The Strain

Rain beat down on the windscreen of the car as the wipers squeaked their best to clear it. Edith couldn’t help but feel sleepy in the back seat, with the monotony of the wipers and warm air that blew from the vents keeping her protected from the hideous weather outside. She blinked hard to keep herself awake and looked down at her wrinkly hands interlocked in her lap. She longed to hold Frank’s hand again. The ache in her heart had not subsided over the years since his death.

She picked at the white hospital band around her wrist, spinning it to reveal the details on it. Her eyesight was not what it used to be, but she could just about make out her name and date of birth: Edith Lilly Burrows–16.07.1941. Not long, she thought to herself, not much longer will she have to suffer, alone, without her beloved Frank.

“Here we are, my dear.” the taxi driver announced in a cheery fashion.

“Oh, that was quick,” Edith replied, snapping back into reality. “How much do I owe you, dear?”

“Nothing at all miss, the hospital paid for it.”

“Really? They do that?”

“Yep. Do you want a hand with your bags?” the driver asked, noticing the path and the steps up to Edith’s front door.

“Oh that would be lovely, what a lovely man you are.” she replied.

“It is no problem at all dear.” The driver laughed it off as he got out of the car and opened the boot. Edith clambered out and straightened her coat. She flipped up her collar tight around her neck, regretting the fact she did not have her umbrella. There was plenty of room for it too in the large black leather handbag she was carrying. The driver jogged up her path with her small suitcase and placed it on her doorstep. Edith slowly made her way up the path to the door, taking small careful steps.

“Oh, you are a good man, aren't you. Are you sure I don’t owe you anything?” she peered up at him through the rain.

“I am positive dear. Are you OK from here?” he replied.

“Oh, I’ll be fine, don’t you worry about me, I’ll be just fine.”

“OK, well you take care of yourself dear.” he said as he set off jogging back to his car. Edith gave him a wave before he set off down the road and disappeared into the gloomy weather.

Once inside her house Edith had to carefully step around a pile of letters and junk-mail that had built up while she had been away. She dropped her bags and let out a long breath. It was a mix of emotions for her. She was happy to be back home, away from that awful hospital, but there was a sadness that sat uneasy in her belly whenever she remembered she lived here alone now.

After the brief pause she gathered herself and hung her coat up on the rack behind the door. Letting out a groan, she bent down and picked up all the post that was on the floor. Sifting through them she discarded one after another onto her hallway side cupboard. It was all junk-mail she thought, even if it is important, they can wait another day, surely. Glancing through the doorway into the living room she made note of the time on the big brass clock sitting on the centre of the mantle piece; 7:45 PM.

“Oh dear, is that the time? I’d better get running a bath.” she said out loud as if there was someone else in the room with her. She plodded her way up the stairs with her bags in hand.

An hour or so later she was back downstairs and sat in her living room, in her giant pink armchair, which was pointed directly at the TV. She did not have many visitors anymore and the TV was her main source of conversation, albeit one sided.

The room was dimly lit from a lamp in the corner of the room that seemed to turn everything orange. Edith was all wrapped up in a grey dressing gown, she had her old pink wool lined slippers on. Her grey hair was still damp in places, yet she did not seem to realise. As she sat eating her microwave meal for one on her lap tray the doorbell rang. She huffed at the annoyance of having to get up out of her comfy chair.

“I’m coming, one minute” she said as she shuffled to the front door. Upon opening it, she saw a mother and young son stood on her front steps.

“Hi Edith, sorry about the time, I just noticed your lights were still on so I thought I’d come over.” The woman spoke really fast but Edith managed to understand the gist of it. “Connor has been baking, and so he thought he’d bring you some cake over, you know to cheer you up. Go on then, hand her the tin.” The young boy was so shy that he almost stuck to his mothers side, but he stepped forward, forcing a smile and handed Edith the cake tin.

“Oh my word, well aren't you just the sweetest little boy Connor.” she gleamed as she removed the tin-lid to see a chocolate cake inside. “Well that has made me feel so much better already. I can't thank you enough.”

“It’s honestly nothing at all Edith, we just wanted to make sure you were okay. If you need anything at all just give me a ring, I am only across the road. Come on now Connor, let’s get back inside. Say bye to Edith.” Rather than speak, Connor gave a quick wave and turned around. “Bye Edith, stay safe.” The mum said as she whisked her son away down the path.

“Thank you so much Ruth.” Edith shouted from the door as she watched them make their way across the quiet road in the rain. She closed the door and returned to her armchair after placing the cake tin on the kitchen table first.

“A disturbing story to start with tonight.” said the man on the TV. “Passers-by had to help a child in Birmingham city centre today after she was attacked by a man in the street.” She turned the volume up. “Witnesses say the man lunged at the girl and tried biting her face. He was quickly tackled by members of the general public and is now in police custody. It is thought he may be suffering from mental health issues as he was shouting incoherently and gave no explanation during his arrest. The girl is being treated in hospital, although it is said she escaped with only minor injuries. More to follow as and when we hear it.” The news presenter announced before moving onto the next segment.

“Bleeding Nora. What is this world coming to?” Edith blurted out, with food in her mouth.

…

Quincy sat beside his daughter's hospital bed, holding her hand tightly as she lay motionless. The distress was etched on his face as he drank in the sight of his little girl hooked up to the machines and the tubes going into her nose.

A doctor walked into the room with a clipboard in his hand.

“Mr Mokundo?”

“Yes” he replied as he stood up.

“Dr Patel, nice to meet you” the doctor said as he shook Quincy’s hand.

“Please tell me you have some good news doctor.”

“Well, currently I am afraid we still do not really have any news.” Dr Patel said reluctantly. "We are still running tests but as of yet there is nothing to indicate what is causing the symptoms."

"How can that be? Surely there is something you can do?" Quincy pleaded.

"We're doing everything we can and I'm sure we'll get the results back soon and then we'll know what we're dealing with. Until then we will continue to monitor Stacey and make sure she is comfortable and pain free.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap. I’m just so worried and not had much sleep.”

“It’s fine Mr Mokundo, honestly, I do not take it personally.” He paused. “I did want to ask though, were you there when the incident happened?”

“No,” he sighed, holding back his anguish. “I wish for nothing more than to have been there to stop this. Why?”

“Just trying to get a better understanding of what happened, sir. It’s just not making much sense at the moment. I feel like any extra information, no matter how small, may be the missing piece to the puzzle."

"I'd give anything to help, I really would." Quincy paused. "Have you spoken to the officer who arrested him?"

"Not yet no, I'll see if I can get hold of them."

"Yeah, okay."

Dr Patel left the room and noticed two police officers perusing the options at the vending machine down the hall. He briskly walked over to them and introduced himself.

"Hi chaps, I'm Dr Patel, I'm just wondering if you know anything about Stacey down the hall?"

"Stacey?" One of the officers grunted.

"The little girl who was attacked in the street."

"You're going to have to narrow it down doctor, I've never known a day like today. It's assault after assault on the dispatch radio. We haven't stopped all day. Must be something in the water."

...

Ruth got out of her car on her driveway and unbuckled Connor from his car seat in the back seat. As she helped Connor out of the car she glanced across the road to Edith’s house. Concern slowly started to build in her as she realised the curtains had not been opened, and a letter had been half hanging out of the letter box for a few days.

“What’s wrong mummy?” Connor asked, noticing the look that had developed on his mum’s face.

“Hopefully it’s nothing Connor but I think we should check. Shall we go over and see if Edith is okay?” she replied, lowering herself to his level and wiping his snotty nose with a tissue. Ruth then closed the car door and led Conor across the road by the hand. They climbed the steps together in the cold conditions and Ruth gave a sharp knock on the door. A few more, louder knocks later there was eventually an answer.

Edith stood in her stained nightie, looking dishevelled and very pale. She had large purple bags under her eyes and her skin was slick with sweat. She was breathing really heavily as she stared at them both.

“You do not look well Edith, do you want me to call the doctors?” Ruth asked, looking very concerned. Edith lunged forwards in a flash and grabbed Connor by his jacket. She pulled him into the house and slammed the door before Ruth could even react.

“Edith!” she screamed, banging on the door. “Edith! Open the door!”

Edith pinned Connor down on the floor by his shoulders and lowered her face close to his, dribbling onto his face. He writhed and screamed but he could not get free. Edith began to gag and her mouth slowly opened to the point where her jaw clicked and cracked. The skin at the corner of her lips tore apart. Connor was screaming louder and louder. Ruth was still screaming and banging on the door outside. Edith got to within a few centimetres from his face and hundreds of spaghetti like worms started inching out of her throat. Some were thicker and longer than others. They were all covered in a black slime. They were all frantically moving independently like tentacles, whipping around from side to side. The longest one then hit Connor’s top lip and latched on, then another, then one latched to his bottom lip. They stretched his lips apart and the rest of the mass of worms thundered into his mouth and disappeared down his throat. His screaming stopped. His eyes closed.

Edith fell to the floor on her front, gasping for breath, exhausted.

"Help," she whimpered, "Help."

"Edith? What the hell is going on?" Ruth bellowed through the door.

"Help… I can't…"

"Open the door right now!" The panic still clear in Ruth's voice. She frantically picked up a plant pot and smashed it through the window of the door. Clearing the glass from the ledge she reached through and unlocked the door. She let out a wail as lunged through the door and swept up her son.

"What the fuck did you do Edith!?" The old lady was unable to answer as she struggled for breath on the floor.

Ruth spun and ran out onto the street with Connor pinned tightly to her chest.

"Help!" She screamed into the air. She laid Connor down on the path to get a better look at him as she dug her phone out of her pocket. She dialed 999 and pressed the phone to her ear.

"Come on baby, wake up for mummy." Tears streamed down her face. "Please baby, wake up." There was no answer on the phone. It just rang and rang. It was only then that Ruth realised that the sound of sirens filled the air. She glanced up to see smoke filling the sky on a neighboring street, and twitched her head to the sound of an oncoming screech. It was too late. The car careered off the road and slammed straight into Ruth, pinning her against the wall. Just visible through the bloodstained windscreen was the driver having his neck eaten by his passenger. The passenger snarled and tore at the unconscious man’s flesh as he feasted.

“Hello, what is your emergency?” a tinny voice could be heard from Ruths smashed up phone on the floor.

*Please like, share and tip if you enjoyed this story. Thank you very much. John Moroney.