Page 41 of You Weren't Meant to Be Human
He turns off theOPENsign, shuts down everything except the emergency light, snatches the hive key from the register, and steps into the manager’s office without a sound. Stagger follows grumbling, the dog he is. The hive is buzzing. A single fly darts across the padlock. He fumbles the key once. Twice.
He can hear the hive already.
Blessed child of ours, what brings you to us?
The lock clicks.
How is our little one?
The chain falls and Crane barrels into the hive’s room, its sanctuary, and lunges for the first worm he can see.
Nobody knows a thing about the hive. That’s the truth of it. Nobody knows if they’re aliens or demons or some horrible natural thing that’s crawled up from the earth’s crust a few decades ago. If they came from space or another world or the dirt.
Of course, that’s not to say stories haven’t been passed down through the years. An enforcer from Tennessee came through a year or two ago and said that, according to her hive mother, the worms and flies didn’t always look like worms and flies. They came down from the sky in the shape of something else, a long time ago. It’s only through the decades that they’ve come to be something recognizable. Levi mentioned that, to the north, hives boast giant horseflies instead of flesh flies; once, visiting a hive in South Carolina, he found a swarm of botflies that attempted to nest their eggs in the tender skin betweenhis fingers. The worms themselves are always the same, though. Some bizarre thing Crane hasn’t been able to find on Wikipedia, somewhere between a nightcrawler and a Bobbit worm, wet and slimy and chittering with teeth.
Whatever they are, they mold themselves to their surroundings. Nestle into the gaps. Make themselves a part of the natural world.
And they squirm and panic and shrieklike everything else.
Crane misses the first one he goes for. It squelches back into the hive of hardened calcium. Shit, shit. He stumbles to the floor. Drags himself closer on his hands and knees.
The swarm explodes into a storm of wings and whining.
CHILD.
They did this. This istheir fault.
The next one, he gets. By the tail. He hasn’t touched a worm since his bite three years ago, and it’s warm and wet and slimy, impossible to get a decent hold on. The hive roils and shrieks and snaps its thousand jaws. The worm’s head thrashes. He can see all its teeth.
UNGRATEFUL FUCKING HOMINID, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?
It’s rancid in this room. The worms are in a panic. They understand their people and they can taste the rage boiling over on his tongue, can smell the fear and hatred. The swarm turns the air into a shimmering roar.
He’s going to yank one of these things from its protective shell and hold it tight, head grasped between his fingers like the Crocodile Hunter holding a viper. And then he is going to put every ounce of pressure on that head until it’s about to pop.
AND YOU USELESS REJECT, YOU PILE OF DISGUSTING EXILES. ARE YOU JUST STANDING THERE? DO SOMETHING.
All the hive has to do is admit it was wrong. Let him get rid of the baby and he’ll stop. He’ll agree to anything in return. He’ll rat outHannah. He’ll make sure Jess is the one to carry the baby. If Levi has to be the father, he’ll look the other way. And he knows that twenty-week abortions are illegal everywhere in the fucking country, but he’ll figure it out. He can bring Tammy to the hive, have them tell her it’s okay, they can do whatever they need to do in a chair in her kitchen. No painkillers, no alcohol, no nothing. He’ll take it like a man.
All they have to do is agree, and he won’t—
Crane almost manages it. Almost unravels the creature from its tunnels.
But Stagger comes up behind him. Always Stagger.
A gloved hand slides under his chin. Another presses hard on his collarbones. Together those hands drag him back, fighting him every centimeter until he’s pinned against Stagger’s thigh.
The worm slips through Crane’s fingers.
Crane thrashes. Fucking dog, fucking half corpse, don’ttouch me. The touch hurts. His skin burns. Every movement, every brush of clothing on flesh feels like a grater ripping him up.
“Shh.”
WE GIVE YOU SO MUCH AND THIS IS HOW YOU TREAT US?
Fuck you.Fuck you.He tries to dig his nails in. Tries to bite. Why won’t they listen? They’re supposed to listen. They’re supposed to understand, it’s not supposed tobe like this.
“Stop,”Stagger rasps.
