Caretaker (Part 4-Conclusion)

link to part 3     

Caretaker (Part 4-Conclusion)

“He knows,” Polly said to Ma and Pa Street Bum. “But I have the name of his source. I’ll bring her here tonight.”

To Everett, Polly said gently, “We’ll need to make you one of us. Don’t worry; I’ll always take care of you and Grandmother Dodge. I’ll be your caretaker.”

The big woman in the oversized poncho reached a dirty hand under her leopard skin folds and drew out a wriggling slug-worm. The worm-thing oozed iridescent pools of slime across the woman’s arms as she held it like a newborn baby. It continually coiled and uncoiled much like a giant grub upon first exposure to light.

Everett, his slate-blue eyes wide and slightly vacant, seemed mesmerized by the sight of an actual Sluggard. His mouth opened and closed like a giant fish, but only faint clicking noises issued from his tight throat.

The large woman cooed unfamiliar lyrics to her squirming bundle before setting it tenderly beside a stunned-looking Everett.

As the Sluggard inched toward him, much like a giant oozing maggot, Everett seemed to come back to life momentarily. He scrabbled backwards like a crab until his body hit the unmovable concrete wall. His shrill screams became muffled and died out altogether as the Sluggard wrapped his struggling body into bulging iridescent folds of slime.


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The following week, if anyone in the big city noticed, but unfortunately few ever did, a bent man in threadbare clothing helped an ancient crone hobble down the concrete steps to the subway tunnels below. The man’s face seemed altogether too young to be perched on such a bent and beaten old body. His arresting slate-blue eyes peering warily from rheumy sockets curiously matched those of his companion as the pair shuffled slowly through the crowded subway terminal.

If anyone had paused in their busy, bustling day to listen: they may have heard the old woman whining piteously to her companion. “I’m so hungry, Everett.”

“I know, I know,” her unkempt comrade replied. “The caretaker will be here soon. Then we will eat.”
END

Caretaker was first published in Knightmares Electronic Magazine in 1997.


XLR8R Magazine Presents Convergence: Where Live Meets Electronic

Caretaker (Part 4-Conclusion)

Caretaker (part 1)

Enter this yawning doorway with speculation. Beyond it is another world -- a world of expression and a world of vision. You're intersecting into a realm of darkness and soul, a kingdom of imagination and illusion. You're about to enter my peculiar neighborhood of what scares you.

The following work of dark science fiction will appear here – in its entirety -- in daily installments . . . for the next four days. I hope you enjoy it.

Caretaker (part 1)

“You’re treating the street people like pets,” Everett said as he watched his new girlfriend pack squares of leftover lasagna into a foil lined cardboard box.

“Just because you’re studying psychology, doesn’t mean you need to search for hidden motives behind a simple act of human kindness.” Polly pointed out. “I’m merely taking leftovers to some hungry people. If more of us helped out, perhaps we wouldn’t have street people.”

“Now hold on there,” Everett said helping Polly with her parka.

“I’ve lived in the city my whole life and street people have always been here.

Bag ladies and bums: they like their lifestyle — no taxes, no rules, and no worries.”

“What about food?” Polly asked punching the elevator down button. “Or warm clothing, or shelter? Things that you and I take for granted. Are you telling me that you believe street people actually enjoy this way of life?”

A swirl of snowy air ruffled Polly’s dark curls as she stepped outside the building. Everett zipped his jacket to his chin and stuffed his hands into warm pockets before answering.

“My grandmother used to tell us that street people not only enjoyed being street people, but that they actually chose this type of existence.”

Polly’s black boots slowed on the snowy walk and she turned her solemn brown eyes to Everett. “Why on earth would she think that?”

“Grandma was always afraid of the street people. She used to tell us stories about them. I think, so that we’d be afraid too. Afraid enough to stay away from Sluggards.”

“Sluggards?”

“That’s what Grandma called the street people. She used to tell us that the Sluggards were actually aliens that came here into the cities of the world to observe us — you know — study our lifestyle so that they could infiltrate our planet better when the time came. Isn’t that crazy? Grandma sure could spin a yarn.”

Continued in my next post


The New York Times' Book of New York: Stories of the People, the Streets, and the Life of the City Past and Present

Caretaker (part 1)