Nasty Little F___ers-Kindle
Read Nasty Little F___ers-Kindle Online
Authors: David McAfee
NASTY LITTLE F!#*ERS
(Previously released as GRUBS)
By
David McAfee
Kindle Edition
Cover Design by David McAfee
Cover image from stock.xchng
This is a work of fiction. The events depicted in this story are entirely products of the author’s imagination and should not be construed as fact.
Kindle Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your direct use only, please return to Amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Visit David McAfee on the web at mcafeeland.wordpress.com
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For Hennah
TABLE OF CONTENTS
BONUS MATERIAL
Excerpt from TORMENT, by Jeremy Bishop
Excerpt from 33 A.D., by David McAfee
NASTY LITTLE F!#*ERS
Prologue
The cold woke Eddie Bayer up from a deep sleep. He shivered and reached behind him to zip up the sleeping bag, then realized he was alone. No wonder he was cold. Becky usually snuggled up to him on these camping trips, and together the two of them could stay nice and toasty. But not tonight. Tonight Becky was out for some reason. Probably just went to the bathroom again. That woman lived on the pot most days.
“Becky,” he called, his voice muffled a bit by the sleeping bag over his head. After a minute or so with no reply, he sat up. The bag fell from his shoulders and gathered in a thick bunch at his waist. The first thing he noticed was the chill. Even in late Spring, the woods of northern Maine could get pretty damn cold. The days were fine, but the nights could freeze your nuts off. He took his flannel jacket out of his pack and shoved his arms through the sleeves, then he grabbed his wool-lined boots and put them on. He’d been sleeping in his flannel pajama pants and a T-shirt, so he should be all right to step outside the tent for a few minutes to find Becky. He grabbed his battery-powered Coleman lantern, pulled his toboggan on his head, and moved toward the front of the three-chambered tent.
When he got to the tent flap he found it unzipped. That wasn’t like Becky, she knew better than to leave the tent open to small animals and other insects. It just wasn’t a smart thing to do when camping out in the woods. Their body heat could attract any number of snakes or lizards looking for warmth; even small mammals like mice or chipmunks would be drawn to it. To say nothing of bigger mammals that might be attracted to the smell of their food. What the hell was she thinking?
“Becky?” he called again. He stepped out of the tent and his boot squelched into the hard packed dirt of the clearing. That wasn’t normal, either. He examined the bottom of his shoe and found a group of flattened grubs stuck to it. Fat little bastards, about two inches long and off-white in color except for the ends, which were scarlet. They looked a bit like mealworms, but bigger. He picked up a twig from the ground and scraped the tiny corpses off his boot. In doing so he noted several more of the little critters squirming around the tent. Where’d they come from? Weird. No big deal, they couldn’t get to his food. Besides, he had bigger things to worry about, like his missing wife.
“Becky? Come on, now, where are you?” Still no answer. He stepped into the clearing, away from the tent, and flashed the lantern around the campsite. No sign of Becky, but the area around the tent was crawling with more grubs. Thousands of the little buggers! Squirming, writhing and loping along the earthen floor of the clearing like a disgusting larval sea.
“Gross,” Eddie said, stepping around a large concentration of the things. They were devouring a small animal, perhaps a squirrel. There’d be a neat little skeleton there in the morning, by the looks of it. He’d have to remember to grab it and take it home to his son, Ricky. The boy could use it for Science class or something. Then something shiny amidst the pile of grubs caught the lamplight and threw it back at him. He bent down for a closer look.
It wasn’t a squirrel.
Becky’s diamond engagement ring winked at him in the light of the Coleman. It took a moment for that to sink in, and when it did the realization pulled Eddie from his feet and left him kneeling in the dirt next to the writhing mound of grubs. The bastards weren’t eating a small mammal; they were eating his wife’s left hand!
“What the…?” He reached down and picked up the hand, then brought it up to get a closer look at it. Too many grubs squirmed along its surface for him to see, so he gave the hand a little shake. Several grubs fell off, but he also managed to splatter himself with some of his wife’s blood that was still left in the hand. He reached up and wiped the blood off his face, leaving a pale red smear on his cheek.
Still warm.
Then he felt a sharp pain in his ankle. He looked down to see one of the grubs burrowing its jaws into his flesh. Eddie winced and grasped it between his thumb and forefinger, then yanked it out. He choked back a yelp as the little fucker took a BB-sized piece of his flesh with it when it came free.
He held the grub up to the light, watching it squirm between his fingers as it swallowed its prize.
Mother fucker!
Eddie squeezed until the grub popped, and a greenish ooze ran down his fingers. That’d teach the thing. He looked down at the wound on his leg. A small hole, with a line of blood pouring from it. Not too big, though. The adhesive bandages in the first aid kit should suffice to cover it up. Damn thing stung like hell, though. As he stood to fetch the kit, an odd warmth began to spread through the area around the bite. His first thought was poison, but then the pain faded a bit. A natural anesthetic, then, like the kind leeches and ticks used so they could eat in peace.
Fuck that! He shot to his feet and stomped on the nearest pile of grubs, smiling as he heard their tiny bodies squish under his boot. “Where the hell is Becky?” He shouted. “Where is she?” But of course the grubs didn’t answer.
He felt another sting. And another, as a third, fourth, and fifth grub latched into the skin of his arm. He swatted them off and then flicked away the two or three that were starting to burrow into his leg. Each bite was like a small prick of fire burning into his skin, followed by that strange warmth. Then one lit upon his face and promptly started to chew its way into his cheek.
He screamed and staggered backward, squashing more grubs under his boot. He looked down at the ground and almost wet himself. There were millions of the little grubs.
Millions!
All around him. And the smell! Like rotting fruit mixed with the scent of blood. His blood. Becky’s blood.
“Get off me, you little fucker!” He reached up to his cheek and pulled the grub from his face, tearing a piece of his cheek out along with the grub.
He turned, doing his best to ignore the bites on his arms and legs, which had become too numerous to count and instead merged into one long, painful sensation. He ran through the squirming sea of larvae, headed for the creek nearby. Hopefully he could drown the bastards.
That’s when he saw Becky. She stood on the path that led to the creek, her pale, waxen skin writhing and pulsing as hundreds of the little grubs feasted on her flesh. Blood covered her whole body. It poured from the many tiny bites as well as a few large sections of her throat where the flesh hung in ragged chunks. Her eyes, glazed and unfocused, seemed to stare at nothing, and he winced as a grub on her right cheek squirmed over to her eye and buried its jaws into her iris. Becky didn’t seem to notice. She held the stump of her left arm out to him, and half a dozen grubs fell from her forearm to land in the leaves with a sticky smack.
“Ish all ‘ight, Eddie,” she said, her voice sounding like mush because of the grubs chewing on her tongue. “Zhey won’ ‘urt you.” She reached for him with her other hand, and he watched, momentarily paralyzed as his wife’s grub-covered fingers wrapped around his own. Several of the grubs left Becky’s hand and moved to his, immediately burrowing their faces into the flesh of his fingers.
Now Eddie did scream. He shook his hand to get rid of the feasting larvae, then shoved his wife to the ground and sprinted down the path, still headed for the creek.
Halfway there, he stumbled and hit his knees. The tiny bites continued, but they didn’t hurt as much. He looked around and saw hoards of the grubs crawling toward him, around him, even on him. They squirmed between his fingers and writhed in his boots. They’d somehow gotten under his socks and started chewing on the webbed flesh between his toes. Lord help him, there were even some in his boxers, eating away at his privates like some sick, adolescent nightmare. Tears streamed from his eyes as he crawled toward the creek, still hoping to drown the fuckers.
The grubs continued to bite and chew at him, but the pain was somehow muted and distant, like it was happening to someone else. He realized he was crawling, and wondered why. Then he remembered the creek. Thirsty. That’s it. He needed something to drink. He looked at a grub that had burrowed its toothy little head into the back of his hand and halfheartedly swatted it away.
“Later,” he said. “Water first. Thirsty.”
He scooted forward a few more feet and made it to the edge of the creek bed before his strength gave out and he lay down in the mud. He was so tired. Just a little nap. Then he’d get his drink. He closed his eyes, and when he felt tiny bites on his eyelids and inside his mouth, he didn’t bother shooing them away.