The Rot Festers

Something’s wrong.

Aero isn’t coughing, but breathing feels funny. The outlines of the shelf in front of him are fuzzy, like a badly focused photo. Inhale. Exhale. Deep breath that isn’t deep enough.

But there’s so much more to see. He hasn’t even gotten to the back yet. So he continues through the store, ignoring the blur getting worse. Ignoring the grating sounds he makes when he breathes.

His footsteps seem to drag, and he knows he’s running out of time. The photos he takes get clumsily shoved into his pocket. If they’re damaged it’ll be his fault. Time speeds up and slows down over and over, alternating with every movement.

He hasn’t seen anyone else in the store yet, but he hasn’t been to everywhere in the store. Maybe they’re locked in the walk in like Sir Loin was, or hiding in a battle-ready corner like Reese.

The back smells so much worse. Slowly it turns his vision purple as he stumbles through a rotting mess of boxes, leaning on a shelf to keep himself upright. But even that doesn’t work.

His legs give out completely and he slides to the floor, trying desperately to get enough air in his lungs. Pain shoots through his stomach and he thinks he’s shaking, with how blurred everything is. The floor should be cold but in here it’s warm, festering with rot in every way.

“You don’t work here,” a voice says.

He didn’t even hear the footsteps coming. He can’t turn to face them, can’t move his body at all. He feels static around the edges, like he’s starting to disappear.

“Hmm.” Something pokes his stomach and the pain is amplified a hundred times, but he can’t make a sound. Can’t catch his breath at all.

“Don’t worry. It’ll be over soon.”

“Anh?”

The first time she hears the voice, she’s sure it’s all a dream.

A voice she hasn’t heard in months. A voice she’d almost given up on hearing again. A voice everyone had told her was gone for good.

“Anh?”

A voice she knows so well.

But when she opens the door, everything is wrong. That can’t be Sara. The thing in the hallway has Sara’s tired eyes and Sara’s practiced voice, but that can’t be Sara.

It has Sara’s eyes and Sara’s voice, but its mouth is stained with mold. It carries the smell of a corpse. A pair of sickly green antennae stick out from its forehead, parting its hair. Dead sea creatures stick to it - an octopus in its hair, one on its shoulder with a tentacle around its neck, a large squid stuck to its sweater. Sara’s sweater. Its sleeves drip with dirty water. It has no hands. Sticking out of one sleeve is a bone, from the other are tentacles. A slimy, moldy lobster tail hides behind its legs. Two more octopi are attached to its ankles. It opens its mouth and speaks in her voice again.

“Anh..”

“Who are you?”

Anh can’t take her eyes off of it. She has the doorknob in a death grip. That can’t be Sara. That can’t be Sara. Sara is somewhere hidden, too far gone, in a better place.

“.. It’s me,” the creature says.

“You can’t be Sara,” Anh whispers, her other hand gripping the hem of her shirt. “I’m asleep. I must be.. This is just a nightmare.”

“I’m Sara,” the creature replies, voice strained. Like it’s begging. Pleading with Anh to say that it’s her sister.

Anh bites her lip so the creature won’t see it trembling. She holds the doorknob even tighter, forcing herself to look into its eyes. Sara’s eyes. It looks so terribly similar. And those eyes are staring back at her, refusing to give up.

A terrible ache settles in her chest. Like someone removed her lungs. It reaches tendrils into her stomach, twisting her organs around until she has to gasp for her next breath.

It’s Sara.

“What happened to you?” she asks, her voice threatening to break. She tries to cover it up with a cough.

Sara’s voice is so quiet it’s barely there at all.

“I think.. i think i died.”

Anh feels the ache crack her heart into pieces. Any more and she will shatter.

“But you’re here. How can you..”

“I don’t know.”

The octopus on Sara’s shoulder moves, one tentacle squeezing her neck.

“I don’t think I ever left the store,” she says, looking at the floor.

And it’s like that whole day is happening again. The last words Anh ever said to Sara echo through her mind. You’ve been so tired. I have tomorrow off. Let’s do something to relax.

When she came home from her shift the next morning, Sara’s shoes weren’t by the door. Her keys weren’t in the tray. Anh had checked her room, and she wasn’t home.

She drove by the store, and the parking lot was empty. Signs on the door said the place was closed. The building was condemned.

Sara wouldn’t answer her texts or calls. She didn’t come home that day, or the next, or the next after that. She didn’t turn up as a corpse in the news or a photo asking for ransom. She just disappeared.

And Anh ran out of places to look for her.

“Sara-“

Anh lets go of the door, lets go of her shirt, and nearly throws herself at Sara. Pulling her as close as she can, terrified of letting go. The smell of rotten fish doesn’t matter. The feeling of slimy tentacles on her clothes when Sara hugs her back doesn’t bother her at all.

“I’m so sorry,” Anh whispers. “I should’ve looked harder- you were right there-“

And she has to stop, because the words on her tongue will make her choke out her last breath. The pain in her chest will split her open from head to toe.

Sara doesn’t say a word. She’s silent, but Anh can hear her screaming, begging to come home. To stay. Knowing it’s too late. Knowing neither of them can do anything but hold on tighter, tighter, tighter, until they both crumble.

“I was so sure you were still out there.” Anh’s fingers dig into the fabric of Sara’s sweater, ignoring the sludge dripping down her hand.

“I have to go back.” Sara blurts. She lets go. Her voice is so strained, she’ll lose it any second now.

“No you don’t, no- just a little more time, please-“

“I have to.” Sara’s heart is breaking too. She pushes Anh away slowly, leaving a trail of slime down her arm. Her eyes are full of tears.

“You were such a good sister, Anh.”

No. No no no no. Not yet. Not yet, please, please..

Sara disappears, the smell of fish vanishing with her. It’s like she dissolves. Fading into the wallpaper as if she was never there at all.

Anh’s heart shatters.

She collapses to her knees, gasping for breath in between sobs, reaching out as if Sara is still there. She can’t breathe. The pain in her chest spreads, cutting her insides to ribbons, stabbing her in the gut a thousand times over.

Tearing a hole inside her that will never be filled.

Sara’s voice still echoes down the hall. Her things are still in her room. Everything is exactly how she left it. Nothing will ever change.

No injury or sickness could ever hurt this much.

Anh screams into her hand, the other one scraping at the floorboards, trying to keep herself upright. Sara is dead. Sara is gone. Sara will never come back.

The taste of vomit would never leave his mouth. His arms ached from being unable to move, the rope digging into his wrists. This was the closest he’d ever be to an actual fish - his limbs tied together, flopping around on the floor, groaning through the muzzle that kept his mouth shut.

Vex didn’t know why he was here. It wasn’t the store. Didn’t smell enough. Too empty. Too different.

He lay on a carpet the color of old blood. The wood floor underneath creaked every time he moved. Sometimes he heard footsteps, but they never came close to him. They didn’t match anyone he knew.

Often he found himself shivering. It wasn’t cold enough to hurt. Just enough to be uncomfortable. Like everything else he was stuck with. The muzzle. The ropes. The way his limbs ached from being stuck in one position. Tucked behind him. Unable to stretch out.

He wondered how long it had been. Tried to see out the window behind him, but he couldn’t twist his head that far.

The footsteps passed again, echoing through the dark doorway that led out of the room. They were heavier this time. More of them. And then Vex heard a voice.

“She’s here,” it said.

A tall, slender figure came in, dressed in black from head to toe except for a bright pink respirator. They approached Vex and knelt beside him, reaching out to touch his scales.

He growled. Narrowed his eyes at them. Whoever they were, they couldn’t be trusted.

“Poor little fish boy,” the figure said, chuckling. Despite the continued growls, they brushed their fingers over his scales. Checking his hydration levels. Checking the muzzle to make sure it was on tightly. “We can’t have you giving everything away, now can we?”

More footsteps. Ones Vex knew. His insides twisted violently and a terrible feeling of dread took over, freezing him up. Getting worse when he heard her yell.

”VEX!!”

The figure in black stood up quickly. Put their hands up. Tried to show they weren’t a threat.

And there was Sara in the doorway, panting, sludge and rainwater dripping from her clothes. Her eyes went wide as she saw him tied up on the carpet.

No, no, no, this was all wrong.

Sara ran for him, and Vex tried to scream. To tell her to turn back. To leave him. That it was a trap. But all that came out of him was a pathetic mmmph!! before more shadowy figures surrounded her.

One grabbed her and she fought, throwing her weight against them, slapping another in the face with her tentacles. She struggled forward one step at a time, evading their grasp for mere seconds before they reached her again. Grabbed her by the hair, by the arm, by the fabric of her sweater if they could. As if they were teasing her. As if it was up to them how much farther she got.

“Mmmmm!!! Mm!!! Mmmmm!!”

Vex tried even harder to scream, straining against his ropes. He knew it wouldn’t help. He knew he couldn’t get out.

But it gave Sara more strength. She met his eyes and kicked the figure holding her as hard as she could. They cried out. Let go. Her path was clear. And she ran.

Right into the fist of the one in the pink mask.

They hit her in the stomach and before she could even try to catch her breath, another figure had her by the hair. They jerked her backwards and kicked her legs out from under her, knocking her to the floor. Vex’s muffled cries went ignored.

He flopped harder. Maybe he could break through the floor. Maybe he could do something. Maybe it wasn’t all useless. But Pink Mask got to him, too. A boot came down on his back and he groaned.

“Don’t move, Vex,” Pink Mask hissed at him. “You want your last goodbye to be a happy one, don’t you?”

“Mmmmmm!!!! Mmmmmm!!! Mmmmmmmphh!!!!”

He stared into Sara’s eyes. One of the figures was holding her head up. Forcing her to look at him. Their entire body weight on top of her, pinning her down, making her fight to breathe.

“I’ll get you out of here,” she wheezed. Smiled at him. “We’ll be safe before you know it, Vex. I promise.”

“Mmm…”

“I promise,” she repeated. Dragging her arm along the floor, she reached for him, one tentacle poking at the muzzle.

And then another figure’s boot came down on her wrist. She yelled. The hand in her hair slammed her head into the ground, over and over, until blood spilled from her nose and her lip and she finally passed out. All Vex could do was scream into the muzzle uselessly, restrained by the ropes and Pink Mask holding him down. He couldn’t help her. She couldn’t save him.

They dragged her limp body away. Vex screamed until the muzzle felt like it was choking him.