The Atomic Wombat Writes

I suppose it would be scary if you came home and found something with way too many teeth and eyes and claws as big as your head lunging for you. Most of the damn things move faster than our eyes can pick up. At least until you've trained your eyes. Most people never really got the chance.

The true horrors were the fairies. Those little cutsy things that people used to collect BV with dragonfly or butterfly wings and sitting on mushrooms. It makes me laugh when comparing it to reality. Fairies were small as toddlers. They could speak, they remembered the names of their family and friends. They would look up at you with big eyes and a child's face and giggle while they ate you alive.

In all the years since, I've never actually seen one feed. It's hard to imagine how they can punch holes in their victims with their mouthparts. High blood pressure I suppose. That's the best I could figure following autopsy. I liken it to an actual butterfly's mouthparts. The proboscis unrolls like a party favor and is held stiff by pumping blood into that section of their bodies. I just didn't know that blood pressure trumps kevlar. Lost a good friend of mine that way. Marty did always have way too much faith in anteviral technology.

“I hear that purple and blotchy is the new black.” That was the snarky comment that brought me out of my reverie. Andrew must be channeling his inner gay man again. Commenting on my appearances after a job was his absolute favorite thing to do. Good thing he’s useful or I would have probably maimed him by now.

My clever comeback consisted of “shut up” and I looked up to see that we had arrived at the little run-down shack that was where we had our version of the nerd cave. He pulled the string that unlatched the door. We sat our stuff down and he put the plank across the door frame. Since we were home for the night, he pulled in the string - nothing but the finest of 1700s peasant home security technology for us.

I was so tired by this point that my eyes felt gummy and so did my knees, although that was more on the inner consistency scale than a surface feel. I stumbled back to our shower and opened the bung on the bottom of the barrel. The cold water stung all of the surface burns and I knew that our homemade lye soap was out of the question. So I did the best I could with wash cloths and water. Of course all that water washed away my bee sting remedy and the burning pain began all over again with the happy fun addition of blisters… yay.

Miserable, I clambered out of the back room. I was in such pain I couldn’t even bear to put on clothes. The blisters just kept swelling with fluid and I was not looking forward to lying down. I dreaded the pressure but longed for the feeling of being horizontal. My back got the least amount of contact with Neckert whatever it was. At this point I was too peevish to call it blood. But my belly was horribly blotchy and the biggest blister on it was longer than my thumb and about as thick. The wound from the binding ritual was really ugly looking and I didn’t know what to do. I lay on my back with a groan, closed my eyes and just hoped that the room would stop turning Technicolor.

I felt a curiously cool touch on my stomach. It was feather light and almost made me feel as if I were floating off the bed. I tried to open my eyes but found that I couldn’t. The lids were glued shut. When I tried to raise my arms, the swelling in the shoulders prevented it. A curious movement told me that I could still use my best weapon, my mouth.

“You’d better be Andrew or I’m totally flashing a stranger.” I said. Points for me that I didn’t let the fatigue show in my voice or express the good feelings that the continuing touches were creating.

It was his turn for witty repartee. “Shut up and sit still.”

The coolness seemed to spread outward from what I assumed were his fingertips. I was feeling so out of it that I couldn’t tell if that light pressure was coming from 10 individual spots or from something else entirely. I felt that itchy burning sensation slowly decrease to a tolerable level. The cool touches seemed to travel underneath my skin, not over it. I could almost see the blisters shrinking before the light breeze of his touch. Well, I could if I could actually open my eyes.

It was just as I thought that, that I felt a cool weight on my forehead and eyelids. Yet, I was still feeling the touches on my belly and upper thighs. How was this possible? I started to sit up and was pushed back down by a sarcastic snort.

“You do that, and you’ll undo all of the effort I’ve put into you. Then I’ll truly be pissed.” he said.

“Okay fine, then tell me, oh great god of the northern reaches, how are you touching my belly and head at the same time.” I replied.

“Relax, it’s just a cool cloth on your forehead. I’m only touching your lower abdominal quadrants and quadriceps areas.” He replied.

Andrew always had to be so annoyingly technical. It made for a useful skill when researching how best to kill things, but it was awful for normal conversation.

I answered him, with a sigh. “Well, whatever you’re doing, don’t stop.” And promptly fell asleep.