Unfortunately, this was only the beginning of a series of unfortunate air conditioning misadventures, that would ultimately leave us stranded without AC while working at home in the middle of a LA heatwave for two weeks as an army of repairmen disassembled, reassembled, repaired, and replaced every conceivable component in the quest to discover the true cause of the bulge. However, my mind kept returning to that first glimpse of the bulge, and I began to wonder what would happen if something far more sinister than a water leak decided to crawl out and into our lives.

If you haven’t had a chance to read the result, you can start here. But be warned, taking a shower may never be the same again.

The Bulge is now available as an ebook on Amazon.com! If you haven’t had a chance to read the latest chapters, or you need something to read on that shiny new Kindle, you can buy it here for 99¢.

Happy reading!

Chapter 10: Julia

“NO!” Julia screamed, pounding on the door. She tried to push it open, but it was blocked on the other side. She ran through the bedroom to the other bathroom door. It was still open at the end of the hallway, and through it she could see what was left of James’ hand, still, unmoving. The insect creatures were all around him, now covering every surface.

She ran towards him as pain exploded across her back. She screamed and fell to her knees. More pain ripped through her as she crawled forward

A wave of bugs flowed out of the bathroom towards her. They crawled on the walls, the doors, the floor. Like a oily maroon wave they covered everything as they came towards her. She screamed and shuffled backwards until she bumped into the refrigerator and realized that she was trapped in their tiny kitchen alcove. Still they came after her and she squeezed her eyes shut and covered her face with her hands as another bolt of pain pulsed from her shoulder. She felt something hot begin to flow from the wound and run down her back.

She heard the bugs surround her, chittering their little language that reverberated across her skull. She waited but they didn’t attack. She opened her eyes. The creatures encircled her, but stopped a foot away. She was the hub of a vast monstrous wheel. She moved and they followed, keeping the circle intact as they flowed across the counter and stove. She reached out and turned on the burner. The creatures nearest the flame caught instantly as if they were covered in gasoline. They exploded into flames, the others scurried in every direction. The bugs seemed to melt, sending up thick black smoke that mixed with a new horrible high pitched wail that sent fresh ripples of pain up her neck and into the center of her brain.

Something scratched her shoulder. She turned her head and she saw it. Her mind pulled taunt; her sanity sanity already stretched thin, close to breaking. She knew why they didn’t kill her. She knew why they waited.

In the polished gloss of the refrigerator, an insect arm poked out from the broken blister on her back. It was larger than the others, longer, somehow savager.

Its their queen, she thought. I don’t know how I know, but it is. It’s coming through just like the others came through the bulge in the ceiling. That’s why they’re not attacking me. They’re waiting for their queen. These are just the scouts. The royal entourage.

The arm raked at her skin as she quickly pulled drawers open until she found what she needed. She squeezed it tight in her fist and stumbled towards the sink. She reached above the counter and pulled down a bottle of Jack Daniels, twisted off the cap and splashed it over the creatures in a wide arc.

“So you don’t like fire, huh?” she screamed. “Well, I can work with that! Cutting doesn’t work, so let’s see how you burn.”

In her other hand she flicked on the small zebra lighter and touched it to one of the monstrous insects. It caught immediately and the flames followed the alcohol trail from one to another as they ran. Soon the entire kitchen was engulfed in flames.

Julia cried out as another of the queen’s arms burst out of her back.

The condo was filling with smoke and the acrid smell of burning plastic. She stumbled forward, pulling herself towards the bathroom.

On the counter she picked up a can of hairspray. She held down the nozzle and sparked the lighter again. A huge burst of flame shot out and covered the mirror and the creatures on the surface. Their discordant cries grew louder. More skin on her shoulder tore, but she ignored it.

She lifted the hair spray and this time aimed it at the original bulge. It had swollen and stretched, now covering almost half the ceiling. As more of the creatures emerged through the tear she she could see bits of something else, somewhere else. She stared up at a blood orange sky filled with nightmares moving through tainted aluminum clouds. This foul world was bleeding into hers, she realized, and she pushed the nozzle, dousing the bulge in flames. First the sides blackened than erupted in fire. Soon the entire bulge was burning and then it was gone, lost in the thick black smoke. The burning bugs spread the flames across the walls and ceiling. Several of the smaller bulges blacked and withered. She coughed barely able to breath but continued pushing the nozzle until it was empty. She had to be sure.

The thing on her back screamed, and even though the sounds was alien, Julia could feel its hatred. In her mind she could hear the queen coming, pulling itself out of her and into this new burning world. She listened to its screams of anger and rage, and Julia grinned.

The hairspray fizzled out and she dropped it to the floor where it clattered and rolled against James’ knee. The flames had transformed their home into Hell. The entire condo would be consumed in a matter of minutes, she thought, and that was good. The fire would kill the creatures and purge them from this world, her world. As the smoke and the heat and the pain and the screams crescendoed, she laid down next to James. She couldn’t see anything now, and that was also good. They were together, in the end, and her last thoughts were of their almost escape, of that other almost life they could have run to. Then the pain and heat was gone and there was only darkness and silence and still she ran to him.

Epilogue

The fireman finished putting the flames out. The Provie sifted through the ashes of the condo and thought how lucky it was that the fire occurred when most of the neighbors were at work and not asleep in bed. Not that it would make a difference. People would still complain about their precious sofas and knickknacks burning to ash and not even realize how lucky they were to be alive.

The fireman stood in the center of the crumbled remnants of the building and looked around. Everything was ashen and burned and covered in soot. The ceiling had fallen inwards, so what was left of the building looked like the aftermath of a war zone. They had only found two bodies so far. The remains were too badly burned to immediately identify, but even he could guess who they were since the unlucky bastards had died where the fire originated.

A damned shame, he thought, staring at the rubble. What a waste in the middle of a wasteland.

He heard voices and looked up. In the distance he could see the Lieutenant arguing with two man dressed in identical black suits. They were standing in front of a matching black van as two others, also identical, loaded in the ruined remains of some burned and melted equipment. Feds, he assumed, or maybe Homeland Security. The place was probably some former high profile meth lab or terrorist cell for all he knew, and they were here to complain that the scene was being contaminated. Well, good luck finding anything in this mess, he thought. Even in the limited time he had been on the job, the Provie knew there was something odd about this fire. Not just the strange burn patterns or the incredible heat that had consumed the place, but something else that made his stomach uneasy and his nerves jittery. If those guys want this place so bad, they can have it. The sooner the better.

He leaned forward and picked up a piece of wood. Part of the ceiling, he supposed, probably near the fire’s origin point judging form the scorch marks. The wood had blistered, leaving a large bulge in the center. It reminded him of the wasp nests he used to find jutting from trees back home as a kid. He stood up, still holding the charred wood, lost in thought. The wind carried music to him from the distance, almost too feint to tell what direction it came from. He listened to the strange discordant melody for a moment, but then the wind changed and it was gone.

“Hey, Provie,” the Lieutenant yelled. “Maybe you want to give us some help us over here so we can all stand around and take break!”

The Provie tossed the wood away and jogged over join the other men. The piece of wood hit the ground and bounced twice before settling into the wet debris. For a moment the world was still, with only the distant voices of the men and the wind and the city in the distance. Then in the stillness, the small burned board began to shake. Small bits of soot and charcoal flaked off the crust and swirled in the air. The surface broke and a single insectile arm poked through the blackened bulge. It emerged from its seared cocoon, timidly felt around for purchase, then began to pull itself free and into a bright new world.

THE END

Chapter 9: Julia

At first there were only subtle movements, almost imaginary, then a quiver and ripple across the surface that was not. Something was moving inside. It pushed and stretched the surface, and Julia thought it looked as if someone was trying to push the end of a sharpened pencil through the thin membrane of dried paint. Scurrying sounds surrounded them, echoing around the room.

“You see that, right?” Julia asked.

James nodded.

“Maybe we should leave.”

“Yeah. Definitely.”

But neither moved. They stared transfixed at the shape that was no longer just a bulge but a rippling fabric separating them from the undulating shapes beneath. It continued to move for a few seconds, then stopped and remained still. Julia and James looked at one another, then back at the ceiling.

For a moment nothing moved. Then, from the tear at the bottom, a single, segmented leg poked out. It was black, covered in thorny barbed hairs, and narrowed to a savage hooked point. Slowly the leg probed the outside of the ceiling, tentatively at first, then more confidently. More of the legs appeared, each grasping an edge as it pulled the rest of its body out. It was an iridescent, oily dark maroon that shimmered in the fluorescent light. Milky yellowish eyes covered half of it’s body, and a serrated mouth surrounded by a nest of quivering mandibles covered the other. It was four inches long with a bulbous back like a beetle. It paused, stretching each of its ten legs, flexing its mandibles and tasting the air.

“What the hell is that?” Julia whispered.

“Let’s go,” he said. “No sudden movements, okay?”

Julia nodded, but as soon as then began to move, the creature turned its body so that all its eyes could see them. Julia had her hand over her mouth, unsure if she was going to scream or vomit. The thing’s body jerked and scurried along the ceiling then down the mirror to their right. Julia screamed, James pulled her back, leaned forward and grabbed the knife from the counter just as the creature landed where his hand had been a fraction before. He swung the knife forward and managed to hit the thing dead center. There was a sharp crack as the shell broke. The thing’s legs quivered and jerked, leaving gouges in the countertop, then laid still.

“What the hell was that?” James yelled.

“Is it dead?”

“I think so.” He prodded it with the edge of the knife. “I don’t like killing things, but Jesus, did you see the way it came running at us? I’ve never seen anything like this. Look at its feet, their like tiny pincers. You still want to stay here?”

“No way.”

“We should call someone, right. What if there’s more?”

“We’ll do it after we leave. We can–”

The thing on the counter spasmed. Before James could hit it again, the crack in its back widened and out crawled two more of the insect-like creatures. Their pincered feet made identical clicking sound as they stepped onto the counter.

James slashed at them, cutting one in half, then missing the second as it dodged, finally slicing off one of its legs and impaling it on the counter. Immediately, the two corpses began to quiver as more twins emerged. The severed leg also shook, swelling like a thin balloon as another creature climbed out of it. It was followed by another. And another. Reflected in the mirror, Julia saw more emerging from the bulge.

“Oh God,” James moaned, “Oh God, oh God, oh–”

“Come on!” Julia screamed, pulling at him, eyes fixed on the mass of insects scurrying towards them. “James! Run!”

He turned to run, to follow her, to get away from whatever those things were. He turned towards her and despite the horror and repulsion, she knew they would get away. Whatever those creatures were, James and her would escape. They would cut through the bedroom, down the hallway and straight to the front door, never stopping to look back. Once out they would call the police or the FBI or the FDA, whoever you called when impossible things began to crawl out of your walls. The government would contain it. Just overgrown termites, mam, nothing we haven’t seen before, but you’re damn lucky to get out when you did. Those things were mighty hungry, I reckon. They would nod, yep, lucky indeed, then go on to have kids, retire, grow old, and this would only be a story they told their kids and grandkids. She saw it all as she pulled James towards the doorway. Just a scary story, that’s all. Down the hall, twist the knob, out the door to that future waiting on the doorstep.

It was already theirs, she saw it all just as saw one of the bug creatures blur across the counter and land on James’ shoulder. She heard him scream as he tried to knock it off, his hand let go of hers as he swiped at the bug. She saw another jump at him, and before Julia could move dozens of the creatures were falling on him from the ceiling, the walls, swarming up from the floor. James screamed as their tiny mouths tore into his skin, the barbed pincers on their many feet dug into his arms, neck, face, making it impossible to tear them off. She heard her own scream mix with his as the things crawled over his ears, as one of the monstrosities crawled over his eyes he jerked them shut as pincers dig into his eyelids, and he was still screaming as one of the bugs pushed past his lips and tore into his tongue. She started forward to save him, she had to save him, it was James, her James, her everything, and things like this didn’t happen, so she would save him, she knew she would as she saw his arm lash out, pushing her backwards, and slamming the door shut between them.

Then she only heard his muffled screams.

Chapter 8: James

When James opened the door to the condo, three things happened.

He smelled the sudden rush of air, thick and redolent of rotten strawberries and mold. It overwhelmed him, like passing through an invisible barrier.

He saw Julia. She was sitting at her desk, still hands resting on the keyboard, head slowly swaying side to side.

And he heard the music. He recognized it at once. It was still distant, but somehow more present than before.

“Julia?”

She turned towards his voice.

“Hey,” she said groggily, eyes half open.

“You OK?”

“Of course.”

She did not look OK. She looked sick. She had bags under her eyes that he did not remember from earlier.

“What have you been doing?”

“Working.”

He glanced at the laptop screen, but beneath the title, An Interview with Mr. Mister, the document was blank.

“Working on what?”

She didn’t answer.

“Julia!”

She jerked, blinked, and her eyes seemed to regain focus.

“James? Did I fall asleep?”

He led her to the sofa.

“What is that horrible music?” she asked

“Dunno. I heard it last night, when the…” he trailed off.

“When the what?”

“Nothing. I just heard it last night.”

“James?”

“What?”

“James.”
“I might have heard something else.”

“Like?”

“Scratching.”

“What kind of scratching?”

“Mice?”

“You mean rats!”

“I didn’t say rats.”

“Oh my God, we are so leaving if there are rats here! I mean that disgusting thing on the ceiling is one thing, but rats!” Then remembering, she added, “It started leaking again.”

James walked to the bathroom, but stopped at the entrance.

It’s only been one day. One day! How is this possible?

The tub was completely discolored. A thin film of oil covered the bottom, clogging the drain. His eyes moved upwards and widened. The bulge had grown several times larger, and worse, dozens of smaller bulges had appeared across the ceiling and at the tops of each wall with tentacles running down towards the floor. It gave the room a distorted, warped feeling.

James’ eyes moved to the sink and stopped on the Ricardo’s card still laying next to the dirty Tenchu knife. He snatched it up, taking his cell phone from his pocket as he hurried back into the front room.

A woman’s voice answered: “Hello. A to Z Air Conditioning. And. Maintenance.”

“Hi, I’m calling for Ricardo.”

“Oh. Are you family?”

“Um, no. He came out and looked at my AC unit. Said to call if it started leaking again.”

“Ok sir, we’ll send someone out,” she said, sniffling.

“Is it Ricardo? Because he’s already looked at it once.”

“No sir, we’ll have to send someone else out.”

“Why?”

A longer pause, this time peppered with more of the sniffling sounds, but muffled as if the woman had covered the phone with her hand.

“Are you alright?” James asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“You sure?”

“Yes sir. I’m sorry, but…Ricardo passed away last night.”

“Oh my God,” James looked at the closed bathroom door. “What happened, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“They think he was,” her voice wavered slightly and James was sure she was crying. He could almost hear her tears splashing against the small holes on the phone’s receiver. “He was bitten by a black widow or something, something poisonous and he had a reaction and he just…”

“God.”

“There’s a funeral later today.”

James didn’t know how to respond. What did they always say on TV?

“I’m sorry for you loss.”

“Thank you, sir. We’ll send someone out tomorrow. We’re um, no one’s going out on calls today.”

“Of course. Thanks for telling me.”

He hung up, still staring at the door, but seeing that single prick of blood on Ricardo’s finger.

Just a sheeting nail. 

Or something.

He turned to Julia and said, “Let me see your shoulder.”

“Why?”

“Let me see it, Julia.”

She hesitated, then pulled off her sweater.

James gasped, “Oh my God! What the hell, Julia!”

The small red mark had grown into a blackish maroon growth at least eight inches across. It reached from the top of her shoulder down across her back. James hesitated, then touched it gently. It felt hot and the skin had a hard plastic feel to it.
“It’s OK,” Julia said. “I think it’s getting better.”

“It is not OK.”

“But–”

“We’re going to the hospital. Now.”

He grabbed her arm, ready to carry her out if she resisted, when he saw Julia’s mouth drop open. She pointed. In slow motion, James’ eyes moved down her arm to her finger and followed its aim across the short space to the bulge.

It was moving.

Chapter 7: Julia

The next day, Julia sat at her desk editing the Mr. Mister article–it was almost done, only needing one last polish before sending it off–when from the other room came the thud of water pounding against linoleum.

She opened the door to the bathroom and watched as a stream of fluorescent blue liquid poured from the bulge down into the tub, splattering against the sides, the walls, the newly discolored shower curtain. Julia was shocked. There was enough water flowing out to leave at least three or four inches in the tub as it drained. It continued to pour for an hour, then stopped as abruptly as it began.

Julia tried not to think about it, just as she tried not to scratch at the hard, red blister on her shoulder. That was different, though. That was nothing to worry about.

Then why are you hiding it from James? a voice in her head asked. It sounded disturbingly like Mr. Mister’s.

I’m not hiding anything, she thought.

So you just happen to be wearing a sweater when there’s a heat wave outside.

I’m cold from the air conditioning. That’s all. She could almost hear Mr. Mister’s high pitched, ringing laugh. Besides, he would overreact as usual. Force me to go to the clinic or the emergency room. All over a stupid, little blister.

Oh honey, it ain’t that little and you know it. This was true, the blister had grown larger, but she pushed that from her mind.

She looked past her laptop, out the window above her desk. At this time of day the street was deserted except for a single black van parked across the street with the word UZUMAKI stenciled on the side.

A melanoma, she thought suddenly. A melanoma ruining the perfect emptiness of the street. A tumor on the skin of existence. No, she couldn’t go to the hospital.

“It’s only a blister,” she said, and blisters happened to everyone. Like that one time when she baked cookies and her hand brushed against the hot tray, didn’t she still have a tiny scar?

That thing on your back’s not from baking cookies, Mr. Mister replied. And it’s going to leave more than a scar this time. 

No, that blister went away and so will this one. It’s better to wait. 

She could hear the flood of water began to flow again, but this time she didn’t bother to check on it. It seemed so distant and unimportant. Besides, with the constant hum of the AC and the music the neighbor was playing, she could barely hear anything else. She began to hum along as she opened the article and resumed editing.

Yes, everything will be alright. I have to stay here. I have to wait.

Mr. Mister’s voice was silent.