Rubberwerks 2 - Part 14

"Tatum?" she tried again, though he couldn't possible be in the rubbery sac fixed to the wall. Nothing human could.

It split in a sudden burst of violence, tearing with a horrible wrenching sound. Jenny watched, transfixed, as the black liquid spewed out in every direction, splattering onto the shelves and floor. The figure inside the sac slipped out with a sickening slurp, landing on the ground with a wet thud.

Jenny's phone skittered out of her hand as she recoiled in horror. The figure was human, but it was unrecognizable, its features smooth and anonymous. It rose slowly from the floor, reaching its full height at six feet. There were no angles, only a dark and liquid flow to the thing. And from its pelvis emerged a long and equally rounded phallus, as featureless as the rest of it.

A hole opened where its mouth would be.

"Jenny," it said. It was Tatum's voice. "I don't know how it happened, but I'm different now. I'm free. I want you to join me, Jenny."

It spread its arms, welcoming her into an embrace. Part of her even wanted to, to sink into its rubbery skin. The fact that what had been her lover was now this thing, this parody of a human, punched a hole through her. Her future vanished even as she tried to reconcile what she was seeing with the very idea of reality. What was the thing that had replaced the man she loved?

"Come to me," it said.

She screamed and ran. She wasn't sure if it reached for her or gave chase, she only knew that she had to flee. The panic inside her was an animal thing, making her feet pound against the cement of the storage room, the tile of the storefront, and then she slammed against the front door and out onto the street.

"Help me!" she screamed.

She spun in the street, looking for someone to help. In the corners, in the shadows, figures stirred. They were not her neighbors, not anymore. These were things like what Tatum had become. They were gathering, slipping out of the shadows and onto the streets. Some sort of infection was at work in this domed prison, and she would be next if she could not find some sort of sanctuary.

"Here!" a voice called.

Jenny found the old woman leaning from the open door of the bank. Behind her were a dozen more faces, people she did not know, but had perhaps seen at the store. They all shared the same look of panic and horror. Jenny waited for no further invitation. She ran until she was at the door, being pulled inside by the others. Outside, more of the black, rubbery figures gathered. Under the lamps, their synthetic flesh shone.

Inside, the door closed and a steel gate rattled own on its tracks.

"Well," the old woman said, tugging at the suit top she wore above a smart gray skirt, "the shit has certainly hit the fan."

More would come. The thing that was once a woman called Janice watched as a line of the drones ushered in their loved ones, dazed and sick. These were the ones who were faintly connected to Mind, but were not infected enough for the true change to be affected. Now their partners, husbands, wives, parents, and children ushered them down the step of the coffee shop and into the chill dark. Sharon had yet to emerge. She was still becoming part of the whole.