Chemical Warfare

“I’m done,” Klug said, head down. A sweet chemical smell filled the air. The poisonous dust powdered his feet, and I could see them cracking as it dried him out. Soon he’d be no more than a shell, one more casualty.

“No, no,” I lied, “You’re fine. Let’s just see if we can make it to the food and then you can…”

“Don’t treat me like I’m an idiot!” he yelled, his voice thick and choked. “I’m done!” His eyes rolled spastically in his head. “It hurts, man. It hurts….” He started to convulse, his abdomen twitching, white foam at the corners of his mouth.

“Get back!” I yelled. “Klug’s got a dose!” I watched his brown skin craze and burst, the blood he’d only recently sucked oozing from the fissures.

After he was gone I stood over his body awhile, but I knew I’d have to keep marching soon, to the feeding grounds that loomed over what would be Klug’s final resting place. I could see, already, a few of us climbing the sheets and burrowing into the edges of the mattress, making our way to the sleeping form that was both enemy and food.

This was far from over, and the night had only begun.