Jonas and the Werefish

Jonas stood at the stove and lowered a two-pronged fork to the pan on the fire. It spit and hissed and popped in the grease. It smelled and tasted good. It wasn’t flesh exactly but it wasn’t meat. It didn’t exactly taste like vegetable matter- maybe mushrooms large enough to carve into steaks. It would be good with catsup. He had to pull it off the fire and sit down and eat. His leg was killing him… although… the pain seemed to have subsided… somewhat... maybe not- he wasn’t sure anymore.

“Jackfruit,” Jonas said to himself. “I’ve heard it tastes a lot like meat.” But he didn’t know what she’d been, fruit or vegetable.

She’d not had entrails like a human does anyway; no stomach or heart or liver or kidneys… or bones. She hadn’t seemed to have any kind of skeletal system. Jonas speculated that there must be some kind of anatomy, histology, or something… whatever plants have that makes them function. He had not looked inside her head. He’d felt that would be just a little too ghoulish; after all, she did have a face, that he’d left on her head which he’d thrown over his wall... for the wild dogs.

He took another shot of whiskey from one of the bottles he had brought home from his ill-fated excursion into town earlier.

He had just been so hungry and so… pissed off.

He sat on the couch with his foot and ankle propped up on the coffee table directly in front of him.

The jeans were still slit open below the knee to accommodate the girth of his surrealistically swollen calf. Though it was hideous to look upon, for whatever reason, it did not seem to hurt so much. There were odd little nodules- bumps on it here and there, however, that he had not noticed until now. On the couch next to him was a yardstick that he used to scratch his back when he had itchy spots he couldn’t reach. He picked it up and scraped it across the top of one of the nodules- nothing happened. Then, for whatever reason, he tapped the bump on his calf again- it popped open. There was an issue of pus and then… it looked like a worm poked its head out. But then… maybe… it looked more like a little baby snake than a worm.

What the fuck is going on?!

Jonas had been through the apocalypse or something akin and appeared to be the only human survivor. There were hideously ugly creatures trying to scale and climb over the wall that kept him safe inside his fortress of solitude; there was a flying saucer and men in black who wore pork pie hats and had lemur tails; there were female-type creatures growing from pods lowered into the ground by the flying saucers; and now baby snakes were popping out of pustules on his gangrenous lower leg that looked like something out of a horror movie.

Is this really happening? Can it possibly get any weirder?!

Barking and howling and fighting erupted suddenly outside the walls of his sanctuary.

He rose from the couch and grabbed his firearms and ammunition and ran (as fast as his baby snake-filled leg would allow him) to the ladder and once again climbed to the top of it so he could look down from his greatest vantage point.

A pack of the wild dogs Jonas had seen several times at the tree line was at the gate of his compound and they had another dog cornered that did not seem to be feral and vicious like them. It was apparent that the pack intended to attack, and most likely, kill and eat the dog that they had cornered. The lone dog was making a valiant effort to save herself (Jonas would decide her gender later) but it was obvious by her occasional whimpering that she knew she was in trouble.

Jonas could relate. He quickly aimed Big Medicine and shot the shit out of the feral beast that was closest to the cornered dog. And instead of running at the crack of the gunfire, the other hounds froze in place- until he blew a second one to Hell, and then they bolted.

Perhaps the dog that was being attacked by the pack had been exposed to gunfire by a human being she had belonged to or perhaps she just knew instinctively that she was better off huddling up against the gate than running, but she held her ground.

Jonas quickly (as quickly as he could) climbed down from the ladder and tripped the switch that opened the gate to let the dog into the compound. She was kind of a pretty dog. She looked like a small black wolf; maybe a wolf-dog hybrid. There were flecks of brown and grey in her face and ears. She did not enter the compound immediately, but stood and looked at Jonas as if to study him- which is the behavior of a wolf more than a dog.

“Come on…” Jonas said.

She continued to stand and stare at him.“I can’t keep the gate open…” he said, knowing that the dog probably didn’t understand his words but most likely understood his expression and gesture. “I’m gonna close it.”

Jonas tripped the switch again and the gate began to roll shut as the female wolf-dog or whatever… watched. Then at the last minute, before the gate was finally shut, she leaped through.

Jonas turned away from the gate and the dog and hobbled back to the trailer. The stray followed him. As she had done at the gate, she hesitated again at the door, which Jonas left open for her to enter... or not. She stood on the porch at first and stuck her head through and sniffed cautiously and looked around. She did seem afraid as much as she did wary. Finally, she entered.

Jonas did not attempt to touch the animal: if she was a wolf after all it was likely that she would bite, even if she was a hybrid which seemed more and more likely to Jonas as he studied her. Wolves do not immediately consider humans to be superior beings as dogs do. Wolf-dog hybrids often have a combination of the characters, subservient to humans- and not. She stood with the coffee table between her and Jonas and studied him.

He saw her sniff a few times, to catch a scent, although she seemed to sort of do it on the sly, like she didn’t want to be observed. Jonas figured that she could smell the infection in his lower leg; and that either- she felt it impolite to let him know that she could smell it- or that she simply did not want him to know that she knew… or something like that.

Jonas got up and went to the kitchen and put some of the steaks from the plant woman that he had fried and one of her hands on a plate. He re-entered the living room and lowered the plate to the wolf/dog’s level so she could smell and then on the floor and slid it toward her. She made no effort to move away from him or the plate. Once the plate was on the floor, the wolf/dog leaned forward and sniffed at it.

Jonas returned to the couch and put his leg back up on the coffee table and watched.

After a few sniffs, of the fried and raw plant woman, the wolf/dog turned away from it- obviously not interested in it.

“So sue me…” Jonas said. “Hey! That’s a good name for you- Soomi.”

Proud of himself he took another hit off the bottle. The pain pill he had swallowed just after his evening meal was starting to kick in. He washed the whisky down with a couple of swallows of cold beer.

“So watch the house, Soomi,” Jonas slurred. “And if you’ve gotta take a dump… please… go out… side.”

He sort of dropped off, half asleep, and half in one of his frequent, drug and alcohol-induced slumbers. And strange dreams ensued… or reveries or… phantasmagorias or… chimeras as some might call them.

A beautiful woman appeared before him. She was dark-skinned, not black but very tanned... she was dusky. Her hair, however, was jet black and shiny and long. She looked like she might be Mexican or Native American… but she would have to be a princess she was so beautiful… or… maybe a witch… What did they call them? Skin-walkers…

Why would he think that?

She was naked and seemed to kneel before him and touch and caress him a lot in his lower extremities. Maybe it was just his imagination or his deep libido or his repressed sex drive- or something- but it seemed so very sexual to him- so very real what the beautiful woman was doing and so real… despite the fact some part of him knew that it couldn’t be.

The physical sensations could not be denied they were so intense and so extreme. It was almost painful. He was feeling it, not just dreaming it- and out he went... smooth out... unconscious.

When he awoke, moments later or an hour, or whatever... the first thing he saw... to his utter and complete shock... was that his leg below the knee had been completely de-fleshed. It was just raw... exposed bone from the kneecap to the foot. It looked almost like a titanium prosthetic limb... only white... pinkish actually from the stain of blood. He was still wearing his boot; so apparently, his foot had not been taken off or de-fleshed as well but left for some reason.

And it came back to him- suddenly- the reality that had been cloaked and masked in the trickery of the medication and the booze- even before he had the clarity of mind to ask what had happened- the images came flooding back of the she-wolf licking and chewing and tearing chunks of his infected calf away- eating his lower leg- to the bone.

After he had saved her- after he had brought her in- after he had offered her food. She had eaten his infected lower leg. The singular, only creature he had let in... taken in: the only creature that he had not fought off in all that happened… the only creature that he’d attempted to befriend… and hoped to share his solitude with! His reality was unbearable. Could he not be allowed the consolation of one companion?

A bad dream... he mumbled... The end of the world is a nightmare in solitude!

Jonas saw Big Medicine lying on the coffee table and snatched it up and put the barrel in his mouth and hooked his thumb over the trigger inside the trigger guard and squeezed. There was a metallic click… Nothing! He had emptied the magazine saving the bitch and not reloaded. He snatched up his 9mm, Second Amendment, and placed the end barrel into his mouth and…

A voice came out of the CB radio speaker.

“Hello…”

Jonas awoke... again... or thought he did.

It was a female voice. “Somebody… anybody.”

Jonas lay on the couch... muddy-brained... foggy from sleep and everything else. He looked down at his lower leg. His jeans were intact and soiled- he’d pissed himself. His head hurt like a bastard and his eyes were way off focus and caked over with dried mucus. The throbbing of his calf brought the memory back… he’d been rattlesnake bit and injected himself with antivenin.

He rose slowly.

He’d had an allergic reaction- or something: he remembered that much and he’d gone unconscious. But for how long? Was any part of the weirdness reality?

The headless Diamondback Rattlesnake was unceremoniously coiled in the kitchen sink and bloated and stank of putrefaction. Jonas snatched it up by the tail to remove it. It was swarming with gnats.

“I thought I cooked and ate that thing,” he said out loud to himself. “Or did I just dream that too, or hallucinate it? Or multiverse it?!”

He covered his nose and mouth with his free hand and carried the rotting serpent to the front door of the trailer and flung it out into the yard.

“An epic dream,” he thought, “An odyssey!” he chuckled sardonically. “Or is this some kind of death mist hypnosis bullshit... or my life flashing before my eyes... or what?”

He figured he must’ve lost at least a couple of days- maybe three for the snake to swell up like that and stink that bad.

“Did I go to town at least?” he said.

“Hello,” said the female voice again from the CB radio. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to use this thing… Hello!” the woman repeated.

Jonas started for the radio, drawn by the female voice like a cat to catnip or Odysseus to the Sirens but at that same instant heard the honking of a car outside the gate of the compound and a different voice shouting to be heard.

“Please… if there is someone in there, let us in!”

Jonas turned and hobbled out of his trailer house, across the yard, and then up the ladder so he could look down and see who was at the gate. There was a young Mexican man and a little girl in a soiled dress. There was a middle-aged Asian woman with them who appeared to be on her own and another couple who looked like they might be Middle Eastern standing beside a car.

“We have food!” the young Hispanic male said. “But we need shelter!”

“What kind of food?” Jonas said.

“Crisp apple strudel and schnitzel with noodles,” said the Latinx, “Strawberry ice cream and biscuits and onions.”

“Mmmm,” Jonas murmured to himself.

“It’s bad out here,” the Middle Eastern Woman said.

Jonas did not respond. He was uncertain if this motley crew seeking entrance to his fortress of solitude was real or if these were just more phantasms from the specious coterie he’d already experienced in the extended state of hallucination and phantasmagoria he seemed to be swallowed up in. Or worst of all, if he was still sleeping.

“Lollipops, sugar plum,” said the Latinx, “pumpkin soup and cola...”

Jason could only stand and study them hard and try to figure out whether or not to believe his own lying eyes.

“Hey,” the Latinx said, “are you gonna just stand there and stare down at us or let us in?”

“Do you have any weapons?” Jonas asked.

“No,” the Mexican-looking dude responded.

“I don’t believe you,” Jonas said.

“Do you have weapons?” the Hispanic dude said.

“Yes,” Jonas said. “I do, but if you plan to come in here, you’re gonna have to leave yours at the gate.”

“So why do you get to keep yours,” the Middle Eastern-looking woman said, “but we have to lay ours down.”

Jonas’s mind was suddenly sharp again, as a tack, clear and focused. “Because I’m in here and you’re out there but you want in here,” he said. “Take it or leave it.”

“Fuck you then pendejo mother fucker,” the Mexican-looking dude said and pulled a Luger out from under his Sombrero, which he’d not been wearing a few seconds prior, and began firing. He also suddenly sported a large handlebar mustache. And the little girl, with him, suddenly seemed to actually be a midget, raised a tiny squirt gun filled with acid or something that fired off rounds like a machine gun, burning and sizzling everywhere it touched. And the Middle Eastern-looking woman tore open her cliché and exposed the vest that she was wearing, laden with explosives and hand grenades, and pulled the ripcord.

Jonas woke again, or he thought he did anyway: he wasn’t certain. Apparently, he’d been dreaming again, or whatever, with such vividness and alacrity that he wouldn’t be able to encipher, if his soul depended on it, whether he was standing before the Almighty God of Final Judgement or Beelzebub, the Lord of Flies pouring a gallon of the unguent of mendacity into his ear. He kept trying to stitch together enough threads of what was factually factual to give him at least a handkerchief sized cloth of reality.

Had there been a group of people at the gate?

Did he befriend a wolf-dog that chewed the infected flesh off his leg?

He looked down at his leg. He was lying on the couch and his leg was propped up on the coffee table. Nope... the infection and the smell were still there.

Had he heard a woman’s voice coming from the CB radio? It was possible but the electricity was off again so it would’ve been earlier.

He heard the sound of the shower running in the bathroom. Immediately, his erector pili contracted and the hairs rose on his arms and the back of his neck: he had goosebumps so bad he thought he might honk... like a goose... not a car.

Jonas then as quietly as she could, slid his leg off the coffee table and looked around until he found his 9 mm Beretta and picked it up and racked the slide to make sure it was cocked, locked, and ready to rock and then snatched up a flashlight he kept handy and tippy-toed as much as possible to the bathroom.

He could see out the window that it was night and there was a big moon out, enough to assist him in ascertaining that there was someone in his shower. The room was a little steamed up. And the moonlight gusting through the window projected the form of a female in silhouette on the clear plastic shower curtain.

Shapely, she was, large breasted and with defined hips, standing with her face upward toward the shower head as the water streamed down her.

Jonas aimed the beam of the flashlight at the bathroom floor and saw the same large welding gloves and dark goggles that he used to weld sheets of metal etc. to the walls of his fortress strewn about on the bathroom floor... and also like the ones he saw on the pork pie hat wearing, lemur tailed assholes who stole his gasoline in town.

He kept the barrel of his gun up and carefully made his way toward the shower. “Hey!” he said. “It’s not cool to just break into somebody’s compound and start using up all the hot water.”

The large-chested woman in the shower did not respond, just kept her face tilted up, directly in the water gushing out the shower head.

“Hey... do you hear me?” Jonas said but there was still no response.

The mystery woman seemed completely unaware that Jonas was even in the room with her. Finally and cautiously, he reached up and quickly threw back the shower curtain and shone the beam of the flashlight in her face. It was a ‘Weirdling’, the name he’d given to the creatures he'd seen rising from the shallow graves in the woods. She had her face tilted toward the shower head. She was not simply showering but drinking the water. And when she, at last, turned toward Jonas, he could see was partially amorphous like the others he’d seen. But this one had breasts like a real woman and externally, at least, the beginnings of a vagina. Her head hair was reddish or brownish and stringy and looked more like the roots of plants or vines and her eyes were like the eyes of the others he’d seen; just white... like marbles or mothballs.

She opened her mouth then and let out a horrifying screeching shriek of some kind and some sort of mist that enveloped Jonas’s entire upper body. So he shot her.

She flailed her arms about and spurted green blood. So Jonas shot her again. She clutched the shower curtain and pulled it off the rod as she fell to the floor. And she kicked about and then twitched like she had a nervous system, which Jonas doubted. And she flipped her hands around and her feet and convulsed dramatically for a few more seconds and screeched a couple of more times and then finally lay silent and still.

He stood over her, Jonas did and stared down and rubbed the mist off his arms and face that the dead Weirdling had spewed on him. It was viscous and periwinkle sort of like the kill mist that had been sprayed on humanity by the Aliens from their craft.

“What are you?!” he said and nudged her with his right foot, which caused pain to shoot up his leg and into his back.

“Damn!” he said at the realization of his pain again but then kicked her again... mostly to see if she was alive, less out of anger or contempt.

Her facial features were more obviously female than the other creatures he’d seen. Her nose was not quite human and the nostrils were overly large. Her lips were sort of sucker-like. Her eyes were like the others he’d seen. She had no ears but gills, sort of, like a fish.

“Why are you doing this to me?!” he said out of frustration. “Why?! Why?!

His frustration and anger were mutual and mounting.

“Drinking my hot water... stealing food out of my truck? Why won’t you just leave me alone?! Goddammit?!”

Jonas reached down and grabbed the lifeless creature by one of her feet and, limping on his stump of a leg, dragged her through the front room and down the steps and through the smashed-in car fenders and rusted bumpers and transmissions and old back seats and hoods with ornaments et al. And as much pain, as it caused him, he dragged the dead vegetable woman finally up the ladder to the small platform he’d built at the top edge of the corrugated metal walls around his fortress. And he looked down and saw several of the creature’s kith and kin hiding, lurking in the darkness at the edge of the lights from his compound and meandering in the dark puddles obscurity.

“Leave me the fuck alone Goddmanit!” he shouted. “Leave me alone!”

And then he boosted the body of the dead female thing over his head.

“I’ll kill every fucking one of you!” he shouted and heaved the vegetable bitch down at the others. She must’ve landed on top of one of them or something. Jonas heard what sounded like a large stick of celery snapping in half, or a carrot.

And then despite the light from the poles that Jonas had himself erected to ward off the dusk and gloom of the world, he found himself in, the other creature swarmed over the body and commenced to eat her. Jonas decided he would let them enjoy their last supper before he hobbled back to get his guns and started blasting.