Biohazard

15

Right away a wave of blackness rolled through my brain. My mind was uplinked with that of The Shape and The Shape was letting my mind reach out beyond until I could sense The Medusa out there. I could feel a horrible crawling in my head as if thousands of worms had infested my brain, tunneling, digging deeper, breeding and brooding, their hot, moist eggs bursting with millions of writhing larval young.

I screamed.

In my mind I screamed.

For this was The Medusa, what it was: an invasive life force of infestation and pestilence and charnel horror. Not worms, not really, but exploding particles of virus.

The Medusa’s voice was in my head, a dry and snakelike hissing.

I could smell millions of slimy corpses rotting, bursting with gas and worms, greening with putrescence. It was a crypt smell, a stench of fuming corpse ovens, of carrion boiling with maggots, of viral infestation. Of cities heaped with the dead and plucked white bones piled like ramparts up into the sky.

The voice hissed and the worms dug deeper and I felt my mind implode like thunder, as The Medusa enveloped it in a black, pestile cloud of corruption, invading my mind as its children must invade cells: sliding tendrils through membranes, draining them dry, bloating them with a hideous viral pregnancy like millions of eggs hot and juicy that would erupt with seeking death-