Filaria - Brent Hayward [102]
At his feet, the tiled floor was merely damp but in other places this long hall had been flooded to his knees. Almost totally dark, the ceiling was low enough to touch. Pipes clanged and howled. Some dripped on him. He had passed a few pipes torn completely from their moorings; these, spraying, had drenched him. He was now soaked to the skin, and his skin, irritated, tingled.
Dim lights flickered, brightened momentarily, became dimmer still.
Chewing, and licking at his teeth, Tran so opened his fly to piss into the dirty gutter. He looked both ways and muttered, “Management, my ass,” for either he had been intentionally sent astray by the clerk or he had ended up in the wrong place by his own inability to follow directions: there certainly did not appear to be any form of higher god down here. In fact, the fetid place was deserted and crumbling before his eyes.
Soon, he told himself. If there was no change in the situation soon, he would turn back, re-ascend, and go home to Minnie sue.
For a second, he considered stopping off, apologizing to Sandra, but he could not trust himself to see her again and he was still somewhat stung by embarrassment.
He shook his penis dry. He did not tuck it away.
The air was thick here and the stench strong. Yet not altogether unpleasant.
Sandra. When he had finally found her, straightening the sheets on a bed, he had told her how he felt, what he wanted to do . . . The experience of being summarily rebuked had been a further blow to his ego, almost a physical slap. But how could the situation have ended any other way? Had he really expected Sandra to agree to his proposal? She had just stared at him. The look on her face, as she stepped back — the expression of disdain, and fear — had been answer enough.
Reflecting upon this now, in isolation, he felt that the rejection had a cathartic effect on him, seemed to have broken the spell he’d been put under. He felt closure, release.
What had possessed him? Had parasites of a more insidious nature than the ones from Lake Seven remained inside him, eating away at all he had held precious? How could he possibly have fallen for Sandra so completely and expected her to feel the same?
He was grateful that affection for his wife was rejuvenated. He had recaptured precious memories of Minnie sue, and put them back where they belonged.
Closing his eyes, he forced these images of his wife to remain in his mind. Slowly, he masturbated, tribute to Minnie sue, to their life together. He thought of her mouth, her breasts, her ass. His cock was hard and he came almost immediately, grunting and opening his eyes in time to see his jism falling in lumpy yellow streaks against the damp and mouldy wall. His seed trickled down to the water spigot.
And then the world shook, literally, and he just stood there, knees weak, grinning and panting.
He waited for his erection to subside. Love for his sick wife swelled and pulsed inside him.
He wiped his hands on his pants.
“Hello?”
Tran so wheeled at the voice.
“Excuse me, sir, sorry to be a bother . . .”
Coming hesitantly down the hall toward him was a trio of blond teenage boys, all dressed in clean, grey uniforms. Tran so tucked himself in and snapped up the fastening stud of his pants. The outfits these boys wore were different than either the Ensign’s or the dark gods’ had been, for these were well pressed, nearly pristine, as if they’d never before been worn (though they were damp and stained around the cuffs). Even the three faces had a fresh quality.
“Hello there yourself,” Tran so replied. He held his hand out to shake but when he saw the reaction on all three faces, he decided against the gesture and let his hand fall to his side.
The boys had stopped several metres from Tran so, sizing him up with identical features.
Tran so had the feeling that if he turned his back he would never be able to recall any of their indistinct attributes.
Triplets?
Maybe fourteen, fifteen years old, tops.
“You understand what we’re saying?” the one in the centre