Gary was about ten shovel loads of earth from finishing the grave when the sky turned black.

He glanced up from the five foot deep rectangle he was standing in. Thick, dark clouds were rolling in from the east faster than he’d ever seen clouds move in his life.

“Weird,” he muttered.

Even from his below ground level position, he could feel a driving wind. The June sky, which had been clear moments earlier, was getting darker by the second.

Gary took a moment, leaning on his shovel, to observe the phenomenon. The obsidian clouds rolled and swirled, passing overhead and speeding towards the horizon on the other side.

Within less than a minute, they had covered the entire sky, in jagged, twisting shapes with pitch black masses lined with gunmetal grey. It was almost impossible to see the edges of the clouds, giving the impression an enormous piece of black paper had been drawn across the heavens.

“Damn,” Gary muttered, “Did not see that coming at all.”

He’d checked the weather report before the job. The meteorologists had agreed: Sunny skies with maybe a chance of rain later in the day, but nothing like this.

He considered his options.

The rain that was doubtless about to hit would be torrential, if the clouds were anything to go by. He’d brought the standard tarpaulin and weights to cover the grave, along with a six-foot pole to lift the sheet up. It was unusual for a grave to fill with water, no matter how heavy the weather. But keeping it covered before the burial was respectful.

Gary hated leaving a job unfinished, and a little rain didn’t hurt anyone. He could finish up before it hit. He wished he’d packed his waterproof clothing, but there was no point griping about it.

He pushed his shovel into the remaining earth, kicked down with his boot and threw the load over his shoulder onto the pile by the side of the grave.

Nine more shovel loads, he estimated, as he dug in again. Easy to finish before the rain hits.

Eight, seven, six.

Gary worked steadily, his muscles used to the actions.

When he’d started the job a year ago, he’d reached the end of three hours digging and felt spent, his biceps and shoulders aching and longing for a rest. These days it didn’t bother him anymore. One advantage of the work, he supposed. He dug three or four graves a week, which was a decent workout, especially for a temporary job.

Digging graves wasn’t what he’d planned when he’d finished his landscape architecture degree, but it was fine for now. It was paying the bills, it got him outdoors, and he was getting freelance commissions here and there for gardens. It all added up, and at twenty three he was grateful for any job. Still, it was a little less grand than he’d hoped for.

Five, four, three.

In the distance, Gary could hear the rain hitting.

He glanced up again. Beyond the headstones, above the rooftops of Bidlington, he could see the rain. It looked heavy, moving towards him like a dark curtain. It looked thicker than anything he’d ever seen.

Really should have brought that raincoat, he thought.

As it was, he’d dressed in a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, some heavy duty boots and a pair of gloves. Standard clothing for the work.

The first plopping sounds hit as he shovelled the last mound of earth out of the grave. The noise wasn’t like the usual sound of rain falling. Gary had always thought the sound of rain was quite pleasant, in all its varieties, from the soft swooshing of a summer shower to the tattoo of heavy rain beating down on windows and pavements.

But this was a thicker sound, somehow darker.

More plopping noises, getting closer and closer.

Time to go. Just a couple more things to take care of.

This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

He placed the shovel onto the bank of grass. At five feet deep, the ground level was a little under his shoulder height. Gary stepped on the low stepladder he always brought with him and jumped out of the grave, surveying his handiwork.

It was a good job. He’d smoothed the side of the grave down as he worked.

He reached over to some planks and placed them around the edge of the grave. The planks were to ensure the pallbearers had a steady footing. In front of the hole, he arranged two wooden beams for the coffin to rest on.

Then there was just the job of transporting of the mound of earth away from the grave and the webbing straps to lower the coffin to be done.

Gary knew he’d run out of time, however. He’d have to deploy the tarpaulin covers now, over both the grave and the mound of earth beside it.

He clicked his tongue in irritation, glancing up at the sky again with a scowl. He really did hate leaving a job unfinished, but he’d just have to come back later when the storm had passed.

The plop-plop-plop sounds were getting closer and closer.

And the rain…

Gary squinted, uncertain of what he was seeing. The rain was...black? And somehow thick?

It was falling at the edge of the graveyard now. Huge drops of black rain were landing. Instead of vanishing into the earth, they were turning the ground black. It reminded Gary of when hailstone hits, the earth getting covered and turning white. Except in this case it was turning black.

Was black hailstone possible? Was it some kind of industrial pollution effect?

PLOP!

Gary looked down.

A slug-like creature had landed by his boot.

Gary stared at it in confusion.

It was larger than any slug he’d ever seen, about the length and width of two middle fingers pressed together. The slug squirmed on the ground and then started moving towards Gary. It slithered with a hideous intent. It was as fast as a grass snake.

Gary took two steps backwards, freaked out.

More of the black slug things landed, and the plopping sounds grew louder and more frequent. One slug landed on Gary’s forearm, another on his head. He yelped and snatched them both off, throwing the slimy things as far away as he could.

The slugs on the ground started streaming towards him. He’d never seen slugs move so quickly. Whatever these things were, they weren’t natural.

He took another step backwards, stumbled and fell into the grave. He broke his fall with his arms, leaving him uninjured. But now he was lying in the grave.

The slugs rained down on him.

Gary screamed, clawing the things off as fast as he could. He kicked and writhed, but the slug-rain had reached a crescendo. Every time he tore one off, two more landed on him.

“What the hell?” he shouted, as he kicked and scraped the slugs off him.

One slug landed half in his mouth and he spat it out, nauseated.

He scrabbled up to the edge of the grave, planning to climb out. Even more of the slugs were on the grass, all streaming towards him. Gary stepped back, flailing. There were too many of them.

He gazed in horror as one of the black slugs burrowed its way into his flesh. He grabbed at it, but half of it had already vanished. He caught the slippery tail, but it burrowed into his skin before he could pull it out.

Gary screamed, wanting to puke.

And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the rain of slugs stopped.

The ones that were still on him slithered away or sank into the earth. They seemed uninterested in him.

Gary guessed why.

“One of you got me, didn’t you? So now the rest of you are off to find other people to impregnate? Is that it? This is some kind of low-budget Alien deal? I’m going to give birth to some slug queen now, and die horribly?”

Snap out of it, he told himself.

Aliens from the sky seemed as good an explanation as any, though. He scratched at the spot where the slug had entered him. The skin where it had entered was unbroken. But he could feel the damn thing wriggling inside him.

He swore and scratched at his arm. The slug thing wriggled up his forearm, beneath his bicep, over his shoulder. Gary kept scratching, even though it was hopeless. He could feel it, but he couldn’t see it. It slithered through his shoulder, up his neck.

“Oh God,” Gary shouted as he felt the slug slither to the base of his skull.

A sudden warmth hit him.

It started in his brain, where he’d last felt the slug-thing.

Despite the horror, it was not an unpleasant feeling. In fact, it was like having a door unlocked inside him. One he’d never noticed before. This warm, alert feeling stretched outwards across the whole of his body. He felt a moment of actual elation. His mind was more alert than ever.

It was a feeling of power and untapped potential.

A voice came out of nowhere. It was a calm voice, soothing almost.

The System is Seeding. Please Standby. Planet is now 10% seeded. 20% seeded. 30% seeded.

Gary stared around wildly. Where was that coming from? It sounded like it was...in his head?

40% seeded. 50% seeded. 60% seeded.

I’m hallucinating, Gary thought. The slug thing has got into my brain and is feeding me some weird chemicals causing me to lose my mind, right before my head explodes into a gooey alien mess.

Somehow, Gary knew that wasn’t right. The slug thing had gone. He was sure of that. It had a function, and it had fulfilled it. Gary grappled at this awareness, still half-convinced he was hallucinating or dreaming. The slugs function had been to…

The voice answered his unfinished sentence for him.

You are being initiated into the system. Please standby. System is seeding. 65% seeded.