>> Infernal Infection

Cool tile stretches from eyeballs to infinite darkness. Walls of glass pressing inward, on both sides. My heart, settled after the fight, begins to thrum as my sense pick up an unsettling wrongness. a feeling that blooms into reality as my eyes track along the wall of dead freezers on one side, and the mass of fridges on the other. Tufty shrinking deeper into the trolley as our gazes slip along steamed glass doors. Tracking across eerily normal pots of ice cream, gleaming with happy little cones and waffles.

Normal. Yes.

Normal, right up until they aren't. Until they erupt into a florid carnage of mould and fungus. A mayhem of fronds and unhealthy colours. With fringes of fluff that give way to glass that writhes with slithering, slickening, sliming corruption. With things of unsettling movement and texture that press and suck against windows once filled with childish treats. Ending in a wild explosion of strands as thick as branches. A fungal tree almost ready to rip free from the rotten, blackened, interior of a chiller right in the middle of the dark.....

“Widower Fungus.” I whisper. “Harmless….”

“Um, it doesn’t sound-”

“…unless ya walk near it.” I add. “Which is when its swings that door open and sucks your ass in.”

He gulps. “Okay.”

"Or breathe in the spores." I add. "In which case-"

"Nyaaah! I don't wanna know!!"

“How the heck did it get in there, though?” I continue in a low mutter. “Place is sealed....”

We stare at the monstrous, pulsating.... thing. And Tufty swallows. “Um…. I think I see b-bones….. Inside…. U-under the glass…..”

“Ah….” I whisper. “Infected. Bet that’s how they spread. Must’ve snuck its fungusy ass in before the place shut down." I shiver. "Ate its host, in there, with a nice bit o’ choco-whip fudge for desert….”

“And….. And that thing's.... still alive? After all this time?” He wibbles.

“Dunno.” I murmur. “Monsters like that…. They can wait a loong time….. But, eh, y'never know..... maybe it’s just rot now.” I grin. “Could send in a catboy to check.”

"Nuuu......" He hisses. Very quietly. “C-can we go?”

“Sure. Lemmie just warn the others….” I tag the threat on my scopes, and slink back into the shimmering light of the store. Bringing up the others on a vScreen.

"Shit. Freezers are dead?" Kami into her wrist-camera, face bulging down at me.

"Just the ones the ice cream, cheese, butter, and other gross shit like that." I smirk, quietly.

"Aw, mate! C'mon!" Zip's avatar groans horribly. "Mate. Damn. You saying, like, the food ain't safe?"

"Hey. Relax. There's bloody buckets of it in storage, and there's a mini freezer at the front with pots-"

"Spook. It could all be bad." Kami puts in, earnestly. "My scans are coming back okay, but the air scrubbers are choked off. There's a good chance it's been spread all over the place. Little bits mixed in with the dust, coating the packets. If we miss even one, we could all get sick. Maybe even-"

I shiver and huddle a little deeper into perfect rows of packaged pretzels. All red, and green, and blue. Fighting the urge to close my eyes, and pretend the Widower doesn't exist. To give into the hunger, and just rip through the old food like a tornado. But I take a long, hard, breath, and look up. "Pol. What d'ya think?"

A flickering thing of cogs and nightmare equations unfurls into being behind me. Ticking, gently, as it considers the problem. "Sealed food will not be contaminated." It states in that same rending monotone. "Stasis lights kill spores. Bacteria. Viruses. Scanners will pick up any trace amounts on your person when you exit the shop."

"Good to hear." I sigh out gently.

"Likely the Widower is stable, and has been sealed within its environment for decades. However; you must remain vigilant for offshoots and contamination. Particularly in surrounding rows."

"Either way." Kami states in a slow, thinking-out-loud, tone. "We've got to treat this old crap as emergency supplies only, and start looking to replace it. Even the stuff in storage."

"Can we sell it?"

She shakes her head. "Some of it. Maybe. If it's rare enough...."

"Right." I nod, slowly. "Extra, extra, caution then. Scan everything when we exit. Including us."

"Right, mate!"

Kami's eyes roll. "Sure, whatever."

"Zas. We shall be." Demon sticks out his chin.

I crush the vScreen, and check my breather. Just for reassurance. If this wasn't, very probably, the only food we'll see this month..... "No. I ain't gonna worry." I murmur. Half the food on the Pirate tower is older, weider, and (for all I know) spent time stuck up a monster's.... let's not go there.

So, either way, I'm just gonna trust the scans.

The decision sparks a shock of something urgent in my skin.

A feeling like all this food might be a one time deal.

"C'mon. Let's pile up our stash." I grunt to a gibbering kitty. And we set off again, on our little expedition. Grabbing breadables, spreadables, and Inorganic Nutrient Packs along the way. Plus a few other bits. Brushes, art supplies, and nail polish for Tufty (and Badger's wall. And Badger's face). A mini game keyring for Zip. A sturdy 'pest whackin' broom for Gremlin (I hope she likes it).

And so on.

Tufty perks after a bit. Scampering about (and through) my legs as we go. Snuffling at things on shelves, and scanning the more dubious snacks. We hit a drinks fridge, and there’s the usual war over Red Coke vs Blue. I grab some of each, to make him happy - plus a few weirder things, for political neutrality. And soon our trolly is bulging full with synthetic treats, meals, colourful packets, pop, pretzels, and (of course) indestructible neon-yellow snack-cakes. Forcing me to offload a few of the lighter items into our holdall - which I heft onto Tufty.

Who drops flat on his ass, like some bugger stole his legs.

“Mew! This is- EEEK!!!!”

“Uh…. You alright, squirt? It's.... literally just crisps. It ain’t heavy….” My hand twitches toward his, but I step back at the same time. Leaving his green-clawed fingers hanging in the air. I barely catch the flash of venom and hurt as his face snaps away. Ears quivering, and flat. Then drooping, as his head sinks. A tear rolling down the one, visable, side of his face. And my hand reaches again, but clenches into a shiver of self-hate. And I turn to go. “Ah…. C’mon, kid…. You want me to-”

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"M'fine."

"Okay-"

“Spookie…." The little neko bursts. "Y’know…. Y'know....” But even his shaking voice droops, too. Drifting off into a whisper so low and glum even GMO ears can barely catch it. So low I can pretend I didn’t. "You know we're.... safe.... now..... And.... and She….. She can’t see us no more.....? And....."

I stare at the fallen bag. Rigid as rock, from tail to nose, as the image of our Evil Stepmother shines bright and fresh in my mind. Smiling so tenderly. So Lovingly. So…..

God.... I can't even pretend he’s right….

Tears burn my cheeks as well.

I can’t. I can’t…..

I can’t let HER see me care for them.

Because if I do…. If she knows she can still hurt me by....

She’ll…..

I slam my hands down on the trolly, and choke. Forcing the emotion back down, into the tight little box where it belongs. And then, I simply grip the rail. Dragging the cart behind me - one handed - as pad away down the cool-tiled isles. Finding solitude and silance in the dim, strange, light.....

...as I leave the cat in darkness.

But my grief is soon interupted by a spark of blue eye, and a flicking hand. "Hey mate! Mate! Up for, like, a hobnob in the biscuit isle?" He smirks, waggling a packet. "Or a jammie dodger?"

"Haha. But nah. Already hit that one.” I say, tossing him the keychain. "Plus, I ain't eatin' nothin' till we're all scanned."

“Oh! Wow! Gatcha Monsters!” He grins as a cartoony 2D world of toothy critters bursts into holographic life. “Damn, like…. Y'know I think we had a couple of these... back at.....”

Joan's house.....

“Yeah. I got us one each.” I brush through it, dangling a handful that blip and chirp as they detect Zipper’s. Prompting us with icons for treasure-hunt events, battles, and trades.

“Nice! And you got, like, the triple-choc delux-!” He jolts and stutters off into a coughing fit as Tufty skitters up behind in a clatter of claws. Dragging the bag-strap, and blinking, hugely, up at us with a big feline eye. “Damn, mate, that was close. Thought it was, y’know like, Kami or something.” He whispers in close as we crouch on our toes.

"Did that sound like Kami?" I scoff.

"Yeah, nah. Like, just heard a noise." He coughs again. "But, yeah, that reminds me..... She’s been, like, creeping about? Y'know? I saw her…. sort-of, like-" He spins a finger to encompas the store. "I mean, she’s not been with me. Or Dee.”

“She’s not?” I blink. “Wait. Where is Dee?”

“End of the isle, mate. Keeping watch.” He checks his comms are off, then checks again. “Mate…. I think, like, she’s up to something? Maybe?” He twitches his head toward the counter. “Over there? Or maybe, like….”

“Think she’s spyin' on us?” I mutter as his left hand shimmers with light that gleams off foil packets. He shuts it, quickly, snuffing the scanner. Stuffing a pack of chocolate orange ‘Jiffy Cakes’ in his bag

“Maybe. Dunno mate. ” Zip shurgs. “But, like, she keeps…. creeping-?”

All our heads - and my ears - spin in every direction. Scanning dark shelves loaded with glittering bargains.

Nothing.

I meet his wincing gaze. “If she gets wind about-” I tap my left hand. “-shit may get very real very fast.”

His teeth clench. “Maybe not, though? Right? Omega Zeros to the end? Right?”

“She…No. Damnit. There’s no telling how she’ll react-”

Another weird noise.

I shush him, and duck back out, around the trolley. Prowling along the middle isle, on all fours. Head low, and hunting. If she's necking the hooch.... eh. I never saw her. But….

The sound again. From near the counter.

And, this time, a waft of perfume - laden with eu de scraggly [Sniper]…... I slip toward the checkouts, past ruined bots, and more. Until I see her spidery shadow spread high across the wall by the counter. Lit by the flicker of dead machines.

Damn…. what’s she doing?

I put knuckles on the floor, and raise clawed toes to keep them from clicking. Pad. Pad. Pad. Gentle as can be. Mind your tail on the outcrops.....

Don’t let it touch….

I jerk back from the corner.

Shit, she’s twitchy. Keeps-

“Oi! Spook! Are y-you bloody creeping about back there!? I can s-see your dot on the scope!” Kami stutters in a weirdly terrified voice, and I jump upright. Grabbing a bottle of squash at random as I step out into view. Trying for casual, and failing by a mile.

“Hey I was just-” Shit, she’s the ‘only one’ with a handheld scanner…. “-scoping the juices. Wanted your opinion?”

“Yeah right, Spook. You’re spying.” She flips her braids back. Beads clattering against the glass cabinet behind her like angry, nervous, nails. “You are, aren’t you?”

“Hah. Nooo? I was-” shit shit shiiit…. “Look, alright, fine. I was creepin’ about. But I weren’t looking for you. I was-”

“Y-you weren’t. Huh?” She snaps, as I slink out into view. Clutching my bottle of horrible squash like a shield.

“Yeah, look….” I take a step closer, and she jerks back. “Keep it down-low, but Zip thinks he saw Badger.”

“He did, huh? Where’d he see him then!?” She folds all her metallic arms. Eyes flashing me up and down - then behind me. Meanwhile, I keep my gaze level and cool. Avoiding even a glance at the ‘Luxury Perfumes’ advert playing above her head. Or the wall of artistic bottles and boxes behind her. The words ‘Thought you hated girly stuff?’ nudging their suicidal way up my throat.

But I head them off.

“Eh. No idea. Probably helping Gremmy stuff her scaly lil gob.” I hoick a thumb at the Pick n’ Mix Corner by the tills, and cyber-girl frowns. Gritting her teeth as Plausible Deniability worms its sneaky way into the conversation.

“Yeah. Sure.” She scoffs. Storming past me to peer around the island of gumball dispencers. She looks left. She looks right. And then she turns to me, and drops he arms. “Well. Where are they?”

“Hey. I said I was huntin’ em. Never said I found-”

“Right.” She heel-stomps over to me, and aims a poke that snaps my ears flat. “Something’s up, here, so spill it.”

“No touching. I told ya.” I growl. Giving her my most innocent angry glare.

“Cut the crap, Spook. What’s going on?” Her mouth is thin and ‘angry’. Her eyes flared with rage. Her hard face a mess of hollow cheeks. Lines. Dark bags. Scars. But beneath it, soft as breath, is the faintest waft of floral perfume. A fog of it that rolls off her fingers in exotic, guilty, clouds. As if she sniffed a tester-bottle, then quickly put it back. Hoping nobody would see.

“Kami….” I state in calm, cold, surity. “There ain’t nothin’ going on here. We’re all sneakin’ about. So just deal with it.”

I whip away.

Feeling her shake with rage behind me. Twisted up in her own trauma, until she’s ready to snap.

And then she does.

“Look. I just- I thought that crap’d make good scent bombs! Alright!? Thought some rancid old stink would throw off our Stepmother’s bloody GMOs.”

“Okay.” I hesitate, tail tilting as I half-turn. “That’s cool. Didn’t think o’ that. And they’re pre-packaged too…..” I try for a fangy smile. But her face is white-hot carnage of roaring emotion. All of it crushed, tightly, into something barely reminicent of neutrality. “Want me to help ya find the nastiest-?”

She waves me off.

“No. No, it’s fine. You’re GMO. I’m not. One sniff, and you’ll blow out your sense of smell for hours. So…. So just go…. go…. do something…..”

“Right…. Sure….. I’ll…. I’ll do a quickie Badger patrol.” I stutter. “Yeah. That’s a good idea.”

She almost sags in relief. “You better. His idea of ‘scanning’ stuff is to go ‘beep beep’ and wave a packet of jaffa cakes over it.”

“T’be fair, that’s a great way to find out if Gremlin’s hiding behind it.” I finish, wrly, quickening off toward the stacks. But she clears her throat, suddenly.

“Spook.”

I turn, one last time.

But she scrunches her bone-white eyebrows. Looking away. “Spook. If you ever wanna….”

I blink. Do what?

Talk? Hang out? Learn to dance? Summon a demon?

“….shit. Never mind…..”

“Kami…. You…. You don’t gotta lie if….” I stop, still, as her face turns hard as graven rock.

“Nobody told a lie here, unless you did. Spook.”

“Right.” I mutter in the still darkness, while everything inside me screams at her. Shakes her. Slaps her. And yells she’s allowed to like things, Goddamnnit.

But….. if I told her….

….I’d have to tell myself, too…..

So, instead, I vanish off into a shadowy tunnel of flickering adverts and shining plastic packaging. Determined to enjoy our time exploring this little, forgotten, wonderland.

But what am I even doing?

What if…..

I snap a hard turn into the cake-isle, and Tufty jumps clear off the floor. Dropping the can of synthetic tuna he was all but sexually harassing. “EEEK!! Oh! Um! Gosh! Heeey, what’s going on Spookie? I, um, huh, um…..” He mewls up at me. Glancing back at Demon, some way down the isle.

“Looking for Badge and Grem too, huh?” I smirk.

“Ah, um, uh….. maybe?” He mumbles, hiding the tin away in my holdall.

“Y’know.” I say, yanking a couple of bags off the stand. “I bet he’d randomly appear outta nowhere if we started loading up on….” I check the pack “….toffee fudge eclairs.”

“Oh? Um? Gosh! You really think so??”

I wink at the cat. “Can’t hurt to check.”

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