Children of the Plague

Chapter Twenty: Junior

Still dreaming, or so Lanni hoped, the offspring’s chest peeled back in a silent snarl, and the successive rows of teeth parted. A thin, worm-like tendril snaked out between its teeth, growing thinner as it telescoped closer to her face, waving slowly through the air.

What the…?

She had never seen a landshark with tentacles. This was something new! The only variation she’d ever seen among offspring was in size. Whether the size of a mouse or an elephant, they all had exactly the same bluish black skin, yellow extremities, mouth in the chest, and brains for a face.

The differences jumped out at her now that she knew to look for them. Its skin was too dark. The yellow of its claws was slightly muted, and of course, the tentacles were a new feature. They inched closer, while only a few feet away on the sidewalk, the husks continued their search. They must have been following her scent.

This had to be one of the natural born offspring that Alex had warned her about. He said they’d be bigger, tougher, and smarter than their human-born cousins, and the ridges on their heads would be taller and more defined. Without human parents, they would also lack the grotesque, vestigial faces that dangled from first generation’s chins.

It was one thing to know how to identify a natural born, but what about killing one? She raced through everything she knew about offspring, everything she had seen, and everything Alex had taught her. The terrifying truth, however, was that she knew absolutely nothing about how a natural born offspring would act in a fight.

She inched forward along the wall, pushing herself with her feet, grinding more shards of glass into her shoulder and arm. She only moved about two inches before that tentacle reacted. It stopped waving lazily and pointed directly at her.

A heavy, rhythmic thumping sound came from outside, growing louder with every second, and directly above her, a skinny husk leaned through the window to look around.

The tentacles shot up at the unfortunate creature, grabbed it, and dragged it inside. It kicked and stomped on Lanni’s chest and stomach, screaming in pain or terror, or both. She couldn’t avoid crying out, either. Its bare heel landed hard on her ribs.

She sat up to scoot back to the corner and risked a quick glance outside. The street was busy with both offspring and husks, running like stampeding cattle. One of the closer offspring slowed down and veered toward her, probably sensing the dying husk’s terror.

The giant offspring beside her didn’t bother to stand. Several shorter tentacles, the same yellow as its claws, wrapped around the husk and dragged it into its open jaws. The husk’s flesh sizzled and smoked beneath those yellow coils.

Another offspring, about half the size of the one on the floor, jumped onto the counter. A child, perhaps? Easily four hundred pounds, it was a pretty big baby. The ridges on its head blurred, emitting a deep hum she felt in her chest, like the thumping bass from her old neighbor’s sound system. This was something new, too.

Another time, Lanni would have been pleased to dispatch the entire happy family. But her hatred of offspring had to stand down. The next time she’d get the chance to see a second-gen offspring in action, she’d probably be fighting it. Better to watch and learn their capabilities than be surprised by them when it mattered.

The big daddy offspring grabbed its prey with a claw and retracted its tentacles. Its jaws snapped shut on the husk in a diagonal line across its torso. Its jaws shivered, severing it from right shoulder to left hip, with its head, chest, and one arm trapped inside the living meat grinder. The husk’s no-longer-kicking legs and lower abdomen fell in a messy heap on the floor.