Fuck, something was inside of him!
“Shaney!” Todd shouted.
Wild with terror and dread, Shaney sprinted across the field. Something was crawling, slithering under his skin. Frantically, he rubbed as if wiping away imaginary bugs. His chest heaved as he tried to get in the slightest amount of air. Get it out of me! Something was growing inside of him, pushing aside organs, crowding his mind, changing him.
“Get it out of me!” he cried out, punching at his chest.
“Shaney, stop it!” Todd tackled him around the waist, and they crashed to the ground.
Shaney fought with every ounce of his being against the thing inside of him as well as Todd trying to pin him down.
“Shaney, calm the fuck down!” Todd grunted as Shaney’s elbow knocked him in the mouth.
“Get off of me!” Shaney screamed. “I need it out of me. Cut it out of me!”
Todd laid his heavy frame on Shaney’s bucking form. Todd was bigger and stronger however, in his adrenaline-fueled state, Shaney fought for all he was worth. Todd managed to secure Shaney’s legs with his own and pinned one of Shaney’s arms over his head. Shaney’s other arm flailed as Todd worked on trapping the limb between their bodies. Shaney had to get away. He couldn’t—
There was a sharp pinch in Shaney’s neck and his limbs immediately grew heavy. A rush of something warm filled his head and made him feel sluggish. He looked up at Todd who lay over him, heaving from the exertion. Sweat dripped from his hair. In his hand, he held up an actual syringe.
Shaney frowned. “Did you…you shoot me up with s-some…thing?” Shaney’s tongue seemed to thicken in his mouth. His muscles relaxed involuntarily.
The misery in Todd’s eyes, the sorrow in the lines of his face, was palpable. “I’m so sorry.” The edges of Shaney’s vision darkened. Todd’s voice echoed as if they were in a tunnel. “He said I had to. I didn’t have a choice.”
“Todd,” Shaney whispered on a sharp exhale. His heavy lids closed. Adrift, he struggled to remain conscious, but the undertow was strong. Faintly, he heard Todd speaking. “I got him…”
Shaney needed help. His last thought was of Hudson.
Chapter Eleven
“Ugh,” Shaney groaned with one hand on his head, and the other wrapped around his middle. The last time he’d been this hung-over was after Todd had force-fed him tequila shots all night. We’ll, maybe not forced. God, he hoped he hadn’t eaten the worm again. He swore that’s what had given him diarrhea for a week. Plus, there had been those nightmares of the worm growing and multiplying in his intestines. He shuddered.
Breathing slowly through his nose, Shaney fought the nausea roiling in waves through his stomach. Yuck! What was that smell? The air reeked of moldy, damp carpet. Had he left the window open and rain soaked his floor again? Clutching his head, he tried to sit upright, but listed to one side. After several long moments, he finally gained his equilibrium. First, he needed to go to the bathroom. Then he’d kill Todd.
The thought sent an icy chill down Shaney’s spine. He wasn’t suffering from a hangover. Todd—that son of a bitch—had stabbed him in the neck with a needle. The fucker had drugged him! A strangling onslaught of emotions wrapped tight around his chest, making it hard to breathe. His best friend…the person he trusted with his very life…more than his own mother. He really was going to kill him. Without thought, Shaney’s eyes popped open. Thankfully, only a faint light filled the room because anything brighter would have stabbed into his eyes.
“What the…?”
Where in Hades was he? The room was small—maybe eight feet square, with dark, horizontal wood plank walls and matching wood on the ceiling. A hideous lime green shag carpet, matted and stained, covered the floor. Other than a plain door and one small rectangular window, the walls were bare. A naked bulb hung from the ceiling and was currently off.
Not another piece of shit cabin, he thought, rolling his eyes. A stab of fear. Was it that piece of shit cabin?
From the faint light, he would hazard the time was either early evening or early morning. If it was morning, he was all kinds of screwed when Hudson showed up at his door and no one answered. Just eight hours into this gig and his last chance was already going tits up. Mr. Anderson would have a warrant out for his arrest, and, next stop, the Big House and Big Louie. He patted the pockets of his jeans, but his phone was missing. Rising carefully on unsteady legs, Shaney shuffled to the door. His sneakers and socks were missing as well. Turning the handle, he found the door was locked. With the side of his fist, he banged on the solid door. “Hey, Todd. Open the damn door! Todd! I won’t hurt you—much.” Nothing. “Hey, dickwad, Hudson’s going to be picking me up. Come on, open this door and I may let you live...Todd!”