Free Breeding Ground by Sarah Pinborough

help me I was, when from behind him, from where slick sucking sounds drifted towards me, one milky, translucent leg, thin and sharply jointed, came over his side, wrapping round him like a lover, and I froze. I stared at the shiny footless limb in disgust, as another crept over the man, and then another until four held his limp body in place, one at his shoulders, then his waist, his knees and his feet. What the fuck was it? Jesus Christ, just what the fuck was it? And what the fuck was it doing to him?
    Looking over his shoulder, I could make out the smooth, curved edges of the creature’s body pulsing behind him, completely inhuman, like some awful pale insect, huge and mutated.
    “Help me… pleeasse…”
    The desperate, dying man croaked out the words, a dribble of blood escaping from his thin anguished lips, and I couldn’t imagine his agony. I couldn’t see past my own fear, as the legs contracted tighter around him, pulling the prey closer, and the awful round body rose up slightly as if to investigate the distraction, its milky white surface shining like mother of pearl, as for a moment the sucking stopped.
    “Pleaasee …”
    I moaned as I felt it look at me, really look at me, from its rank of almost invisible eyes, their raised bump surfaces glistening with the same sickly colour as the rest of its body, each standing out only by the pinpoint of bright red at its centre. I knew in that moment, as it locked me in its gaze, that it was feeding on him, feeding on him while he was still alive, and the primeval fear at the core of me told me that this
     
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    terrible huge spider thing was enjoying his pain. That it understood what it was doing.
    I think there’s something else growing inside me. A new kind of baby.
    I remembered how Chloe had been when I’d left her, her body jolting and jerking on the sofa, something moving under her clothes, something pushing its way out of her, and staring at this monster in front of me, I let the scream that had been welling up inside of me out, let it rip free, and it released my own frozen limbs.
    I didn’t stay. I didn’t help. I didn’t even put the man out of his misery and save him from being eaten alive with a swift stab to the throat, which I think is the help he was asking for. No. I turned and fled down the stairs and through the kitchen, banging my thigh hard on a low shelf but not even pausing in recognition of the pain, my own scream echoing after me even as my shoes beat on the cobbles of the courtyard outside, during every second of my flight expecting to feel that thing touching me, catching me. Devouring me.
    For the second time that day I ran in pure terror, my tired legs burning beneath me, but this time I didn’t know where to go, where there was left to go. I came to a stop in the centre of the small roundabout at the corner of High Street and Wolverton Road, of all places, swinging round frantically, knife waving from side to side, raging in preparation for the attacking monster I was sure was behind me.
    There was nothing. Just the empty streets and pavements. I spun in circles, checking over and over that I was alone, until finally my heart rate slowed down to somewhere near normal, my blood cooling slightly. But just slightly.
     
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    Only a couple of hours ago I was looking at my home like it was a ghost town. Now as I warily gazed up at the windows that looked down impassively, I realised I’d been a galaxy away from the truth. Stony Stratford was teeming with life. A new kind of life. It was a breeding ground for it.
     
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Chapter Six
    I think it was the music that kept me sane. It started about ten minutes after my escape from the cafe, as I sat in the bus shelter alongside The Plough, my back pressed against the metal, my eyes watchful, letting it waft gently over me for an hour or so until I realised that I really had no choice but to follow it.
    Standing up, I stared for a few more seconds in the direction of St. Swythen’s