Free Squelch by John Halkin Page B

on her left leg now not far from her crotch – and she realised dimly through that excruciating pain that it was not her usual trouble, not this time, but something quite different, as if sharp-toothed ferrets had got under her skirt. Twisting with pain, she fell off the bench, yelling and cursing with all her might as she thrashed about on the grass and tried desperately to end the torment.
    It did ease momentarily, long enough for her to get a grip on herself. She pulled up her skirt, now bloodstained, and let out a shriek of terror. Two long, hairy green caterpillars were on her legs: one busily burrowing into her inner thigh which was now almost numb, its tail end shifting backwards and forwards as it fed; the othergradually rippling upwards towards her groin, leaving a wet smear of blood behind it.
    Her
blood.
    But she saw everything in a paralysing slow motion. Get rid of them, her mind insisted urgently; you’ve only to reach out, take hold of them, fling them away: but she couldn’t. Her own dark blood was trickling over her skin, but she could do nothing. She stared as though hypnotised at that second caterpillar which had now almost reached its destination.
    ‘Help me!’ Her voice quavered weakly. ‘Help!’
    The men were running towards her, she could hear them. They had been mentioning caterpillars earlier. Killed a boy, wasn’t that it? Killed someone? But they were too late. All too late. She almost welcomed that stab of pain in her groin when it came, knowing the sooner these green caterpillars had their way, the sooner it would all be over. On that tree above her, on those fresh young leaves, that’s where they were. She was screaming uncontrollably, she could hear herself, when one dropped down on her face, inserting itself into her wide open mouth.
    ‘Bloody hell!
    Men bending over her: that had been so much part of her life, feeding the insatiable hunger between her legs. Her own private curse, even now when men no longer wanted her. Oh God she couldn’t breathe. She was choking. Dying. Was this it? Was this how it happened?
    Let me breathe… please… oh let up for a moment, love, just so as I can breathe…
    A hot knife burned in her throat, the most savage pain she’d known yet. No screams now though, however much she wanted to. Just that red-hot, jagged knife, and the drumming in her ears ever louder.
    ‘Get that bloody thing out of her mouth!’ Harry Smithwas roaring. He elbowed his way past, sending Charlie reeling against the overturned table. ‘Here, let me, for Chrissake!’
    Charlie didn’t argue. Already dead, wasn’t she? Her body lay twisted unnaturally on the grass with fat green caterpillars – six at least – gorging themselves on her. Jesus, he thought he’d seen a few things in the army, but nothing like this. Turning away, he spewed his guts out over the bench where she’d been happily sitting only a couple of minutes ago.
    ‘All right, Lizzie,’ he could hear Harry Smith’s voice behind him. ‘It’s all right, love. I’ll get it. Easy does it now. You’re going to be all right.’
    Was she hell, Charlie thought.
    He looked back to find Harry Smith on his knees beside her, slowly drawing the caterpillar out of her mouth. There must have been a couple of inches down her throat at least, judging from the length of it. The cavalry twill slicker stood just behind him, watching with interest, obviously unmoved, though Harry Smith himself sounded unusually tender when he spoke. Not that Liz Kinley would ever hear him again.
    ‘Harry, she’s dead,’ Charlie tried to tell him as gently as he could.
    ‘Who says so?’ Harry Smith’s face, flushing even redder than normal, peered up at him angrily. ‘You go an’ ring the fuckin’ ambulance instead o’ standin’ there like a prick. I’ll give her mouth-to-mouth. Let’s hope to God it works.’
    ‘Be careful they don’t get you while you’re at it!’
    In her agonising death throes, Liz had ended up directly