Cocoon

By Larry Schowalter

Shortly after the Earth passes through the tail of a comet, people and animals begin to change into alien creatures. Two brave teens, Katelyn and Ethan are among the few humans left. They are forced to fight for survival against all the changes that are forced upon them. As the familiar becomes strange, they must battle for their lives, as all that they knew is turned upside-down in a strange new world.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Larry Schowalter
• Release date: Feb 29, 2016
• ISBN: 9781524269746

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

The metal rings schliked along the rod as I slid the curtain open to peer into the room. A familiar odor, the smell of beer-infused farts and stale tobacco smoke wafted from an unruly mess of a room. Mounds of empty bottles, pants, shirts, and even underwear dotted the small bedroom. Sprawled face-up on the sagging mattress, snoring like a buzz-saw, was her once-handsome dad. Who could believe that he had been a high school football hero twenty years ago? My father had returned the final kick of the championship game. Now, he had difficulty walking 110 yards, never-mind running them.

I whispered, Dad, I’m heading out to the bus now.

There was no movement.

Dad, a little louder.

A slight stir from the mass below the tangled white blankets, and a frog croak, Take out the garbage on your way out and don’t slam the door.

Sighing in resignation, I walked past the crooked mirror on the kitchen wall. I thought that I didn’t look too bad, especially after staying up late writing a paper for Social. My long brown hair was tied in a neat ponytail and my face was okay, even though I had no makeup. I straightened the mirror and grabbed my homework and the bag of garbage, then headed out. I opened the door hoping that it wouldn’t be noisy, but there was no stopping the screech of unoiled hinges as it closed behind me. I sure hope he didn’t hear that, I thought as I tossed the trash on the growing pile of green ripped plastic bags next to the trailer. Hopefully Dad can get the truck fixed and take this junk to the dump soon, I muttered. A tangle of fast-food bags and other discarded junk competed with weeds for space in our tiny yard. Ravens and coyotes made the mess even worse as they picked through the garbage looking for tasty morsels. Smaller chunks of plastic and paper swirled like colourful starlings in the late April breezes.

I wondered how long it would take Dad to get things together. Things were great when there was lots of work on the rigs, but when the price of oil plunged, he was laid off and couldn’t find work. That had been almost four years ago, when she had been thirteen. What little cash he had was gone pretty quickly. He began to drink more than usual and pretty soon his nice toys were gone – the boat, pickup, trailer, bike, quad, and sled, all sold cheap. That brought in just enough cash to buy food, pay the rent, and buy booze. The credit card debts piled up and the bill collectors called daily, at least until the phone line was cut. Mom left a year ago, packing up one night and leaving while my father and I were downtown at a pawn shop, trying to hock her prized DSLR camera.

Shambling down the gravel road, I tried without success to stem the flow of tears streaming down my cheeks. At least I don’t have mascara to smear; there’s no money for that or anything else. I wiped tears with my sweater sleeve and attempted to put on a brave face when I spotted my best friend Janine striding down the road with her usual enthusiastic bounce. Today was her pink day. She wore her favourite pink outfit, pink sweatpants, pink runners, and a pink hoodie. As tall as she was, she was quite the sight.

Are you wearing pink undies too? I shouted.

Of course! Ready for another awesome day at school? she yelled back.

I’m sure that she rolled her green eyes as she said it. Janine wasn’t a big fan of school even though she was really smart.

We met at the bus stop across from the elementary school and she gave me her usual big hug. Maybe we won’t have to work too hard this morning. Mr. Bigelow probably stayed up late last night, at least late for an old guy, watching that big comet he’s been talking about. This time I could really see the exaggerated roll of her eyes. Last night was supposed to be the closest that it gets to Earth. Oops, now I sound like him, she snickered.

Mr. Bigelow was our Science teacher, and he could go on and on about outer space and technology stuff. Remember how much he talked about the lunar eclipse earlier this year?

I know, and half the class including me, almost fell asleep!

I’m so tired today. I might fall asleep in block one. Maybe you can keep asking questions and he’ll ignore me when I zonk out. I smiled at the thought.

Yeah, like I’m the smart one in Science? Social Studies is more my thing. Maybe Ethan will do it; he’s really into the science stuff. Why don’t you ask him? asked Janine, giving me a knowing grin.

Hot flames licked up my cheeks. Thinking about Ethan often did that, even though he doesn’t even look at me.

I was about to reply when I felt something cold and wet pushing against my hand. I screamed and jumped a bit. Rex, I exclaimed. I realized that it was just Mrs. Kulak’s dog, stretched to the limit of his leash. Rex was a beautiful golden lab. The big oaf was as friendly as a teddy bear and always happy to see me. Once upon a time I used to carry a treat for him, but lately there had been barely enough food for her and her father, let alone a neighbour’s dog.

Sorry boy, nothing for you today. Maybe tomorrow.

Rex just positioned his head so I could scratch behind his ears. The tension in my body began to drain away as I rubbed the sweet spot. He made soft grunting noises of approval. It didn’t bother me much when the long yellow school bus entered the trailer park to take us down the highway for what promised to be a sleepy day at Stony Grove High.

CHAPTER TWO

O kay guys, how many of you stayed up late to watch the closest approach of the comet last night? It was incredible! The tail was so long that it stretched across most of the sky. I hauled the school telescope out of the science lab and set it up on the school grounds. It’s too bad that none of you joined me, but I know it was pretty late when it was dark enough. The sky was clear and the moon is in its final phase. Mr. Bigelow was off to his predictable start, and as tired as I was, this was a good day for it.

Mr. Bigelow, why would any of us care about a stupid comet? yawned a voice from the back of the class. It was Connor, the one guy that most of us tried to avoid. I had heard rumours that he sold drugs and was into some other sketchy stuff. We’ve got better things to do, he snickered.

I’m sure you do, but from the number of hands up, it looks like most of your fellow students are interested. And, I wish you wouldn’t yawn; you know it’s contagious. Mr. Bigelow also yawned, and soon the whole class played it up with a chorus of yawns.

Mr. Bigelow?

Yes, Ethan.

On the radio this morning, the newscaster said that this comet won’t be back for thousands of years. Is that true?

That’s true. It is called a long-period comet; boys, quit your snickering. Its orbit goes way out to the Oort Cloud in an elliptical path before heading back, pulled in by the gravity of the sun. There are thousands of icy objects in the Cloud and the current theory is that these objects date from the formation of our solar system. Are there any other questions?

The news also said that the Earth went through the tail of the comet last night. Won’t that hurt us in some way?

Hmm, that’s a really good question Janine, and we really should move on to chemistry, but it’s worth discussing for a few minutes.

Janine tossed me a triumphant glance as Mr. Bigelow started droning on about the history of comets. I was interested, but tired. Soon my head began to nod and I drifted away to somewhere else.

... so even though some people in 1910 believed that going through the tail of Halley’s Comet meant the end of the world, and some believed that a comet brought the Black Death in the 1300s, there is no evidence of this. Miss Robertson, are you with us?

Uhm, I’m okay, just resting my eyes. Everyone knew that you didn’t want to get caught falling asleep in Mr. Bigelow’s class. He was known for being hard on kids that goofed off.

Why don’t you sit in the hall for awhile. Perhaps the early morning sun is too much for your sensitive eyes? And Katelyn, leave your electronic devices with me, if you have any, Mr. Bigelow said, followed by a big grin.

More phony yawns followed me out to the carrel desk in the hall. Since I had nothing to work on, I folded my arms on the cool surface, put my head down, and promptly fell into a much needed sleep.

I was flying, soaring slowly, weaving between strange trees, trees with leaves painted in a mosaic of colours – pink, orange, blue, and yellow. Long vines, looking more like gigantic snakes, reached from the heights of treetops. The sky was a deep purple. Flying beside me were multitudes of alien creatures. Some were large and others were tiny. Each had long trailing tails, and wide wings running from the neck to the base of the tail. One, turning its insect-like head toward me seemed to smile, until its mouth widened into a huge fanged maw. It reached toward me with gleaming talons and screamed.

I sat up startled, my heart pounding so hard that I thought it was going to leap from my chest. Wow, that was quite the disturbing nightmare. I pulled a couple of deep breaths and felt more refreshed than before. My heart quieted to it’s a normal beat. I looked around, puzzled. Something wasn’t right. The school was silent, too silent. The usual hum of activities was missing - no talking, no music, nothing but the usual whirr of the ventilation system. It was dark and silent. In my active imagination, I was inside an ancient tomb.

I stood up shivering, stretched stiff limbs, and searched for activity down the hall. Nothing moved, but a couple of shapes sprawled on the linoleum. Open felt pens lay scattered on large sheets of poster paper covered with partially completed drawings. They were both sound asleep. I walked toward dark exit doors at the end of the hall, cringing at the thought of Mr. Bigelow discovering that I had moved away from the carrel. Closer to the double doors, I could see no reason for the darkness. A storm wasn’t blowing. There was just an almost-dark punctuated by distant streetlights and the occasional glow from house lights. The sky was mostly clear. I could see stars and a tiny sliver of the crescent moon. It’s night. How could that be? It was block one when Mr. Bigelow sent me out, maybe 9:30 in the morning. It doesn’t get dark until around nine in the evening at this time of the year.

I ran back to Mr. Bigelow’s classroom and peered through the small window in the closed door. There was no sign of the teacher, but I could see lots of students with their heads on their desks. They all appeared to be sleeping. What the hell; is everyone having a nap around here?

After taking a few calming breaths, I pushed the door open and walked into dead silence. Most students were asleep at their desks, but a few lounged uncomfortably on the dusty tile floor. Mr. Bigelow lay sprawled on his desk from the chest up. Half of his face pillowed on his laptop. Drool dripped between the keys. Brown stains soaked stacks of paper from a toppled mug of coffee. I shook his shoulder, not sure whether to laugh or cry. He didn’t respond. I pulled on his chair and splat, he did a face plant on the floor as the chair rolled back. Oh crap! I hope I didn’t hurt him, I thought, as I covered my face in shock. I felt a wetness. I tried to jerk my hands away from my cheeks, but it was like pulling on molasses. I looked at my hands. They were attached to my cheeks by long strands of dripping slime. Faint handprints, outlined by mushy cloth, stenciled the areas that I had touched. The prints twisted like small, colourful worms. All of his clothing began shimmering and shifting, like thousands of tiny fuzzy caterpillars dancing to a silent beat.

I took an involuntary step back. A desk scraped against the floor, and before I could spin around, something strong grabbed my arm. Ahhhh, I screamed.

Katelyn?

Ethan? After steadying my thumping heart once again, I looked up at him. His dark curls were sweat-plastered to his forehead. He gave me a weak smile.

You almost made me wet my pants, Katelyn. I just woke up from this crazy dream and saw you standing there ... Whoa, is that Mr. Bigelow? Is he okay?

Ethan, something real crazy is going on. Look at Mr. Bigelow, and, — it’s dark outside, and everyone here except you and me are sleeping. I gasped for a breath. Janine - I need to check on Janine! I ran to her desk only to find her asleep and in the same state as the teacher. The two of us checked everybody, and all were in identical condition.

Look at this Katelyn. Mr. Bigelow is bald, or was bald, but his head; it’s covered with thick white hair, and it’s wriggling around like his clothing.

I was starting to feel panicky and began to shake. Rivers of sweat ran down my body. I think we need help. The two of us raced down mostly empty halls toward the office, seeing only the sleeping artists and a few boys laying prone outside of a washroom. In the office, the same horrors. Everyone, secretaries, the vice principal, and a couple of teachers were sound asleep, their clothes writhing.

Ethan, I’m going to look in the principal’s office while you call 911.

I eased the door open. Ms. Hudgins reclined in her executive chair, eyes closed, mouth gaping wide, as if catching flies. Tendrils of thick white hair sprouted on her face, not just like a guy’s whiskers, but everywhere, even on her forehead and nose. They looked like wet threads.

Katelyn, Ethan called, There’s no answer at 911. Any other suggestions?

Try your house, then where your parents work. We don’t have a phone at our place anymore.

Ethan punched each number with a shaky finger, and waited for someone to answer. I just get recordings or it keeps ringing.

I’ll try using Ms. Hudgins’s phone. Look online and find the direct numbers for the hospital, police, and fire department, and I’ll try to contact someone at Town Hall and the other schools.

Reviews for Cocoon

[larryschowalter · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

It was fast paced and action filled. A great read.