Chapter 2

The next morning, Pamela knocked on her daughter’s door. “You up, Hon?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t be late. You know that gets you in trouble at work.”

“I know.”

The younger woman only emerged from her bedroom when Pamela was half way into making breakfast. “That’s smells good.”

“Don’t think you’ll get salmon and eggs for breakfast every time you sleep in.”

“No.”

Pamela noticed her daughter scratching her crotch as she walked. She stopped scratching when she sat at the table.

“Feeling itchy?”

Adeline shrugged. “A little. It’s okay.”

They ate and talked about a television movie the daughter had watched the night before. “It was real scary with rats!”

“You know scary movies give you nightmares.”

“It didn’t last night. My new friend keeps me safe.”

“I’m glad you like her.” Pamela had skipped waiting for a bus, to skip into a shop and buy the stuffed opossum two days earlier. It was worth being a little late for work. Her boss wasn’t a dick about such things, unless it kept happening. She smiled at her daughter.

“After the movie, I was afraid of her, at first, but she just stared at me until I thought she was silly.” The imagination of a mind like Adeline’s wasn’t as rich as a child’s, but it did not lack for creativity.

“I told you it wasn’t a rat.” (well, mouse)

“Oh, no, Momma. She’s not.” She dug into her food, and they finished their meal without rushing, chatting occasionally. Adeline wasn’t a chatty person. Her mother was thinking about her night of employment ahead.

Together they cleaned up the table and washed the dishes. Pamela remembered to empty their compost basket in the apartment’s downstairs bin. Adeline retreated to her room. A couple hours later, Pamela stepped off of the bus in the city’s stinkiest industrial district.

Army jacket man wasn’t at the stop. A worker in jeans and a dark shirt was. She waited for Pamela to leave the steps, before boarding.

Pamela walked confidently to the “Show Her” club. The homeless man had acted reasonably in the face of those scary large bugs, but her mind associated him with their danger. She chided herself for judging the man on his looks and the strange situation irrelevant of him.

The first roach struck after a block of walking. It smacked seemingly blindly into her shoulder. Growing buzzes alerted her to the coming swarm. She looked for an alcove to duck into but the streets were lined with fences sporting razor on top or outward curved spikes. There wasn’t even a guard booth at an entrance. She ran covering her eyes with an arm, watching the sidewalk to keep her direction.

Twelve bugs bounced off her jacket and pants before she reached the second street. Again, no hiding places! When the bulk of the swarm struck, she dropped to her knees and curled up trying to protect the front of her body.

They were everywhere, diving through gaps or crawling across every inch of her body. She began sobbing, terrified, impotent, eyes shut tightly. They smelled ghastly. The deep, resounding, collective buzzing rattled her nervous system. She screamed when claw after claw scrambled across her face! One darted into her mouth. She choked but coughed the horror out and clamped her lips, chest heaving with sobs. They were climbing into her clothes!

Pamela’s self-preservation kicked in, preventing her from losing conscious and surrendering to the swam. Blindly she stuck her hand into her purse and felt for a small bottle. Gripping tightly and pulling it out, she flicked off the protective top and pressed. Pepper spray fanned out in all directions as she swept her arm around!

The reaction was instantaneous. A hundred roaches launched from her collapsed body! They returned to the swarm just as the cloud’s core buzzed furiously past. Several of them, struck squarely with the stream of capsaicin, died flailing on cement and asphalt. She kept spraying until it emptied, her clothes ruined, her face and eyes burning. Even shut, the powerful irritant had seeped in. She continued sobbing, but her heart took some relief. Bugs remained which acted immune to the spray but only a few. She brushed away the ones she could feel.

The cloud of roaches was down to a few impacts per minute. Her mistake was to jump up and resume running. Adrenalin roared through her senses, but the abrupt lurch to her feet, drained blood from her brain. She collapsed back to the sidewalk.

Someone was riffling through her clothes. She gasped and woke up, swinging her fists.

Army Jacket Guy ducked away. A crushed roach fell from his filthy right hand. “I’m sorry!!”

For long seconds, Pamela didn’t know where she was. She sensed movement, chitinous claws treading clothes which stung her skin. They were unbuttoned and unzipped! Her mind collected itself back to something of a panic. “I’m calling the cops!” She felt around for her purse which was no longer on her.

She looked around but didn’t recognize her surroundings. It was a fenced yard. Concrete weights lay in ordered rows and columns. She lay between four of them. The man ducked behind one.

When a bug, the size of pill bottle, emerged on Pamela’s bare belly, she shrieked and knocked it off! Its wings shot open, and it flew upwards. She felt frantically around for others, hands sweeping through her clothes. This was what the man had been doing - at least for starters.

“You gotta say it, Lady, or I won’t help you.” Army Jacket man huddled nervously behind the huge cube of cement.

“Help me!” Pamela tugged off her jacket and blouse simultaneously. She wore a sturdy, black bra. Behind her white blouse, customers could imagine her tits available for fantasies about her. She wrestled with pulling her slacks off of her butt, discovering that she should have unbuckled her red sandal, high heels.

“Lean forward. There’s one on your back.”

“AAUGGGHH!!” Pamela yelled, not terrified anymore but strongly disgusted. She felt the man pry the bug from her spine. She found one in her left pant leg and ripped it out, hurling the bug as far as she could. She heard its wings flutter and fade.