Wake and Walkabout
Boris gazed at the human wailing and squirming on the ground.
‘Like a worm,’ he mused. Just like a little fat worm. That’s what these earth creatures reminded him of—what, with no shell, and all soft and fleshy. He held his rumbling abdomen. ‘Not yet,’ he spoke to his stomach as if it were a sentient being.
Boris needed more Wenke cells to take on that particular man’s form. If he ate the poor chap, which for Boris was a very tempting proposition, he’d have to be plain old Boris the Bytrode, and that wouldn’t do at all.
Boris patted his tummy. ‘All in good time.’
He crawled over to Walter and jabbed his neck with his needle finger.
Walter Wenke went limp. His moaning stopped.
The cockroach extended his proboscis and vacuumed it along his arm. ‘Hmmm, tastes so sweet. I do love the taste of fat humans.’
Boris then positioned Walter against the corner sitting him up. ‘Now don’t go waking up on me, you hear?’ He injected more anaesthetic into his victim’s jugular vein. ‘There, that should keep you out of trouble for a couple of days.’
The Bytrode cockroach studied the human. He looked pale. His face had thinned slightly. Boris rolled his eyes. ‘Well, I suppose I better feed you.’ His proboscis emerged from his mouth like a hungry snake in search of adventure. It forced its way into Walter’s mouth, down his throat and into his stomach where it pumped regurgitated chicken and fresh tender Wend. He’d snatched the tiny little Wend that very morning. Someone had to pay for hiding the young man and the girl.
Boris then stood on his hind legs and waited. The cells took effect, morphing him to human—to Walter Wenke.
He dressed himself in the jeans and checked shirt he’d stored in his shell. Then, unlocking the door, he stepped out into the Precinct.
The setting sun peeped through a break in the storm clouds, drenching the gum trees and historic church in blood-red hues.
Boris looked left and right. After he bolted and locked the morgue, he strode through the open gate and to Walter’s house. He entered through the back. The door was never locked.
The policeman, Fleischer and his wife sat at the table in the dining area. The brilliant sunset shone through the window shrouding in scarlet Adam who sat by it. Brumbies flashed past the window as they galloped along the road; a sight missed by Adam who kept on playing his phone game.
‘Well, there you all are.’ Boris announced his arrival.
The three adults snapped their attention to him. Speechless and pale.
They knew something. And Boris didn’t like the something they might know.
In the distance, thunder rumbled.
© Lee-Anne Marie Kling 2017
Photo: Old Machine, Hermannsburg © Lee-Anne Marie Kling 2013