Saturday, September 25, 2010

Day Fifty-Five

Day 55: 25 Sep 2010

When I was a kid, my brother and I used to play hide and seek. A lot. More, even, than regular kids.

When you grow up in a house without electricity, you take what entertainment you can get. Playstation just wasn't happening for us.

Anyway, he was small for his age, so he was really, really good at the hiding part of the game. Sometimes, I didn't even find him. Once I found him curled up behind the seat in dad's old 1972 Chevy pickup, wedged into the five inches between the seat and the wall.

He was never too good at the "seeking" part, though. Always got frustrated when he couldn't find me right away and gave up.

That's what I'm counting on now -- that his frustration will at least delay him while he makes his way down the coast to find me.

Of course, seeking is easier when you have a telepathic worm jacked into all your systems. Hiding's harder, because I have one, too.

In case you haven't figured it out yet, hi. I'm Jared Sykes. Up until two days ago, I was making my way up to Vancouver, Canada. Now I'm heading back down the coast, and I know Travis is following me, looking for me for what he thinks are the right reasons.

They're not, incidentally. Travis thinks he knows what he's doing, but he doesn't. He has no clue what's really going on. I do.

It started for me about three months ago, when the slug inside me let me know it was in its final stage. In other words, dying.

My slug and I never bonded the way Travis did with his, and that's the only thing that kept me -- Jared -- alive and mostly intact. The slug and I are radically different, mentally -- so much so that our personalities remained entirely separate, single entities. I'm thankful for this, because it means I have a chance to stop Travis.

Travis thinks he and his slug are working together. That he has some control, that he and the slug have become one being. But Travis' logical, ordered mind has become his handicap. It has allowed the slug to pull the wool over his eyes, to make him think he and Travis are working together for a common purpose.

They're not. The slug is firmly in control, so deep inside Travis' mind that he can make Travis believe anything he chooses to. Make him believe that the slug isn't in control, that Travis is making all of the decisions himself. It's a lie, and a dangerous one.

In my case, I've been gaining more and more control over the past three months. Before that, I was a passenger in my own body. I was unable to control much of anything, only able to watch as the slug carried out the orders of his so-called saviors. Now. . .

My slug realizes what's coming. Who's coming. He's been aware of Travis' slug since a Russian fishing boat caught it a month ago. He. . . knows the slug. Can sense its thoughts. And those thoughts. . . well, let's just say they're not philanthropic in nature.

My plan is to get back to Las Vegas. With my slug weakening daily, I'll need help -- and my slug knows where to get it.

So he tells me, anyway.

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