A Merciless Afternoon

The North American Brain Slug can theoretically attach anywhere along the spine, but prefers placement across cervical vertebrae C4-C6. As part of the host conversion process, the brain slug releases a mild nerve agent that removes pain response in the area as the brain slug's foot dissolves into an acid that dissolves the host's skin, allowing the slug to directly access the spinal cord and cardiovascular system, and rendering the brain slug forever immobile. This initial period of attachment takes only seconds, although brain slug and host continue to integrate biologically continually. Once the process of attachment has begun, the brain slug cannot survive on its own. No host has survived the **** or removal of a brain slug. They become, for most purposes, a single organism.
—National Geographic Field Guide to Extraterrestrial Species of North America, Chapter 1

She didn't like brain slugs. That much was obvious.

The pregnant Black woman who came in for milk and coffee while her Toyota Pulsar was charging was a regular. Mel had seen her three times, twice when he was working the counter, and each time she always came to him, even if one of his brain slug host coworkers was free. Her brown eyes tensed when she looked at his fellow co-workers, always looking at neck-level. She avoided being in the same aisle as the brain slug hosts when they were using the swifter, too. Mel watched her head to the bathroom, only to physically recoil and cradle her swollen stomach protectively as Soong stepped out, hands freshly washed and dried.

Mel was beginning to recognize the regulars. Not always by name, but by sight and behavior. A broad-shouldered Iranian immigrant with Navy tattoos didn't drive, but this was the closest store to his apartment and he came in every other day for "just one thing" and always walked out with three things. A young blonde woman with fine scars around her eyes that suggested ocular implants for vision issues. Folks who lived nearby, or came this way often, and stepped inside a well-lighted place that had clean bathrooms and multiple slushie flavors.

From what Ha-Yoon had said, the night shift regulars were weirder. Mel was ready to believe that.

For a while, as Mel stood behind the counter, not serving anyone, he wondered at Amelia's obvious discomfort versus how comfortable he felt. The brain slug hosts should have been off-putting. Well, more off-putting. Yet while their behavior could still surprise him—Mel remembered the relief when Jordan had dressed for work this morning, taking her clothes out of her drawers and putting them on right there in the living room—just hanging out with his coworkers at the Cosmic Fill-Up wasn't bad.

They were quiet.

"Excuse me? Human guy?"

The voice came from the direction of the restrooms. Mel could see down the corridor through a carefully-placed mirror hanging from the ceiling. Amelia had popped her head out of the door to the family restroom. Mel leaned over the counter to meet her eyes.

"Yes, ma'am?" he said, automatically.

"I'm, um. I need more toilet paper," she said. Then added, voice low and uncomfortable: "I'm not really comfortable around them."

Mel blinked. Soong was running the swifter over the floor not five feet from her. Head down, eyes on her work.

"Of course, ma'am, just a sec."

Blair, who was working the counter next to him, didn't even glance at him as Mel exited the little island safe zone for employees behind the counter. Ha-Yoon had given him the code for the supply closet this morning. He popped inside, grabbed two rolls of the tissue—a recycled paper so thin that Mel was pretty sure he could have read the National Graphic Field Guide to Extraterrestrial Species of North America through it, even the tiny font on the footnotes—and handed them to the pregnant woman. Who was, he noticed, about his own age.

"Thanks," Amelia said. "And please don't call me ma'am. Makes me feel old. I'm Amelia."

"Mel," he said. "Though I also answer to 'human guy.'"

Amelia gave him a brief smile. The door shut. The lock clicked. The little indicator went from AVAILABLE to OCCUPIED.

Mel resumed his place behind the counter. Blair still stared straight ahead, but the brain slug on the back of her neck shifted its head toward him. The two little antennae or nubs on its head seemed to swell and stretch a little. The Field Guide called them sensory tentacles and claimed they included optical spots, vibration sensors, chemosensors, and even some sort of electromagnetic perception.

Jordan had held hands with Blair this morning. He wondered what she had told the other brain slugs about last night.

Amelia emerged from the bathroom. Mel noticed that her left hand rested on her stomach. She looked like she was smuggling a basketball, so he assumed she was fairly far along. He watched as she carefully sidestepped Soong to make herself a coffee-to-go and grabbed a liter carton of organic oat milk.

"Thanks, Mel," she said, and gave him a little smile. Ha-Yoon and Jordan, who had been changing out the receipt paper at the pumps, held the door for her. Amelia eyed Jordan warily as she squeezed past.

Ha-Yoon waited until they were both inside and Amelia safely out of earshot before she said:

"Hitting on the customers, red shirt?"

"What? No!" Mel felt the instant panic seize him, eyes on Jordan for any sign of reaction.

"She asked for some toilet paper—"

"Uh-huh," Ha-Yoon grinned savagely, enjoying the drawn-out tease. "A likely story. Did she ask you to come in there with her? Wet the baby's head?"

Mel's face contorted in ways he could feel but not control. He glanced at Jordan, who stared back, face placid as ever.

"Come on, it wasn't like that, just ask—" he gestured at Blair, and then at Soong. Neither of them even looked at him. Mel's shoulders slumped in defeat. "It really was nothing."

Ha-Yoon gave a barking laugh.

"Oh, I believe you, red shirt. Your V-card probably hasn't been punched yet. Waiting for the right girl, eh? Or boy?" Ha-Yoon's smile turned contemplative. "I could see you going for the right dick...unless you're already completely whipped by slug pussy."

It was a merciless afternoon. Yet one thing happened at the end of the shift that almost made Mel forget about the incident with Amelia. When they came in, Jordan and Soong signed in first, and then Mel. Signing out followed the same pattern: Jordan, Soong, and then Mel last. Normally, the brain slug hosts would stand there and wait, but this time Jordan went among the aisles. By the time he finished, she was at the counter, Blair checking her out and dropping her purchases in a small plastic bag.

Mel froze as he saw what it was.

Jordan had bought the February issue of Slug Fucker Monthly...and a pack of condoms.