Spores by Ian Woodhead

than Miles. He had his head buried in what looked like a romance novel. Miles guessed his age to be around nineteen, he was a big lad, his shoulders and arms were huge. It was muscle created by hard, strenuous labour, not gym work.
    The boy slammed the book shut and ran his forefinger down the spine. “Look at what I’ve done,” he exclaimed.
    Miles thought the boy was talking to him until he noticed the boy’s eyes were gazing at the bookcase to the side of Miles.
    “They’ll never be able to sell this now.”
    Miles coughed. The boy screamed and dropped the book on the floor.
    “Sorry,” said Miles. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” He picked the book off the floor and handed it back to the boy. “If it helps, I don’t think anybody would want to buy it anyway.”
    “You shouldn’t be so dismissive,” he replied. “I’m Alistair, by the way.”
    It hadn’t taken the boy long to regain his composure.
    “These silly love stories are really popular, granted, with me being twenty five, I really should be reading war stories or horror books.” Alistair sighed; he opened the book and flicked through the pages. “It’s weird, really. Until all this happened, I was never interested in reading. My deity of pleasure was the soaps on telly.”
    Miles glanced behind him, there was still no sign of those things. He wondered if he ought to leave this guy here and make tracks before those creatures returned. He had no intention of overstaying his welcome. Miles suddenly wondered how this kid had managed to evade the creatures.
    “Look, I’m sorry, I can’t stay. Do you want to come with me?”
    The lad shook his head, “No, sorry I can’t. I’m Alistair by the way. Oh, I’m sorry, I’ve already told you that. I don’t suppose you have any food do you? I can’t remember the last time I ate something…” Alistair furtively glanced around the store. “Something normal.” He whispered.
    Miles shook his head.
    “Oh, that’s a shame. Well is there any chance of you passing me that really thick hardback by your right hand? That should keep me going for at least a week.”
    Miles jumped when something under his table moved. He took a couple of steps forward and crouched down, “what the fuck is that?” he exclaimed.
    Alistair let out a bitter laugh. “I bet it looks really gross now. I stopped looking a few days ago.”
    Thick, black cords of what appeared to be creeper vine had burst through the floor tiles and entwined around both Alistair’s legs and the legs of the table; upon closer inspection, Miles saw hundreds of needle-like spines pushed into the boy’s skin. Around each spine the flesh looked rotten, leprous. Miles turned away and stood up. He felt gorge rising up. What the hell was it? It reminded him of an insect caught in a carnivorous plant.
    “Oh, yeah that,” replied Alistair. “This is mother’s way of punishing me. I put bleach in her tea. I also put wee in and loads of other stuff too. I was supposed to look after her when she was bed-ridden.”
    Miles yelped as the two creatures brushed past him, Jesus, he hadn’t even heard them approach. They took no notice of Miles and jumped on the table. He watched gob smacked as the large creature hopped across the surface, purring.
    Alistair turned to Miles, “Best you don’t watch this. It’s pretty gross.”
    It grabbed Alistair’s face and pulled his mouth down. The creature’s jaw yawned wide and a thick, wet, green pipe slid out and pushed into Alistair’s mouth. Miles watched a bulge appear in the pipe that flowed along the length before stopping at the boy’s mouth. The boy swallowed. It didn’t take him long to realise what was happening, that grotesque thing was feeding the boy like a mother starling fed its chick. By the look of terror and pleading showing in Alistair’s eyes, he wasn’t a willing participant.
    After three more bulges, the creature withdrew its feeder and dropped into Alistair’s lap. Miles could hear