The creeper on the buildings grew thicker as they approached. The buildings here looked like little more than giant hills of creeper and pinkstink. He felt like he was tracing the vegetation upriver to its source. Was it alien in nature? Or a military experiment gone wrong? He didn’t know. The only thing he knew for sure was how much it stank. It smelled like a giant mountain of burning metal, plastic, and tar.
The creeper was trimmed back in a wide semi-circle around the entrance of the WTF. The giant bonfires framed its massive doors. As the crowd approached, the doors opened, and the parade made its way inside.
Just beyond the bonfires, Karnage saw the emergency generator building. It was adorned with pinkstink garlands. A pair of sombre men stood outside the doors, wearing long dresses and leis made of pinkstink and creeper. They carried what looked like shepherd’s hooks with stylized worms on the ends. Karnage pegged them for priests. A long line of Spragmites were lined up outside the building. As people made it to the front of the line, they would kneel before the priest. The priest would place a hand on their heads, mumble something, hand them a slip of paper, then let them into the generator building. After a few minutes, the person would emerge, and the next would be allowed in.
Karnage decided his best bet to get inside was to get in line and wait his turn. He took a place at the end of the line. The woman in front of him was reading a book. The front cover showed a bluehaired man wearing a bowler hat stroking his chin. The title read, “Awaken The Worm Within.” The woman looked up from her book at Karnage, and smiled.
“Hello,” she said.
Karnage gave her his best imitation of a smile. “Hello.” She cocked her head. “I haven’t seen you here before.”
“Funny. I was thinkin’ the same about you.”
She gave a sheepish grin. “True enough. I mostly come on Arbiter’s Day. I find the line is just too long otherwise. I know we’re supposed to come more often than that, but… well, you won’t tell anyone, will you?”
Karnage winked. “Won’t tell a soul.”
“Thanks.” The woman extended her hand. “I’m Reshmi.”
“John,” Karnage said. He shook her hand.
“How long have you been following The Worm?”
Karnage shrugged. “A while now. You?”
“Only a few months. But it’s really opened my eyes to how things work, you know?” She held up the book. “I used to be so confused about things, but now…”
“It just all kinda falls into place, doesn’t it?”
Reshmi beamed. “Yes! Exactly!”
They were now at the front of the line. Reshmi knelt in front of the priest. The priest placed a hand on her head. “Are you ready to awaken The Worm within, child?”
“I am, Presbyter.”
The priest nodded, and handed her the slip of paper. “Go with Spragmos, child.”
Reshmi winked at Karnage. “See you later.”
Karnage gave her a nod and a smile. Reshmi disappeared inside. The priest gave a disapproving gaze to the swell in Karnage’s crotch. Karnage adjusted the material to hide the bulge of the goober grenade on his belt.
“May The Worm be with you, Prez Bitter,” Karnage said.
“And also with you,” the priest said. He looked ready to say something else, but Reshmi reappeared.
“Fancy seeing you again so soon,” Karnage said.
Reshmi smiled. “I was going to go check out the Finale.” She gestured towards the WTF. “Would you like to join me?”
Karnage smiled. “I wouldn’t miss it.”
“Great!” Reshmi did her best to look unexcited, failing miserably. “I’ll just be waiting out here, then.”
The priest cleared his throat. Karnage took the hint and got on his knees, careful to keep his goober rifle from poking out from the top of his jacket. The priest placed his hand on Karnage’s head. “Are you ready to awaken The Worm within, child?”
“I am, Prez Bitter.”
The priest handed Karnage a slip of paper. “Go with Spragmos, child.”
Karnage stood and winked at Reshmi. “I’ll try not to be too long.” Reshmi did her best not to beam, and Karnage did his best to ignore the priest’s disapproving gaze as he slipped into the generator building, and shut the door.
CHAPTER FOUR
Dried pinkstink and creeper hung from the doorway and ceiling. Karnage pushed through, and found himself in the main generator room. Pinkstink and creeper were stuck to everything. A table sat in the middle of the room, lit with candles. An altar on the table cradled a toolbox wrapped in vines of creeper. A cup of pencils sat in front of the altar. The generators themselves were jampacked with bits of crumpled paper. Karnage pulled out one of the papers and uncrumpled it. A child-like scrawl had written, “Great Spragmos, help me to awaken The Worm within.” He grabbed another one. “Guide me to the True Path.” And another. “Show us The Light.”
You want light? Karnage crumpled the papers into a ball. I’ll show you light.
He tore off his tuxedo jacket and whipped off his dress. He blew out the candles and cleared the table with a sweep of his arm. He jammed the table under the doorknob. Ripping open the toolbox, he found some duct tape and coiled wire. He slapped a goober grenade against the door frame and taped it in place. He looped the wire around the doorknob and tied it to the grenade’s pin. He made sure the wire was taut, then turned his attention to the generators.
Karnage plucked the paper from the turbines. He tried turning the turbine on each generator. They were all seized except one. It turned with much effort and loud groans of complaint.
There was a knock at the door. “Is everything all right in there, child?”
“Everything’s fine, Prez Bitter.” Karnage worked the turbine back and forth until it turned freely. “Just working out what I’m gonna say.”
“Speak from the heart, child.”
“Will do, Prez Bitter!” Karnage grabbed the gas can from the altar. It was still full. He poured it into the generator, hoping these Spragmites knew the value of a good fuel stabilizer. Karnage said a little prayer of his own—“You better work, you dirty monkeyfucker”—and yanked the starter cord.
The engine gave a surprised gasp, belched out a plume of smoke, and promptly died.
The doorknob turned and rattled. The priest called to Karnage through the door. “What’s going on in there, child?”
“Just conferrin’ with Spragmos.” Karnage gave the starter cord another yank. “Work, you sonofabitch!” Another gasp, another belch, another plume of smoke, then once again, death.
The banging on the door grew more urgent and the priest’s shouts grew louder. Karnage ignored them. He pulled again and again on the cord. The engine grew louder and noisier each time. The banging on the door shook the table, threatening to loosen it from under the doorknob. Karnage gave one final yank on the cord, and the generator roared to life.
The room quickly filled with generator exhaust. Something wasn’t venting properly, but Karnage didn’t care. Light poured in through the windows, piercing the smoke in thick prismatic shafts.
The table finally gave way, and the door burst open. A pair of priests stood agape in the room. “What in the name of Spragmos— AAH!” The goober grenade went off. Pink blossoms of goober engulfed the shrieking priests and filled the doorway.
Karnage caught a glimpse of a shepherd’s hook outside the window. It reared back and smashed the glass. Karnage unholstered his goober rifle and fired, filling the frame with fast-hardening goober.
“Warning. Sanity Level upgraded to Citrus Blast. Please—”