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  • Writer's pictureJeff Bacon


The hissing of the blow torch filled the cooler as I kept the bottom of the door red hot. I ran into the cooler, thinking I would be safe. Not realizing the bottom seal was bad. I could smell the burned carcasses as they tried to get in.

It started in the dining room. The slugs came up the sink drain and attached to a waitress. The more blood they extracted, the bigger they grew. A cop tried to help her. He pulled one slug off her body; it flopped on to his face. He tripped and fell to the ground as a dozen more slugs attached themselves to him.

The customers that froze at their tables were easy pickings for the slugs. I ran into the kitchen and saw the cooler door open with an acetylene torch inside. I thought this was good luck. I slammed the door shut. The light didn’t work, so I went to the igniter and lit the torch. I saw a smaller slug wiggling under the door. I put the torch flame on it and watched it melt.

I continued to heat the steel threshold and burn anything that wiggled through. I looked over at the torch gauges. The tanks were almost empty. I continued to kill as many as I could until the torch died. I stepped back in the cooler until my back was against the wall. The threshold cooled, the sound of slimy slugs squeezing under the door filled the room. I felt the first one slide up my leg. I tried to pull it off, but then there was a second, and third, so many slugs. I fell to the ground as one attached to my nostrils and another crawled in my mouth. I was dizzy and couldn’t breathe. The pain of my skin ripping only surpassed by the burning in my lungs. I slipped into death with the sounds of my body being devoured.

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