Ssssperm!

Something shot from the water, splattered on her legs, and slide its way up into her.

Megan squealed, flapped her arms like a penguin, and fell from the toilet. Her head cracked like a nut as it crashed against the side of the marble sink counter. Megan went down in a pool of blood and semen.

***

Dr. Gamache felt like each footstep was a clamoring, crashing explosion of sound that would clue everyone in earshot that an intruder was in the building. Not that Gamache was really an intruder, or that anyone would go so far as to question his presence in the building. If anyone was going to be there at this time of night, it was most likely to be him or Kaspar.

Still, Gamache assumed it was in his best interest to remain unseen.

He squinted down a hallway and licked his lips. Why had Kaspar sent him on this errand? He could barely see two feet ahead of him, especially in the dark. As if fate had read his mind, Gamache tripped over an overturned gurney and smacked against the hard, cold tile of the corridor floor.

He'd tried to stop his fall with his hands, and now his wrists throbbed with a burning pain. His palms felt hot and red. Gamache groaned, pulled himself up to a sitting position and flexed his hands. At least, he'd found a gurney.

"Goodness, goodness," Gamache whimpered, hating the way his voice sounded as it echoed through the halls.

"Quincy?"

Gamache froze, every cell in his body petrified with fear. His ears perked like a curious dog's after hearing the familiar chirp of a bird or the twitter of a squirrel. Gamache listened with every frightened fiber of his being.

"Quincy?" the voice called again, and this time, Gamache recognized the voice. His fear melted away to concern.

"Nancy?" he said.

A shadow appeared at the opening of a door. The white nurse's uniform was tainted gray by the darkness. The rest of Nancy was obscured by the absence of color. The dark draped her in veils of black.

"Darling, thank God," Nancy said. "I got lost. I... I... feel so.... horrrny."

She stepped from the shadows, and Gamache felt the horror rise in his chest and catch in his throat. He opened his mouth, but no sound came.

Nancy's eyes were milky-white, and tears of creamy goop dripped from their corners. Her skin looked bluish-gray, the skin of something that had been dead for some time. Something like milk gurgled from her lips.

Gamache gawked, his mouth dropping open, his lips forming unspoken prayers, as the dribbling liquid from her eyes and mouth squirmed as if alive.

"Fuck me, doctor, fuck me!" the Nancy-thing cried, and she staggered out of the room with open arms, a child hungry for attention.

Gamache shrieked and crabbed away on his hands and feet. Gaining momentum, he pushed himself up and sprinted away with form that would put Michael Johnson to shame, golden shoes and all.

***

Rosalind found an empty space in the parking garage and pulled in the Jaguar. It had been her anniversary present from Kaspar last year. How he planned on topping that if they ever managed to get married, Rosalind had no clue, but she looked forward to the attempt.

The garage was eerily quiet as Rosalind exited the vehicle, the dim lighting not helping the unease that began to work its way into her unconscious mind. Shadows and cars and empty space, devoid of all human life but her. She smoothed her skirt with her hands and began to make her way to the elevators.

She'd decided at the apartment that she was not going to wait on Jerry any longer. She wanted to drive to the medical university, walk up to Quincy Gamache, and tell him to lay off her boyfriend for one goddamned night because she needed to get laid, goddammit! Of course, she might not use those words exactly, but more or less, that would be the gist of it.

As she ran over the potential argument in her mind, she didn't see the panicked man approaching her. She pushed the elevator call button, still lost to everything but her own thoughts. Rosalind looked up just to see the wild man as he reached out and grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her.

"Get away!" the man cried. "They're turning! Everywhere! They're turning the women into fucking zombies!"

Rosalind managed to get the Mace out of her purse and sprayed the asshole right in the face. He went flailing backwards and bashed into a large, concrete pillar.

The elevator door slid open, and Rosalind dashed inside of it, hitting the door-close buttons with manic intensity. As the doors reversed, sliding mercifully closed, Rosalind's cell phone chimed her favorite whiny Emo-song.

"Yes?" Rosalind said, flipping the cell phone open on her ear.

"Rosie, it's Ben!"

"Ben? What's wrong?" Rosalind didn't like the tremor in her brother-in-law's voice.

"Caroline, something's wrong with Caroline!"

Rosalind said nothing. She knew that her sister had been fooling around at work every day for the last month with the new intern. Ben must have found out and was pissed. Well, he had every right to be, but she'd back up Caroline. Sisters had to stick together, right?

"She came home," Ben barked into the phone. "She was raving about how the new guy at work had been covered in something, she said, well, hell, she said he had come out of the bathroom all covered in cum and he attacked her and... fuck, Rosie, she's all fucked up!"

***

Dr. Gamache cut a sharp corner and thrust his way into a doorway, slamming the door shut behind him. His breaths came in ragged, harsh gasps. He closed his eyes and focused on slowing his racing heart. He drew in long breaths, held them for a moment, and then blew them out with a low, hushing sound.

"I knew you'd find me, baby," the thing said as it stepped from the darkness of the room and closed a hand over Gamache's crotch. Gamache opened his eyes and looked straight into the lusty glare of the thing that had once been Nancy Wilkes.

Dr. Quincy Gamache whimpered and pissed his pants.

Her mouth closed over his, and Gamache squirmed as he tasted the salty bitterness of her lips. The thing's hand worked its way into his moist pants, and despite himself, Gamache found to his horror that the expert manipulation of the Nancy-thing's hand was hardening his penis. Something in his mind broke. Electric synapses sparked, sputtered, misfired.

Nancy's breasts brushed against his chest. Her tongue writhed against his. If Gamache closed his eyes, it was her. It was Nancy, not the thing. Nancy had never died; she couldn't be dead. The dead didn't walk and lust and stroke your cock.

God, it felt so good.

Gamache found himself kissing Nancy back.

He pushed her down to the floor and tore open her shirt and licked her nipples. Nancy moaned with pleasure and rubbed her pelvis against his crotch. Gamache felt sore and hard and wanted to impale her here, on the floor, right now.

Gamache pulled down his trousers and felt her legs wrap around him, welcoming him, her kisses hard and desperate, Gamache's cock the same, and then he thrust forward and entered her.

It felt like prodding a bowl of oatmeal, but Gamache's mind was so gone, he didn't even hear the Nancy-thing say, "Yes, yes, fertilize me with your seed."

***

"Something very fucked up is going on," Rosalind said.

The weird part was the fact that she didn't seem to be referring to the body at Dr. Kaspar's feet. Kaspar ran his hands through his hair, resisting the urge to pull it out by the roots. He felt the world whirl and threaten to come crashing down on him, on his work, and on civilization as he knew it.

"Ben said that the guy, the guy Caroline's been fooling around with, got all covered with... semen. And then he attacked her, and now she's sick. Very sick," Rosalind said, and she didn't seem to be pulling his leg or playing a prank.

Dr. Kaspar thought about what Quincy had said, particularly the part about Nancy's ex-boyfriend being covered with the living, squirming semen. The semen that had disappeared sometime between the time that Quincy had seen it and the time he had taken to call Kaspar to the hospital. The two stories seemed to fit all too well.

"Ok, ok," Dr. Kaspar said. "The first thing we need to do is find Quincy. Then we're going to incinerate this body. Then we'll go check on Caroline and Ben."

"Jerry! This is my SISTER!" Rosalind cried through gnashed teeth. A vein in her neck pulsated under the skin. She was losing it. Kaspar wished Rosalind would lose it more like Gamache, quietly and pitifully. But attractive women were more used to getting their way, he supposed.

"We have to take care of this first. Then we can help your sister," he said. "So help me, so I can help you."

Rosalind caved. Her mental state, between the man in the garage and the news about her sister, was too weak to work up a stronger argument.

"Fine," she said, but Kaspar could tell she was not happy with the decision. She'd have to get over it. For one time in his life, Kaspar resisted giving in to Rosalind. After all, he couldn't fuck her if he ended up in jail.

They made their way into the deserted hall, looking left and right into empty doors and down empty halls. Kaspar walked a step behind Rosalind, unable but to sneak a peek at the way her bottom moved beneath the fabric of her skirt. She had worn it to urge him back to the apartment, he knew, and in any other circumstance, it would have worked. All the same, it was doing its job- he couldn't keep his eyes off her.

A familiar reek began to work its way into Kaspar's nostrils, the same ammonia-smell that had wafted off the corpse in the laboratory. Kaspar put a hand on Rosalind's shoulder, stopping her. She turned to look at him.

"We're close," he said.

"How do you know?"

Kaspar shrugged and said, "Follow your nose."

They followed the scent, and Kaspar began to hear squishy, smacking noises echoing through the darkness. It sounded like someone jumping in a mud pit. He stopped Rosalind with his hand, placing a palm on her sternum, and shook his head. He didn't know what he'd see, but he knew he didn't want Rosalind following and seeing whatever the hell it was.

"Stay here. I'll be right back," he said and treaded towards the sounds. The sounds increased in volume as he approached, and Kaspar felt his resolve begin to crumble. He stopped, closed his eyes, and steeled himself. He opened his eyes and flexed his hands.

Then he turned to the doorway from which the sounds seemed to emanate. He stretched his neck, craning his head past the frame and into the depths of the room.

Kaspar's eyes went wide, and his hand went to cover his mouth, stifling a sharp cry.

Gamache, covered in wriggling, squirming sperm, convulsed on top of what must have been Nancy Wilkes. He looked like an oozing, broken condom. He moaned, and sperm bubbled from his mouth and splashed on Nancy's bare stomach. The living sperm squiggled away, snaking down into Nancy's belly button, her open mouth, into the corners of her eyes.

The gooey, dripping form of Gamache turned towards the door, and something inside of it must have recognized its friend because it gurgled, "Help... me."

Horribly, each word was punctuated with drools of sperm from the thing's mouth.

"Jesus," Kaspar whispered, wishing in vain he had been a man of faith. Maybe then he could pray for help.

The sperm must have heard him... impossible, sperm didn't have ears... or maybe it sensed him because white, whipping lines of slime began to slide across the floor towards Dr. Kaspar.

He didn't wait to see what would happen next. Jerome Kaspar turned and ran. He almost steamrolled over Rosalind, but instead, he swerved around her, grabbed her wrist and yanked her after him.

"Don't look! Run!" he ordered, and their legs became blurs as they raced down the halls.

"JERRY!" Rosalind screamed and pointed down the hall. Something staggered out of a stairwell and collapsed to its knees. The thing- it looked like a female O.R. surgeon- caught sight of them and vomited a splatter of sperm.

The sperm bubbled. Then it writhed down the tile floor towards them.

"It's fucking everywhere!"

Kaspar spun into the laboratory, dragging Rosalind behind him. He pushed her farther into the room and then slammed the door shut. He swung around, his head twisting from side-to-side.

"Find something to close the cracks with," he said in a breathless voice. Rosalind reached into her purse, pulled out a roll of duct tape and tossed it to him.

"Here!" she cried.

Kaspar paused. "You keep this in your purse?"

"Just tape that shit shut!" Rosalind shrieked. Kaspar wheeled around and ran the duct tape along the floor, taping the gape between the bottom of the door and floor closed. Then he taped up the sides, just in case the sperm could ooze up the walls.

"Are we safe?" Rosalind asked. Hot tears streaked the sides of her face, but she seemed to have it together. Kaspar was proud of her. Most people, whether male or female, would have probably lost their composure as soon as they saw that.... thing... barf up living splooge all over the place. Kaspar decided to play it honest.

"I don't know."

Rosalind's upper lip quivered. Kaspar wondered if he'd made a mistake. Maybe he should have just said "yes" and been done with it. But Rosalind nodded, swept her hair into a stern ponytail and tied it, then crossed her arms over her chest. Kaspar recognized her expression- all business.

Dr. Kaspar made his way to the bank of computers lined up at one side of the laboratory. They looked back at him, the stupid stare of blank screens. Kaspar ran his fingers across one of the keyboards. He licked his lips. His mind raced.

Something started banging against the door.

"Give me your fertile seed!" a gurgling voice cried.

"That's MY seed, so back the fuck off!" Rosalind yelled in reply.

Kaspar powered up the computers. An electric hum rumbled through the lab as if the room, itself, had come to life, a sleeping giant starting to wake. Rosalind turned from the banging on the door, her attention captured by Kaspar's lightening-quick typing on the keyboards. She crossed the room with quick, quiet steps on the tips of her feet.

"You've thought of something," she said at his arm.

Dr. Kaspar kept his gaze on the computer screens and said, "Don't get your hopes up."

"But?"

"But making sperm infertile is much easier than making it fertile. If we can take our hyperactive super-sperm and reverse its characteristics, so it's super-LAZY-sperm then maybe we can stop it," Dr. Kaspar said, his fingers working the keyboards as if they had minds of their own. They tap-danced orders into the computer at a pace that Rosalind could not coherently follow.

"There's so much of that stuff. How can we stop it all?" Rosalind said.

"This machine could theoretically eat up the entire power of two blocks if not for the safeguards. I'll just shut down the safeguards. Let's just hope it hasn't spread much farther than a block or two from the hospital," Kaspar said.

The door of the laboratory splintered. The thing behind it bellowed its frustration.

"This won't kill us, will it?" Rosalind said.

"No, there just won't be a generation on babies for anyone located on this block in about ten minutes."

The door shuttered, and a lightening-bolt crack snaked through the wood.

"Make it five minutes," Rosalind muttered. Sperm began to ooze through the crack. Rosalind tugged at Kaspar's sleeve, pointed, and groaned. Kaspar nodded at a fire extinguisher under the adjacent desk.

"Freeze the fucker," he said. He didn't stop typing.

Rosalind popped the extinguisher out of its placement and sprinted towards the growing pool of white ooze at the lab door. She pointed the hose, and let it spray.

The sperm shuddered backwards. In her mind, Rosalind imagined it screaming. Some of it receded through the crack, but more of it came on towards her. Rosalind stepped back, but didn't let up on the spray. The sperm slowed, twitched, and froze to the floor.

"Please, fuck me," the thing behind the door moaned.

"Yeah, fuck YOU!" Rosalind shouted. Her face was flushed, and she felt almost as high as she did during sex, adrenaline pumping through her veins.

Kaspar stopped typing and asked, "You ok?"

"Never been better."

"Well, here's going nothing," Dr. Kaspar said and flipped the switch above the computers.

"Let's hope it's something," Rosalind whispered, and then the world turned into a blaze of white light.

***

They walked out of the university hospital into the glowing orange light of the morning sun. Dr. Jerome Kaspar put his hand on his brow, shielding his eyes from the glare. The building at their backs, they looked down the intersection at the bodies littering the streets. Dead men and dead women. The bodies rose from the asphalt, human hills of cold dead flesh.

"What have I done?" Kaspar said. His knees felt wobbly, weak.

"It's not your fault," Rosalind said, wrapping an arm around his waist. She put her head on his shoulder, snuggling up against him, offering her support. Her strawberry-blonde hair glimmered like orange-red fire.

"You saved us," she said. "You saved everyone."

Kaspar's eyes roved across the bodies again, and something about them bothered him. Something snagged his unconscious.

"Maybe not," he croaked. Rosalind looked up at him, her eyebrows raised.

"The women," he said.

Rosalind turned and searched the bodies with her eyes, sweeping her gaze over the bodies of the women on the street. They didn't appear odd, just motionless, just dead, and then she noticed... noticed the round, swollen bellies of the sperm-infested bodies, and as she watched, Rosalind saw something in one of the stomachs move.

"They're all pregnant."

~the end~