The+Scum

Prologue

A lone figure walks down a broken train track. They are carrying a mud-covered, torn duffel bag. The figure stops at the wreck of twisted metal that used to be a train station. He scratches his scruffy, unkempt beard, and, finding chunks of a cheese-like substance has come off in his fingers, wipes his hand on his dungarees. He is what many call a "hobo", but he calls himself an explorer. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the grime on the walls slide around, towards itself. He turns his head and laughs, knowing it was the twilight's last beams playing tricks on his old, tired eyes. Grime is grime, and nothing more, after all. The explorer squats down by his duffel bag and pulls out a box of matches he recently pickpocketed. scooping some stray wood into a pile, he lights it, forming an angry fire. He frowns, not feeling as much warmth as he usually gets from his fires. after eating a very modest dinner of canned beans, he puts out the fire and falls asleep.

Five hours later, he awakes, but can't seem to feel his left arm. Looking down, he screeches in terror as he sees mold covering his arm. When he sat up, the mold hissed, and began to bubble. A large bubble pops, spraying a bit of rancid-smelling pus into the air. That's when he realized the dark green mold was spreading.

Chapter 1

Jake Barlean was a happy man. He had just stopped a robbery; which was no small feat, but once he pulled his handgun on the fleeing robber, they had awkwardly skidded to a stop, face contorted in terror. "Hey man, y-you can't do that," the perpetrator stammered, dropping the bag of money "Don't worry, I have a concealed carry license," Jim deftly replied, winking at the teenager After the police arrived, he walked off, feeling like a vigilante from the days of old. Smiling to himself, he strolled off, not quite ready to go back to his hotel room. As he wandered, he thought to himself that New York had to be the most unclean city in the world. Dirt, cigarette ashes, dust, gum, mold and other atrocities covered the sidewalk. New York was definetly a place for all types.

Jake was what many might call a "neat freak." Ironically, he was a sanitation worker. He hated dirt, and always carried a backpack with some essential cleaning supplies in it. Scowling at the ground, he put on a pair of rubber gloves, and got in his huge, green trash truck. He made his rounds, using the powerful mechanical arm on the back of the truck to pick up the dumpsters and trash cans, avoiding contact with the trash when he could. Reminded of his childhood when he would play "Infection Tag," he smiled.

Suddenly, a shrill scream ripped through the air, followed by a rough bellow. Whipping his head around, and his hand reaching for his handgun, he saw a lumbering man in all green chasing a teenage girl! And, worse than that, the man's skin appeared to be bubbling, constantly morphing into different shapes! Seeing he was the only one awake in the neighborhood at 3:00, other than the man and the girl, he chased after them as they passed him. "Don't move!" Jake screamed at the man, who promptly swiveled around and lurched towards Barlean. As he turned, Jack could see the worst part about him was his face.

His eyes were two yellow pustules jiggling out of the sockets. They looked ready to burst. A writhing, blackened tongue swirled around his mouth, stringy saliva slowly dripping down its tip. That was all that was recognizable of the man's face, as the rest of his face was just a pulsing mass of white, yellow, and green zits, swollen to the point of clamoring for space on his crammed flesh.

Without hesitation, he shot it in the face. It exploded. Stringy blobs of something that looked like a mix between cream cheese and milk sprayed in every direction. To his horror, he saw that a bit of the stuff had got into the horrified girl's mouth! Gasping, she made a gagging sound and her eyes rolled back in her head. "Are you okay?" he asked the girl "Hwa-aa-aaagh. . ." she replied. "Okay I'm going to look in your mouth and see what's in there," Jake peered in and saw the small glob of white pus that had launched from the man. It appeared to have latched on to her uvula, and looked like it was pulsing. "What the-" "GRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAW......" the girl replied and jerked stiff, so her entire body was like a board. Jake leaped up and ran to a house nearby to get help, unconciously skidding around the litter in the street. Between the trees, through the wet lawn, over the sprinkler. He practically shattered the door with his blows, to get a sleepy man in a set of striped pajamas to slowly open the door, the chain stopping it an eighth of the way open. "Whad-whaddya want?" the man asked, scratching his butt with his large hand. "There's a girl out here, and she may be dying, and there's a man-" Jake just remembered the man he had shot a few minutes before.