TICKS
by
David Lapage Jr.
It was the biggest tick he had ever seen.
The tick sat on a dead tree about twelve feet from him. John stared at it in amazement. He had no idea they got so big. The back of the tick was about the size of a basketball. Its eight legs were as long as a yardstick. Five of the legs were gripping the tree truck, while the other three waved in the air in front of it.
John shook off his rucksack and fumbled about for his phone to take a picture of the tick. The kids in his class would be excited to see the size of this thing. His hand landed on the can of OFF that he had, and he decided to spray himself again. He had covered himself in bug spray when he started his hike four hours ago but now seemed like a good time to freshen it up. Better safe than sorry.
He started to spray his chest and noticed that the tick was no longer on the dead tree. It had moved towards him about a foot and was sitting on the ground in front of the tree. John took a step back almost without noticing it.
He finished spraying his arms and legs and reached for his pack. He saw that the tick was slowly moving in his direction and decided that it would be best to leave. He had a long hike back to his jeep and then a two-hour drive home.
Since school was out, John had decided to do some hiking since the weather was good. Summer vacation was a definite perk of being a teacher and John was not about to let it go to waste. He had driven his jeep up English mountain and spent the day exploring the woods. He had wandered off trail a few hours back but wasn’t too worried about it since he had his Garmin with him.
He grabbed his pack and slung it over his shoulder. The tick had continued its slow motion forward and was now about eight feet away. Its mouth (or whatever a tick had) looked wet. Whether from saliva or dew on the grass, John didn’t know. He did know that it gave him the creeps and he was leaving now.
As he turned to go, something heavy landed on his upper back, knocking him to the ground. John let out a yelp of shock. His pack fell from this arm as his chest hit the ground. He reached back with one arm and felt something round and slightly squishy. It was another tick. He tried to knock it off his back, but the legs of the thing gripped him tightly.
He flipped over onto his back hard and felt the tick burst under his weight. Wet yellowish-pink fluid splashed between him and the ground. The tick stopped moving and its grip around John released. He placed one hand in the sticky goo and sat up. Sitting in the muddy mess with his legs out in front of him, he could see that the first tick was now only three feet from his right foot. Its forward legs reaching out toward him.
There was a rustle of leaves above him and John looked up just in time to see a tick falling before it slammed into his face. Its legs wrapped around his head and the warm belly of the tick pressed tightly against John’s face. There was a smell of rotten meat mixed with moss and earth. John gagged as he grabbed the tick with both hands to pull it off. The bug held on tightly as John tugged it away a few inches, only to slip and have the belly slap back against his nose and mouth.
John pulled once more with everything he had, and the creature’s legs slipped over his head. He held it at arm’s length for a moment. The tick was squirming, and its beak moved in and out like a knife blade. John threw it away.
He looked at his feet and saw the original tick on his right leg. The tick had torn through his pants and buried its beak in John’s calf. He hadn’t felt it stab into him. John tried to kick it away, only to discover that he could not move his leg. He tried the left one and although it flicked a little it remained mostly still.
John felt an odd tingle through his body and his arms seemed to be relaxing on their own. He was paralyzed. Whatever that thing had injected him with was making his body unresponsive. He could think clearly but his body was not moving at all.
John fell over onto his side. His cheek was lying in the dirt and grass. He could see more ticks moving toward him. Their mouthparts wet and gleaming in the afternoon sun. They moved slowly and all John could do was wait as he listened to the leaves rustle in the breeze and the slurping sound at his feet.
I should have been a doctor, he thought.
The End