2
It is the end of the day at the Glass Workshop and Johnny Davies locks his office for the day.
His secretary sees him going. "Goodnight, Mr. Davies"
"See ya', Ashley."
Johnny walks across the workshop toward the door. He sees a crowd of workers lounging around a glass-cutting table, laughing at something.
Some of them nod at Johnny, and he nods back. But he's completely outside their circle.
.
.
The Davies house is a sizable two-story suburban home. All the lights are off but one. Rhiannon and Johnny eat dinner in this well-decorated room. As Johnny chatters, she occasionally smiles politely at him.
"So, I get home today, phone's ringing. It's Hank Wilcox." Johnny says conversationally like it is no big deal.
"Hmmm."
"Callin' for you. What the hell?" he suddenly stops to glare at her across the table "I said, 'Hank, that's a little bit outta line don't 'cha think, a single man callin' someone's wife?' At night, nonetheless."
Rhiannon is quiet, almost afraid "He's teaching environmental science, Johnny. Probably wants to borrow my lesson plans from last semester. Remember, me and Ianto took our two classes on that field trip down the marshes?"
"Oh yeah, that's what he wants to borrow, this guy."
"It's just a work thing." She tries to smile but shows fear in his glare.
"Work thing hell, Rhia. He just wants to get in your pussy. Him and most these other ones around here. That's where their minds is at, them sick fucks." Johnny takes a big bite of food, stuffing his mouth. "I'll tell you, sugarplum, you're lucky you got me. You're too damn trusting. Without me to protect you, you'd get kilt one of these days. Tell him to ask Ianto, even if he does have a poofta stick up his arse!"
Rhiannon nods.
.
.
Rhiannon stares at herself in the mirror as she brushes her hair. She uses long, slow strokes, as if stalling.
"Sugarplum, you coming into bed?"
She turns toward the door. She doesn't say anything for a moment. "Just a second."
She sets her brush down on the counter. She arranges it neatly beside the others. And walks into the bedroom.
Johnny turns off the TV as Rhiannon gets into bed with him. It's almost completely dark in here.
Johnny crawls on top of Rhiannon. He kisses her and grabs her in a way not meant to be rough but is utterly without grace.
After doing this for a few moments, Rhiannon starts to push him off her. "Johnny, no - I'm sorry, I'm just … I'm not in the mood."
Johnny is on top of her, breathing a little too heavy. "Come on, baby, it's …"
"I'm sorry. I don't just have some switch."
"Sure you do." Through Rhiannon's nightgown, Johnny pretends to flick one
of her nipples. "Flip."
Then the other. "Flip."
"That's disrespectful." She pushes at him with annoyance.
Peeved, Johnny gets off her. He sits on the edge of the bed for a moment, in silence. Rhiannon looks afraid. "When are you in the mood, exactly? Seems to me that mood's as rare as winning the Goddamn lotto."
Johnny grabs his slacks off the chair and starts putting them on.
"Where are you going?"
"I'm just some big clown to you, aren't I?" he puffs from the exertion of pulling them up.
"That's not true … Where are you…?"
"Out."
.
.
Johnny sits at the Torchwood Arms bar, knocking back a shot of tequila.
He's getting drunk. He taps his glass. "Hit me again there, killer."
The barkeep fills his drink.
Johnny notices a woman with a lot of makeup – Mary Gutierrez - staring at him from across the bar, smoking a cigarette. Johnny stares at her, trying to figure out who she is. She slides off her stool.
She sashays toward him. She props herself on the stool beside him, leans drunkenly in toward him. She drawls "Megan Halesy's little sister."
"Shit. You're kidding me."
"Nope."
"Mary!" Johnny exclaims with delight.
"Hell, you were…" Johnny holds his hand only so high.
She laughs "I was! And I'll tell you somethin', Johnny Davis. I's in love with you."
Johnny stares at her.
"My sister Megan, she's a big fat cow. Was then, even more so now. I'd be thinking, what'd you see in her ain't in me?" she asks.
"Shit, girl, you couldn't'a been eleven." He splutters with amusement.
"Hell, I was game!" She laughs.
So does Johnny. He stares at her, contemplating sinful things. He nods at her wedding ring. "Who's the lucky fella?"
"Fuck lucky. Never marry a damn half-Mexican."
"Already ain't. Married a gal named …"
"Ianto Jones's sister Rhiannon. Don't be ignorant. Everyone knows that. Fucking prom queen." She snorts, sneering with annoyance.
"Yeah."
Johnny finishes his drink, and gets up to go.
"Where you goin'?" she asks with surprise.
Johnny speaks more loudly than need be "Rhiannon, she gets real worried 'bout me I stay out too late. Loves me too much, that one."
He glances around to see if people have heard and stumbles out.
.
.
Johnny sits on a boulder beside a creek, looking miserable, downing a six pack.
He throws an empty can into the creek, when he glances down and sees particles flowing down the river.
Johnny slides off the boulder. He kneels and examines the particles. They shimmer in the moonbeams coming down between the trees.
Johnny peers up the creek from where the particles are coming.
He sees a gap on the edge of the creek, where water splashes and is diverted in streamlets down the hill.
He approaches the spot, and comes upon a small crater on the side of the creek. The meteorite is inside the crater, but it's cracked into pieces. The rock seems almost organic, like a shell. The shimmery specks are part of the shell itself, flecking off into the creek and rushing downstream.
Johnny crouches. He touches the meteorite, and feels some sort of goo inside it. It's sticky.
He notices a strip of the same slime leading out of the crater itself and into the woods.
Johnny, curiously, slowly, follows the slimy trail.
He comes to a flurry of colourful wildflowers. Something is rustling the flowers ever so slightly. He moves in closer.
A gelatinous yellow organism slithers sluggishly between the flowers. The organism is a mound a few inches high, gross and veiny, yet as colorful as the flowers around it. A small cavity on the apex of the organism constricts and expands lightly. I guess it's not worth keeping secret that this thing looks a tad like a bright yellow vagina.
"What the…?" Johnny is a little freaked-out by this thing, even frightened. He looks around for someone else. "Hey, anybody 'round here? 'Lo?"
No one answers. Johnny looks down at the organism, unsure.
He picks up a tree branch.
Johnny softly prods the organism with the pointy end of the branch.
Nothing happens.
He does it again. The thing pulses a little, and surges toward Johnny.
Johnny pokes it again.
A small, thin quill … a spore … emerges from the cavity in the center of the organism. The spore is quivering and, as it trembles upward, little bulbed spurs pop up as well.
Johnny slowly bends down to look at it when … The SPORE suddenly SHOOTS OUT. It strikes Johnny in the stomach.
"Ow! Fuck!"
Johnny yanks up his shirt, looking at a wound on his abdomen. He watches as the spore quivers and disappears inside him.
He clutches his stomach, screams in agony. He falls back Into the colourful flowers. His body convulses.
Inside of Johnny's body, the little spore, is jittering up through his body, and into his neck. The spore keys into the base of Johnny's cerebellum, and his entire brain crackles with a WHITE ELECTRICAL ENERGY. Johnny freezes in place, his fingers contorted up in front of him, silent. He's utterly still, a wax corpse.
A hippie camping couple run into the area, looking for the source of the screams. The man looks down at the frozen Johnny.
"Over here!"
The Camper crouches down beside him. "Hey, man. You all right?... Dude?... Oh shit."
The Camper turns from Johnny to his girlfriend. I think he's d …"
Johnny GASPS suddenly, sitting up and grabbing the man, like a drowning man popping up above water. The Camper yelps and jumps back.
Johnny sweats and heaves, trying to speak, but hardly can "It's taking... my... brain."
"Buddy?"
Johnny's eyes glaze over, and he eases off. He sits there, momentarily confused. His eyes dart around, as if seeing his surroundings for the first time. Johnny stands.
"You all right, man?"
Johnny looks down curiously at the camper. Then he turns and stumbles away from them, out of the forest.
"That might of been a stroke, buddy. You better take it easy." The camper calls after him with concern."
Johnny keeps staggering away like he is on a mission.
Of course… he is.