Squelch by John Halkin Page B

teeth, she held on despite the fact that she felt nauseated by what she was doing. Her stomach churned sickeningly and she could feel the clammy sweat lying cold on her skin.
    Unexpectedly, the caterpillar burst under the pressure, like a fat green sausage grown too tight for itself. The rear end of that hairy body came away in her hand.
    ‘Urgh!’
    She almost did throw up as she saw the green sap ooze out. It spread over the torn magazine page, coating the eye of an exotic, raven-haired girl modelling underwear. Some got on to Ginny’s fingers, leaving a sticky smear when she attempted – almost hysterically – to wipe it off.
    But there was no time to stop and think about it. The old, tough Ginny took control. Lesley needed help urgently. She was lying on the grass, hardly moving, though an unnatural, high-pitched mumble came from her parted lips.
That’s how she’ll look when she’s dead!
The thought flashed through Ginny’s mind.
Oh please God don’t let her die!
    Her hands shook as she fumbled at the ankle straps of Lesley’s sandals. Though it probably took less than a minute to get the first knot untied, it seemed like hours. At last she was able to tug the sandal clear. The sole of her sister’s foot was a mess of blood and raw flesh with theremains of that hideous caterpillar buried in it. She dashed into the kitchen for the first-aid box, to get some sort of dressing on the foot to staunch the blood before dragging her into the car and going for help.
    If only she had a phone, at least she could ring someone, but they still hadn’t come to install it.
    That wound looked such a mess, she felt quite helpless when she saw it. She fished in it with the tweezers and somehow managed to remove the rest of the caterpillar although there were probably still fragments sticking inside. Then she pressed a generous pad of lint on the foot, sticking it down with Band-Aid. As she straightened up, wondering how she could manage to get Lesley to the car, she saw a second caterpillar.
    She gasped.
    It was emerging out of the grass and beginning to creep on to Lesley’s freckled arm near her shoulder, its body rippling as it climbed. The same kind, too: long, emerald green hairs, and that little horn-like bulge on its tail. Its yellow stripe became momentarily visible when it reared up to survey the soft hill of flesh on which it found itself.
    Oh, Jesus… What should she do?
    Ginny grabbed Lesley’s sandal and knocked the caterpillar away. It landed on the rug –
her
rug – next to the magazines and her sunglasses. Still clutching the sandal, she scrambled over and brought it down hard on the caterpillar which twisted under the impact, then curled up, then uncurled again, and was definitely still very much alive.
    Desperately she hammered at it, bringing that sandal down again and again, but she could swear it was having no effect. The more she hit it, the more menacing that caterpillar seemed to become. At last, steeling herself, she placed the sandal carefully on top of it, then pressed down with her full weight until she felt the sudden
Squelch!
as she squashed it to death.
    Its sticky, green body fluid spread over the sandal, dissolving and mingling with the dull brown stain left by her sister’s blood.
    That whole afternoon was a nightmare, not least the problem of moving Lesley to a place where she could be looked after. Ginny prayed that Bernie would be at home, not out on his rounds. It would take her no more than three minutes to drive to his surgery, whereas the hospital was fifteen miles away. Lesley could even die before she got there.
    She was just conscious, but in a delirium. Her eyes moved wildly though it seemed they saw nothing; her lips scarcely even trembled as she muttered a stream of words which had neither shape nor meaning.
    ‘I’ll have to try and lift you,’ Ginny told her, bending down to take hold of her arm. Vaguely she remembered the fireman’s lift one of her actors had been taught