Larvae

By Dan H Kind

When Prince escapes from the backyard during a 4th of July party, Wade and Maggie Mitchell figure the beloved family dog will be back after he has his fun romping about the woods. And after the party breaks up, Prince does return. Wheezing, whimpering. Twitching, convulsing. Foaming greenish goop from pulsating jowls. And there are...things...moving underneath the dog's skin.

Maggie hustles the kids upstairs while Wade frantically searches the Internet for clues as to what illness the dog has contracted. And then hell straight out of a creature-feature erupts in the Mitchells' once-idyllic household. Will Wade and Maggie be able to get the children out of the house safely...or will the worms devour them all?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dan H Kind
• Release date: Feb 14, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476393186

Dan H Kind

Dan H. Kind writes irreverent fantasy fiction and the occasional horror. He lives in the colonial capital of America with his lovely wife, beautiful daughters, a beagle with allergy issues, and a crazy dachshund puppy. He appreciates well-cooked tofu, but don't send him any.

Book preview

The dog threw up again.

Greenish puke with things floating in it.

Wriggling, whitish things.

Wade didn't know what else to do. He'd called around to all the veterinary clinics and animal hospitals in town, and every last one of them was closed. He'd even tried Prince's vet's home phone number. No answer, but he left a garbled message on the man's voicemail and dropped a rambling email into his office inbox. So far there had been no response, which meant neither message was likely to be received before tomorrow morning.

At this point there was nothing else he could do.

His dog was going to die on Independence Day.

Happy fucking birthday, America, thought Wade.

This year he and the family had decided to skip the annual fireworks in town and throw a party at home, inviting over relatives, friends, and neighbors. When the soiree was in full swing, with everybody scarfing hot dogs and drinking beer and socializing, Prince crept out the gate in the backyard fence, which some festive individual left wide open on their way in or out to smoke a joint in the woods, or whatever it may have been.

Wade and the cookout guests searched the family's property for hours, calling and whistling and offering treats. But Prince didn't show.

Wade and Maggie reassured the distraught children that Prince was fine, that the pooch would be back after he had his fun romping about the woods, that everything was fine.

But it turned out that was a lie.

Prince stumbled back home after the party broke up, well after the sun went down, and scared the living, breathing shit out of the kids.

Strands of milky saliva dripped from the dog's mouth. Lolling tongue covered in a weird-looking greenish glaze. Throat distended and throbbing like a singing bullfrog's.

Maggie hustled the kids off to bed three seconds after the dog returned home sick. But Alona and Jeffrey glimpsed enough to give them nightmares for weeks.

The dog had gotten into something he shouldn't have, and now Prince lay dying.

Wheezing, whimpering. Twitching, convulsing. Foaming translucent greenish goop from his pulsating jowls, all over the living room carpet.

Brand new white living room carpet, which Wade had argued against for the very reason that it would be impossible to keep clean with two kids and a dog in the house.

Told you so, Mags, thought Wade with a decidedly giddy edge. He almost giggled, but managed to hold it in. This was no time to get hysterical. His eyes watered as he stared at the computer screen, seeing nothing through blurry slits. He blinked rapidly to clear his vision. He had to figure out what was wrong with Prince, and do whatever he could for the dog until morning when the local vet clinics and animal hospitals would reopen.

But the acrid stench wafting over from the dog—like oranges left roasting in the summer sun for days—was giving him a migraine, and he couldn't seem to think straight. Sure, he was a fiction writer, and thought up horrific scenarios like this for a living, but the real thing happening in his own living room was well beyond his ability to deal with.

Prince, a rare white-haired German Shepherd, was a great dog. He loved the children, suffering all sorts of improprieties at their hands and various implements wielded by