Chapter 3
The first day or so after Method had set up shop in Jess’s body, she kind of feels like she’s dying. Like, dying of hunger, but also just plain getting sick and dying. She eats every granola bar she has stashed away in her shitty rented room, every cracker and chip, even the bag of chocolate chips she had stashed away to make cookies with when it was her turn to cook. She managed to lock herself in her room for the better part of the day, trying to ride out the fever. The night before seemed like a shitty nightmare. Wouldn’t be the first time she’d gotten, like, drugged. She’s got chills, her guts are in revolt, and the room is too bright despite the fact that she’s got the lights off and the curtains drawn. She hasn’t felt this awful since the one and only time she decided to try whatever fuckin’ party drugs her friends at the time were passing around and woke up in a stranger’s house.
Actually, that stranger ended up being Jason.
…Thinking about Jason makes her want to throw up even more than she already does.
I may not know much about your kind or your culture, but that sounds like a series of bad decisions.
Jess flinches. The voice is inside her mind, and it feels exposing. Like one of those dreams she used to have about showing up to school and realizing she wasn’t wearing clothes. “I don’t need input from the peanut gallery,” she mutters aloud, “It’s my life, not yours.”
Our life, now.
She picks herself up, gathers her favorite bathrobe and towel, and trudges to the bathroom because she feels sweaty and gross, and a cold shower usually helps with a fever. Probably. She runs the water, sheds her clothes onto the bath mat and stares at the stream of water hitting the back wall of the shower vacantly. She can feel the other thing in her body watching, curious. “I’d like a little privacy, please.”
I am inside your mind as well as your body. Privacy is a notion that does not apply here.
“Awesome, just what I always wanted.” She stepped into the tub and stood in the stream of water, hitting her face first. The water is freezing, stopping her breathing for a moment, and she stays like that until she goes from overheated to shivering, which takes longer than she is expecting, and thankfully the voice of Method stays quiet.
She avoids looking in the mirror when she gets out, but in the corner of her eye she thinks maybe the reflection is the wrong color.
–
So once everyone is relaxed enough to not try to kill each other, and the symbiotes have gone from full manifest to variations on floating heads and tentacles, Jess sits in the back of the van and Eddie stands awkwardly in front of her, you know, like a loser who just got tossed on his ass. Now that he’s seeing inside the van, he knows that she is definitely living out of this van. There’s an extra-long twin mattress set against the driver’s side wall with a pile of those colorful zarape blankets, and there’s a space-themed tapestry pinned to the ceiling with thumbtacks. There’s a solid stock of chocolate in a milk crate behind the passenger seat, too, so they’ve clearly figured out that trick.
There’s a painfully awkward silence. “So, I guess you were right about that Life Foundation business,” Jess ventures, like that’s not the least of the things that need talked about here. “Method tells me that you busted your alien out.”
“WE WOULD NOT HAVE SURVIVED WITHOUT BOTH OF US,” Venom declares.
Eddie shrugs, “More like, I would have gotten my ass caught if he didn’t climb a really, really tall tree super fast.”
Method projects their head in a similar way that Venom does. The face is less angular, the teeth less prominent, the grin less aggressive. Milder. And blue, but with the same white, severe patches that pass for eyes. Eddie can’t help but notice the tendrils wrapped around Jess’s midsection like a belt, and he resists the sudden urge to ask Venom why he doesn’t hug him like that.
Jess scrunches up her face, sizing Eddie up again, then Venom. “You guys hungry?” She asks, and pulls some vaguely bar-shaped packages and tosses them to Eddie. One of them is a bar of chocolate that is both incredibly dark and reasonably priced, the other is one of those chewy granola bars with tiny chocolate chips in them. He unwraps the granola bar for himself, while Venom gently snatches the chocolate from his hands and consumes it, wrapper and all.
“You never did have any manners, Venom.” Method’s voice is a lot less shouty than Venom’s, Eddie notices, and more neutral, but no less gravelly.
Eddie gestures with the granola bar in Jess’s direction, “Thanks. I feel like I should have brought coffee or something.”
Jess shrugs, “We probably would have smashed it.” She pats the tendrils around her waist. “And anyway, I’m not really a coffee person.”
“YES, WE HEAR YOU ARE MORE OF A PHENYLETHYLAMINE PERSON.”
“Jesus, Vee,” Eddie nudges the thick tendril projecting Venom’s face. “He’s not that far off base, though. You’ve been bringing a lot of heat, cops are looking for you.”
Jess shifts uncomfortably. Eddie doesn’t catch, but Venom does, and he sees the tendrils move and tighten. Then Venom smells the pheromones in the air, and suddenly he gets it. Meanwhile, all Eddie catches from his mental state is amusement. “Honestly, I feel like we’re doing the city a favor. The last guy we ate put roofies in my drink, and I barely got to enjoy it.”
“He was so easy,” Method almost purrs, “So overconfident. Right up until the end.”
Eddie is suddenly reminded that these are definitely aliens that enjoy eating people.
THAT IS WHAT WE DO, EDDIE. WE DO THE SAME THING.
He doesn’t bother to pretend they aren’t talking to each other privately, and gives Venom the most withering look he can muster, “It’s not like you’re using me as bait.”
“Jess is not bait. It’s hardly our fault if someone decides to try to take advantage of us. There are far too many assholes to be found in alcoholic establishments.”
“Then why do you go to those places?”
“Because I like going to those places! It’s safer now for me than it has ever been! Why would I stop? And if Method gets a regular source of nutrition, well, that’s just convenient.” They’re both becoming agitated; Jess is swinging her legs anxiously, Method is looking a little more shark-y than they did before.
So he backs off. Physically takes a step back, even. “Hey, I’m just here to let you know. And now that I’ve done that, I’ll leave you alone.”
“Wait.” Jess stands up and approaches him, this time. “We should exchange numbers. Keep in touch.”
“Why?”
“Because you are the only other human I have ever talked to about this.”
So they do end up exchanging numbers. Eddie feels a little weird about that, somehow, as well as the fact that Venom has gone from get-off-my-lawn to giggling in the span of a conversation.
After a while of this, he asks on the way home, “You’re not worried about them anymore?”
I DOUBT METHOD WILL BE ATTEMPTING TO LEAVE THE PLANET ANY TIME SOON.
“What makes you say that?”
EDDIE, FOR A JOURNALIST YOU ARE INCREDIBLY OBLIVIOUS. THEY ARE CLEARLY ROMANTICALLY INVOLVED.
Eddie chokes on his own spit hard enough that he has to concentrate hard on not crashing the bike.