It wasn’t a big wedding. It didn’t take place at a fancy golf course or five-star hotel. Just a small community center on the outskirts of a quiet mid-western town. Family, close friends, an officiant, and serving staff were all that could fit inside those walls. The ceremony went by without a problem, just the usual cold feet warmed by an official kiss. All were happy. Thus the reception started, and quickly everyone was becoming inebriated. Dancing, toasts, and singing filled the space as the hours ticked by until finally someone thought of a brilliant idea. An old classic that everyone knows. Shoulder upon shoulder was grabbed and soon the conga line had begun to grow. Smiles and kicks were shared as people joined in. The Bride and Groom, their parents, siblings, old friends, new friends, the officiant, the staff, all were welcome into the loving line. A memorable finale to the new couple’s first official night before people went on their ways.
It could have been because of the drinks and fun, but some who did not join the line began to think this conga ride was lasting a bit longer than expected. No one wanted to say a word about it though, the mood was still quite merry in the small community center. But then someone began to yell. First an annoyed yell seemingly placing blame on the person in front of them. All they could reply was, “What do you mean you can’t let go?” Then, ever so slowly, the confusion ran down the line. It started to become quite clear that it was just that, they couldn’t let go. Not in a, I’m having so much fun I don’t want to let go kind of hold, but quite literally they could not let go of the shoulders in front of them.
People pulled and pushed each other trying to get free or at least scratch their nose. It took a few minutes for the DJ to cut the music so people could actually talk and realize what was going on. Others outside the line tried to pry hands from shoulders but to no avail. Physical strength could not undo this conga’s line. Eventually authorities were called and as paramedics and firefighters arrived on the scene even they could not begin to understand the predicament in front of them. It was like a kid friendly Human Centipede, but lacking the magic.
After an hour of questioning it was decided something had to be done. Firefighters went to the first two people attached at the front, the bride leading and the groom linked behind her, to confirm with them that it was okay to try and pull their hands from the shoulders. There isn’t a specific tool for this kind of delicate situation so it was decided a crowbar would be used first. It wasn’t going to be easy and it was definitely going to hurt, but at this point the people just wanted to escape from this diabolical ‘dance’. The firefighters forced the crowbar between the palm of the hand and the shoulder, breaking skin as the newlyweds winched in pain but pushed to continue. Deeper it went, then using the strength of three firemen they started to pry the hand up.
And then the real screaming began.
No, not because of the pain caused by forcing a metal object between fused skin, these screams came from outside the line. At the very back of the conga was an older gentleman, the groom’s grandfather, who despite leaving the hospital a week prior for a heart related condition decided to get in on the fun of a classic conga line after drinking a shot of something he had been handed. The shot in question was a Jägerbomb, with that lovely energy drink finish. That, along with the added stress of being fused to the person in front of him, was a bit too much for his old heart to handle which then proceeded to give out. He fell while still attached to the person in front of him. A staff member who was close by tried to grab the old man before he hit the ground but unknowingly used one hand to grab his frail shoulder. And as they both fell, the line grew. Paramedics rushed to the staffer’s side to help, to try and pull him away from the old man so they could get a closer look at the now unconscious grandfather. But with only one arm free, the staff member started flailing trying to get away, trying to grab anything or anyone in order to get up and out, as if drowning. In the confusion his one free arm began tugging at a paramedic’s shirt, pulling them down so he could get up. Climbing up his fellow man, as if just an obstacle, in order to escape yet only getting so far before pushing down on the paramedic’s shoulder and thus never being free again.
The line grew.
The firemen using the crowbar, shocked by the sudden screams and panic, strayed from their training, lost rhythm, and pushed a bit too hard on the metal bar. A human hand can only take so much force, as the groom soon found out with the crowbar digging up and through the back of his hand. And yet, as he screamed with skin and bone broken and bloody, the groom could not let go. What’s more curious is how quickly the loose skin seemed to fuse back into the wife’s shoulder without ever healing. It looked as if the groom’s hand was melting into his partner. Their screams outmatched the rest. Once a space of happiness and cheering was now filled with horror and cries.
Within the next hour the media began to notice.
Reporters, news vans, and helicopters surrounded the community center as the county watched this impossibility unfold. The line was forced outside and at this point there was a fair amount of paramedics and firefighters attached, howling to let go. Some were asking how they became attached, as most authorities tried to keep their distance from the line after witnessing what happened with the grandfather and staff member. As this dilemma grew, a young woman strolling down the street holding her groceries for the week noticed the disturbance across from her. She stopped abruptly, dropped her bags on the sidewalk, crossed the road and walked up to the line as if in a trance, only waking up after touching the shoulders of the last person connected. Confusion followed by fear swelled up inside her but before she could even question what had happened, she felt a pair of hands grab her shoulders.
People watched it all unfold on their televisions, computers, and phones over the course of the next few days. What started as a small town’s unique issue turned into a global phenomenon. The world was curious. It became apparent that those in the line had to be spoon fed, sleeping was a challenge in and of itself, and normal bodily functions could no longer be done in private. Needless to say, this conga continued well past its welcome. Some believed it to be a conspiracy, some just outright thought it was fake, and then there were some who saw it as a sign from God. Humans flocked from all over the world, believing that joining in this line was the passage to kingdom come. It got to the point where the military was sent in to stop people from attaching themselves. Fights broke out and people sprinted over barricades in order to unite with the holy line. Soon enough, some members of the military who were trying to stop those from joining, began to attach to the line themselves.
It grew and it grew and it grew.
Politicians, world leaders, criminal cartel members, landlords, no one was safe from the pull of the conga line. After 5 days the line was spanning the length of the United States. After 10 days the length of North and South America was involved in the rhythm of the dance. The line became too long to feed everyone, some began to die of starvation, dehydration, neglect, and exposure. There were a few who became so overcome by stress and malnourishment they could only feel one outcome was available to them. Sinking their teeth into their own hands in order to quench the hunger, and maybe even get free, only to find sickening disappointment. But maybe, it was the person in front of them who was the issue. “Maybe…” they thought, “…Maybe if they were dead, I could get free”. Killing is no effortless task, but it becomes even more complicated when a person cannot use their own hands, and they’ve been starved for close to two weeks. One can only imagine being in front of another while they are being eaten alive, screaming for help, yet not being able to do a single thing.
There were some that pushed against the line, believing it was here to destroy American ideology and that extreme measures were necessary in order to end this nightmare. Or at least that’s what certain preachers, conspiracy theorists, and televangelists began to say. But when the improvised explosives went off and the dust settled, even if the whole body should have been vaporized, all that was left was a nightmarish chain of severed torso’s attached to one another. Disconnecting from the line, it seemed, was impossible. Even if the attached participants had died, they could not let go. As if their very own arms and shoulders had become that of something else. Something other than human. Governments couldn’t understand what was causing this. And the worst part was everyone attached was still able to think freely. They used this free will to do all they could do; Beg, scream, and pray. The only thing worse than being attached to the line itself was being close enough to hear it.
Until, on the fifteenth day since the wedding, at exactly 11:15 A.M, the line fell into a simultaneous silence. Approximately 16,067,856 people from the front of the line in Canada to the last known person in Argentina, and even those believed to have perished, stood if they had the limbs to and stared forward. Those who were on their way to attach to the line felt an urge to stop, followed immediately by an urge to run as far as they could in the other direction. The world was quiet for one brief moment. Then 15 minutes after the line went silent, as if hit by some otherworldly force, every single human being in the line buckled and fell, hands still attached. All 16 million people, at the exact same time, had died. As quickly as it grew, it ended. No answers, no screams, it was over. The world had breathed a confused sigh of solace. This conga line had been in everyone’s mind for the past 15 days, and it had taken millions with it. Understanding it was an impossibility but at least now, the people on this planet could try and relax. Forces were dispatched from governments around the world to help clean up the bodies, but with the hands and shoulders still attached, efforts were halted until a legitimate plan of action could be considered.
Looting of the bodies became rampant, as there wasn’t a force large enough to guard the entirety of the conga line, nor were most people too eager about getting close to it. Ceremonies and funerals were held by outside family and friends as murals were created down the line showing thoughts and prayers to all those affected. After a few days the bodies were still there, still attached, across two continents. Finally, after fifteen days, preparations were complete to move and bury the entirety of the 16 million souls. Volunteers and government-paid personnel came to the line together to begin moving the bodies. This nightmare could finally be put to rest and the world would try its best to move on. It was the largest joint coalition of countries working together in history and together they began the process of recovery.
That is, until it began to twitch.
The line convulsed and began to move, not as if it was attached by a large number of individual persons, but as one. It slithered, using the bodies to move in ways the human anatomy was not built to. Bones cracked, skin ripped, and all we could do was watch as it lifted itself up. It didn’t need people to come to it anymore, it was coming for us. And it yearns for all to experience its rhythm.
Credit: James P. Hoban
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