Scales by freetanktop

I remember how things used to be. I used to wake up every morning, late, to get ready for school. I used to look in the mirror and comment on a new pimple that had decided to manifest itself on my face. Hell, I used to eat waffles and eggs on the mornings when my mom was home and had time to make breakfast. Things were different now. Forget it, that is the epitome of understatements. The world is dead, and so is everybody else, including me.


Now as I stare at myself in the dirty mirror, I comment on the outbreak of orange scales and purpling, bruised barnacles that had broken out on my neck. I comment on how my pupils were so large that they only left a sliver of my brown irises to be seen. Now, I was a zombie, for lack of a better term. About the only good thing I had going for me was the fact that I didn't crave brains, which meant that I wasn't like the others.


A car alarm went off in the distance, snapping me out of my pit of self pity. I grabbed the set of keys from the hook as I passed through the living room, nearly dropping them thrice. Add 'lack of motor skills due to scales being uncooperative' to the growing list of the virus' symptoms.


I stepped outside in my hoodie and sweats, not caring what I looked like because there was reason for me to care anymore. I shut and locked the door behind me, shoving the keys in my hoodie pocket as I went. There'd be a swarm here very soon. They were always attracted to the noise. I, myself, instead of heading to eat the brains of whatever had caused that car alarm to go off, was heading to the gas station down the road. I needed something salty this morning and pretzels sounded fantastic.


I could hear them swarming from a mile away their screams and howls echoing throughout the valley that I called home. There would be thousands gathered before noon, but they usually disperse by the time the sun sets because it gets too cold for the cold-blooded creatures. Their screams cut through the air like knives as several of them ran past the entrance to my neighborhood. Covered nearly head-to-toe in those orange scales, most of them were completely naked, the only thing covered them was the very scales that marked them as infected. I stuck to the shadows as I weaved my way through the cul de sac and out onto the highway.


Cars were stopped haphazardly with their doors left wide open. Blood spattered nearly everything in sight as I walked right next to the fence-line. Several infected streamed past me, their acute hearing honed in on the faint whispers of the car alarm I'd left behind. I held my breath, grateful that I still had it, and smiled as they passed me one by one, glad that none of them turned to tear me apart.


The gas station came into view and the car alarm stopped shrieking in the distance, they must have ripped the car apart, piece by piece, looking for anything to eat. It'd been weeks since something had broken the silence that laid heavily over the town, which meant that there was no food, at least for them.


I walked through the broken glass of the station's front window and surveyed my surroundings. Blood pooled around a lump of rotting flesh in the corner of the room, and a shiver ran down my spine. Most everything else was intact, aside from the many shelves that were picked clean and the occasional splash of dried blood.


I walked quickly to the back of the room, grabbing one of the few remaining bottles of water and scoping out for anything that might be remotely edible. Molded bread and sticky substances littered the floor as I maneuvered my way around the mess, careful not to make too much noise. I didn't want them swarming this place, I wouldn't be able to eat for a few days, and who knows what that would do to me.


I nearly jumped out of my skin as a soft bump sounded from the front of the room. I froze rigid, and awaited the gritty moan of an infected or the telltale clicking of their scales tapping against each other. But there was nothing except a soft purr and the pitter-pat of padded feet. Next thing I knew, there was an orange cat standing in front of me. His gaze was soft as he tipped his head to the side and mewed. A smile fell over my cracked lips, and a faint thought told me to grab a ChapStick before I headed home.


Behind the cat's head, I saw what I was looking for, and scurried over to it, half expecting the beast to run from me. But it didn't, and it stayed put as I passed. I grabbed the crunched bag of pretzels and looked back only to meet the beast's ever-watchful gaze. My fingers groped lazily at the bag, and I knew it would be impossible to get it open with the outbreak that had taken over my hands. I'd just have to wait until I got home so I could cut it or something. I grabbed some other things before I walked out, including: a ChapStick, a six pack of those little juice pouches that I loved and a package of ramen.


I nodded toward the cat and headed out the door, the goods I'd collected stuffed safely in a plastic bag. But as I stepped out of the shadows, a bullet whizzed past my face before I heard a gunshot ring out.


I knew how the virus worked. I'd seen it happen again and again.


Once you were infected, you slowly lost control of your body as it took hold of your mind and you were eaten from the inside. But it was only when it killed you that you became one of them.


That you became a sound-driven, man-eating monster.


I'd always thought I'd be the one left standing, since the virus hadn't taken hold of my mind just yet. But as I stared down a barrel of a shotgun, with an old man with black teeth smiling coldly at me, I knew.


The moment he shot me, we'd both be goners.


The End


~~~


Though we are in NanoBytes, the amazing collection of sci-fi authors and their brilliant stories, author of this particular story focuses primarily on horror. You can check out her work on her profile.

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