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Chronicling the End - “Observation Unit” By: David K. Montoya

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Chronicling the End
“Observation Unit”
By: David K. Montoya


A thick white cloud instantly filled the lab’s chamber and though Xavier could not see his partner, he was certain that the force of the reaction drove Williamson to the floor. The room became silent; the only thing that could be heard was a sizzling sound.

Lost in a white blankness, Xavier Scott knew he needed to get the hell out of that lab. Slowly he begin to make his way to the left—the scientist knew that was where the exit was. But before Scott could get to the door, he came to a sudden halt. What about Mark, he thought. In all the commotion his mind slipped away to his needs, but what about his partner?

Xavier needed to know if Williamson was alive. He paused for a moment as he pondered his options. Finally Scott called out to his friend. “Mark!” He waited for a moment for a possible response. There was nothing.

Xavier frantically continued searching for the exit, as he stumbled through the thick smoke. Where is that damned door?

He moved blindly along the lab until his foot brushed against something soft. The young scientist stood motionless for a moment.

“M-mark? Mark, is that you?”

There was no answer. The only thing Xavier heard was a faint moan. Xavier stooped down and waved his hand back and forth, searching for whatever he brushed against. As the scientist searched, he heard a pain-filled moan. Xavier followed the noise until his hand came in contact with Williamson’s shoe, which he could just barely see. At his touch the moans became louder, and a noticeable stench of burnt flesh wafted in the haze.

“It’s okay, buddy,” Xavier said and moved closer to his friend. “It’s all right… I’m here.”

Again, the only response was a low-toned groan. This time it sounded a bit different—it almost sounded angry . Scott could finally see Williamson, and he gasped at what he saw. His friend and longtime lab partner had suffered severe burns to his entire body, transforming him into something monstrous. What especially caught Xavier’s attention were his friend’s eyes—they were a mixture of a yellowish-orange color.

“What in God’s name?” Williamson attempted to move, but Xavier intervened. “Relax. Try not to move, I’m going get help. Do you hear me, Mark? I‘m going to get you help.”

“Uaaah…” came Williamson’s reply.

“All right, buddy, I’ll be right ba—”

Xavier was interrupted when Williamson’s monstrous hand grabbed his throat. The grasp became unbelievably tight, cutting off Scott’s oxygen flow. The moans now sounded like growls.

Xavier tried to speak, but that was useless because of Williamson’s grip. He saw Scott’s yellowed eyes, dull and lifeless, coming closer through the haze. Smoke rose from his friend’s back. Scott screamed and opened his mouth, and Xavier realized Williamson meant to bite him, as molars neared his face. He clawed desperately at Williamson’s hand on his throat, but incisors bit into his cheek, scrapping bone. Hot blood flowed down his neck and pain exploded as Scott sheared off a chunk of facial meat and began to chew.

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