Chronicling the End
By: David K. Montoya
Once the doorknob began to turn, Megan pulled away from the door and sat in an upright position. A man walked into her room; a short Indian, very well groomed. He wore a bleached white lab coat and had an equally bleached smile.
“Hello, Miss Tunner. I’m Dr. Patel. I will be doing your operation this evening.”
“Hello, doctor,” she muttered.
“Do you have any questions?” the doctor asked with a blunt demeanor.
“No… no. I don’t think so.”
“Okay, very good. Then I’ll see you in the operating room.”
The no-nonsense doctor walked out of the room, leaving Megan with a hopeful smile.
After seven hours on the operating table, orderlies wheeled Megan Tunner into the recovery room. Dr. Patel spoke to his colleagues. “The operation itself was successful—now if only her body does not reject the heart.”
A couple of hours after surgery, Megan took a turn for the worse. The nurse on duty noted that her skin appeared a dusky grey and that Megan’s heart rate was in the one eighties. Fearing that her new heart was being rejected the nurse called in Dr. Patel.
By the time the doctor arrived, he found Megan detached from all life support. She crouched next to her bed, her back toward the Dr. Patel.
“Miss Tunner? Are you all right?”
She did not reply to his question, nor acknowledge that he was there.
“Miss Tun—Megan, where’s your nurse?”
Patel slowly walked to Megan where she continued crouching, and as he got closer he heard her struggling for breath.
“Are you having trouble breathing? I think it’s best we put you back on the breathing machine.”
Again, no answer. The doctor began to think that she was having an allergic reaction to a sedative. As he walked up to her, Patel placed his hand on the back of her head.
“Megan, do you hear me? I think—” He was unable to finish his sentence. As his hand slid down her scalp, her skin detached from the skull and flapped over his hand. He gazed at the backside of her scalp and the hair hanging from his splayed fingers. He felt his breaths come in short gasps, and he wheezed out a short prayer.
Patel jumped away from her and stood there for several moments until Megan turned to face him, and the doctor covered his mouth to keep from retching. Her skin began to peel from her face and her yellow eyes glowed, contrasting against the neon lighting. Patel squealed when he saw a half-eaten finger dangling from her teeth. He was frozen with fright, in total disbelief at the monstrosity that crouched before him. In that instant, and horrified by the thought, Doctor Patel saw the future of humanity crouching before him.
She expelled a monstrous hiss and exposed bloodstained teeth, legs tensing to leap. Patel attempted to flee, but the only thing that made it to the door was a river of his own blood.
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