Page 63 of The World Undone

My blood turned cold when I walked into the hardware store, the shelving units were shoved and knocked over, the floor littered with tools and slabs of wood. The fluorescent light in the ceiling flickered obnoxiously, like the splashes of blood and decapitated humans strewn in the aisles didn’t lend enough of an ominous backdrop to the setting.

And there, in the back, was Seamus.

His teeth sank into the arm of a man fighting for control of his gun, his scream low, guttural, full of pain.

So the world really was that cruel then.

“Dad?” I approached slowly, hands raised like I was cornering a wild animal. Honestly, it wasn’t far from the truth.

Seamus’s eyes were dark, streaked with yellow, and wild. There was no recognition when they met mine. He pulled back, ripping a bit of flesh from the man with the gun. And then he chewed, swallowed.

I fought the urge to vomit again, but I didn’t win that battle this time.

I spilled the meager contents of my stomach on the black and white tiled floor.

The man with the gun dropped it, then fell to his knees, motionless. Not a single muscle twitched; his face was frozen in horror, the shape of a scream permanently molded around his lips.

Paralyzed. Like Max.

What the fuck? Did my dad have some of that flesh-eater poison on him? Did the shade work with him?

“Fuck.” Darius’s eyes darted between me and my father, like he wasn’t sure who to give his attention to first. “Eli, stay back.”

I hadn’t realized I’d been moving towards him. My body was stuck in some perverse trauma response. I was scared, fucking terrified. I wanted nothing more than to go to my dad—the pillar of wisdom and family who’d held me tall for my entire life. My body couldn’t compute that that same man was now the one responsible for my fear.

“What the hell is wrong with him?” I watched in horror as my dad’s hands, shaped mid-transformation into claws, peeled a thin layer of skin back from the human collapsed at his feet.

And then, dangling the flesh above his mouth, he consumed it.

I glanced at the others, hoping one of them would crack a smile, tell me this was some elaborate, ass-backwards joke. I’d punch them for it, but the relief I would feel would dispel my rage quickly.

I almost uttered the word please, begging this burgeoning fantasy to be reality.

Atlas looked gutted, his face morphed into the picture of grief—like my father was already dead before us, not this flesh-eating monster he’d become.

Bishop’s skin was ashy gray, and I could see him fighting the urge to vomit.

Two shots rang out and my dad fell to his knees, the frozen human cushioning his fall slightly.

Bishop and Darius both had their dart guns poised.

Atlas’s hung limp at his side.

Mine was abandoned at the entryway of the hardware store.

Seamus’s eyes found mine, and for a moment, there was a flash of recognition.

“Eli.”

My name sounded pained, full of torment as it pushed through his lips. Like it took all of his willpower to say.

“We know where the venom is coming from now,” Darius muttered, swearing under his breath.

“Dad?” I moved towards him, hardly paying attention to the growing puddle of blood as I waded through it, slipping and sliding. I gripped his head between my hands, held his eyes with mine. “Dad? What’s wrong? What happened?”

He looked confused, terrified—I saw my own horror mirrored back at me.

My stomach clenched and my fingers trembled as they held his face, my body betraying me as I fought for composure, for control.

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