It looks like me, but it isn’t. It’s killing everyone wearing my face, but I only watch in horror. I don’t move, and it doesn’t attack me. I don’t talk, so it leaves me alone. The quarantined island is slowly reshaped, reformed into its gross, biological makeup with what I perceive as my own design. I’m alive, yes, but fellow soldiers, my friends, have been taken. Everything has been stolen, copied, used and discarded, the base components of what defined life in the first place gone in the silent rush. The island is just the first stage of its plan. If it escapes, the planet is next. I clench my fists. It pulses, feeling my defiant rebellion. It somehow knows what is to come. I grab the one thing that it fears and it coalesces before me with my visage. It believes that by using myself against me it can win. Not anymore. I aim. It leaps. I fire. The explosive shot is like being born again. I drop dead at my feet. But it isn’t me. It never was. My resolve strengthened, I escape the secret facility that created it. The world will know the truth. The nightmare will not be repeated. Not on my watch.
About the author: Winston Malone lives in SLC, Utah, works full-time and writes fiction as a hobby. He’s been writing for over a decade, honing his style and ideas, pursuing different avenues of interest. Winston has written screenplays, comics, novels and short stories, while dabbling in poetry and flash fiction from time to time. You can find more of his work on his website Stormfallennovel.com.
Leave a Reply