The Changing

I found the immediacy of the tragedy shocking. Its speed overwhelmed me; my reaction was hopeless, grasping for hope.

I fell on my knees, blood pouring out of several violent wounds.

My killer screamed, froth spittle exploding from a teeth filled jaw. Angry red eyes settled on my broken form.

I groped for my gun, secure on my duty belt. I slowed my breathing and focused my remaining energy on neutralizing the threat.

The vile beast screamed and lurched toward me, its long shadow bobbing on the uneven cave walls.

I threw up my left arm in a pointless, instinctual attempt to protect myself as my right hand drew my duty gun.

Blindly as trained I emptied the pistol from my hip into the oncoming writhing death machine. It jerked violently as each round impacted. Its scream changed tone as the force of my rounds found a home. Click, click click…. my magazine was spent, and instinctively, I reached for a replacement magazine as I ejected the empty one. I slapped the fresh magazine into my Glock, racked it and mag dumped 15 rounds into the twitching, screaming form of the dying beast.

Cordoid filled the air, the smell mingled with the tinny aroma of my blood. Sweat stung my eyes as the beast finally fell silent.

I pushed back my hair. I wiped my eyes and limped over to the corpse. I kicked it, a thick yellow ooze seeping out of the bullet wounds.

A wave of nausea washed over me as the shock of what just occurred flooded my system.

In my ten years of police work, I had never come this close to dying. And until today, I didn’t believe aliens were real; now, one of them bled out in front of me.

I let out a long sigh holstered my gun, and went out on the radio, “Shots fired, shots fired, the suspect is down. I need a supervisor and EMS.” The dispatcher responded calmly,” Unit 60N10, are you ok?”

I took a deep breath, held the radio send button, and replied, “Negative, I am beat up and in need of immediate assistance.” Then I blacked out.

— — — -

An original story by Mark Brown