[REND] 1.4 - Crappy Monday

Technically, I did mean to hit her. I wanted her off of me. But I didn't expect I had gotten this strong. Humans were pretty frail.

I snorted. Not even a few minutes as a monster, and I’m already using the cliche line.

Grabbing the cop’s wrist, I felt for a pulse. Didn’t find any. Next, I hovered my hand above her mouth. Really, no air. She also wasn’t blinking. Her bloodshot eyes stared at the locker to our left—her last sight before exiting this world. I poked her cheek a few times. No reaction. Super dead.

I sat by her side, admiring the odd angle her neck was bent. She was like one of the dolls I used to disassemble as a kid.

I continued to stare. My brain hadn’t caught up processing the wild string of events leading me to my first murder.

“Wait… this isn’t murder,” I told the corpse. “You were going to shoot me. You did, actually. But just missed.”

The corpse was silent.

“I correctly applied Rule #4,” I said. “Don’t you dare accuse me of entrapment. I followed your instructions and presented you with an opportunity to shoot me; I never coerced you to do it. It’s just the same concept as you, cops, pretending to buy drugs in a sting operation.”

The corpse had no answer to that. She couldn’t refute my arguments.

“This is an open-and-shut case of self-defense,” I continued. “You could’ve killed me if you got a lucky shot. Though I kinda feel bad for killing you after you had saved me. I’m going to put on record that it was accidental.”

Was this guilt? The emotion kind of guilt, not the legal definition. It equated to remorse, right? What was remorse supposed to be like? I wasn’t feeling that… I think.

Some stinging as I moved. I touched my left shoulder. Blood?

“Oh, so you did hit me. We’re even then.”

I couldn’t get a good look at the bullet hole because of the angle, so I touched it. Something hot poked out—the bullet. My body spat it out. Then I felt the hole close and smoothen over. Slightly disgusting but also awesome. And I had a souvenir. Into my pocket the bullet went.

For my other injury, I grabbed the spike poking out of my stomach and pulled it out in one go. I hissed, bracing for pain. Again, it did hurt, but not really. It was like peeling off a giant scab. Satisfying in a way. I wasn’t keeping the spike as a souvenir.

I observed the wound on my abdomen heal. Muscle fibers wriggled like worms, reaching out to weave with each other and hide my organs inside. Skin spread like slime over the raw flesh before flattening and settling. Seconds later, there was no more hole. Just a clean circle of pale skin surrounded by dried blood.

“I really am an… Adumbrae.”

Cue in dramatic music.

Why did I turn into one so fast? Like, how? This shouldn’t be. Everyone knew it took weeks or months, sometimes even years, for voices to gradually slide into a person’s consciousness and convince them to give up their bodies. Movies would show people suffering for a long time before they cracked. It was like peer pressure from another dimension.

Fine, movies may not be a good reference, but there are mandatory subjects about Adumbrae in school. More interesting than Sex Ed lessons, I could say that.

I’ve also attended some of Dad’s lectures—Mom would bring me to watch from the back of the auditorium at Eloyce University. At twelve years old, I didn’t understand even a tenth of what Dad was saying. But I could remember his explanation that people took time turning into a monster. It wasn’t a simple matter, as if the Adumbrae was a scammer cold-calling any telephone number it could get. Certain circumstances needed to happen.

I could hear Dad’s voice, “Before a connection to the other dimension is made, a catalyst is required. This is a unique energy signature only human brains can produce. Intense and extreme emotions like despair, about to surrender in life, or the other end of the spectrum, like unbridled greed, willing to do anything to fulfill a desire.”

Given my abnormality, I never considered myself in danger of being cold-called by an Adumbrae. Then again, I never expected to be almost killed either.

“My desire to live,” I muttered. “That was it.”

Part of it. This cop also wanted to live, but received no help. Plenty of other people died on the train. What was different between us? Could it be that the Adumbrae in my head had been talking to me all along and I hadn’t noticed? Was the different way my mind worked also a factor?

Also, what was up with my body’s instantaneous transformation into a superhuman? Super strength, really fast regeneration, and a very sturdy body—these things were the first manifestations of an Adumbrae’s power. They were supposed to get the host addicted. The modus operandi of the Adumbrae was working because I did feel great!

But it was common knowledge that this happened gradually. That was why I was surprised that Baggy Overalls went from a human body to a hulk with spikes in just a few minutes. Another surprising thing was two Adumbrae showing up at the same time. Three, including me.

I vigorously shook my head. Not yet.

My body may no longer be human, but I still have my mind. I remained in control. Not the Adumbrae.

For now.

“Adumbrae, Ma’am, uh, whatever your name is?” I called out. That odd voice didn’t speak in my head again. I looked around. “I want to talk. What’s next after this?”

The only sounds I heard were screams and gunfire filtering through the window. There was a roar followed by a crash. The party continued outside. I couldn’t remain here. If I met another police officer, they’d think I was injured and would want me treated. If I ran, I’d be deemed suspicious. If I went with them to get checked, emergency responders would notice I wasn’t normal, and I’d have to kill them all. That was the first twenty minutes of Running From My Mind, a movie where the protagonist became an Adumbrae.

Running From My Mind wasn’t a good movie, very campy at times. But it was based on a true story with some dramatic additions. As a new Adumbrae, I could consider it as a dos and don’ts guide. The protagonist went on the run after the massacre, leaving his normal life behind. Family, friends, career, everything. After killing that many people, he didn’t have a choice. He was hunted down by the Bureau of Interdimensional Defense, the BID. It took BID agents three years to finally corner and execute him. By then, he looked like five humans glued together and covered with scales.

I shouldn’t let that happen to me. Never invite suspicion and maintain my normal life for as long as I could. I hated change. Such a hassle. And I didn’t want to live under a bridge or hide in a sewer.

I breathed deeply. “Let’s take this one at a time. Clothes.”

No way I could wander outside all covered in blood. This wasn’t an action movie where the hero shreds an entire base of bad guys and could somehow return home with no one questioning why he looked like he swam in a pool of blood. Too bad I didn’t have the power of off-screen teleportation.

What was available to me were the clothes in the lockers. Wouldn’t be a good fit given my size, but they’d have to do.

Forcing the lockers open and rummaging through them, I thought about the bigger issue—this dead cop.

I couldn’t leave her lying here. A suspicious death; the police would investigate how this figured with the Adumbrae attack. They’d dust the room for prints, maybe find flecks of blood and some strands of hair. My blood. My hair. I should dispose of this body so no one would think much of this room.

But how? It was broad daylight, and cops were converging on this place.

Radio static. “4B62, status update? ComExo en route. Advise to vacate the combat zone.”

ComExo? My problems kept piling higher. The police were bringing in the big guns, the Combat Exoskeletons. Killing cops was one thing. Fighting ComExos, the walking tanks, was a whole different ballgame—I had never played any ball game in my life. I had cheered at many ball games though.

Begin changing into disguise montage.

I chose, stole, dark colored clothes so they’d disguise any blood that might seep through. An added precaution, though most of my spilled blood had dried. The pants were too long; I rolled up their legs. I also stole the cop’s belt to secure my freshly stolen pants. Add in an overly large jacket that I wore over my bloody backup, and, in under a minute, I now looked innocent. Weird, but innocent.

If Deen, my self-appointed best friend who forced herself into my life, would see my outfit, she’d call the fashion police to arrest me.

More static as I tucked my hair, frizzled with dried blood, into the back of my hoodie under the jacket.

“4B62, come in. 4B62, take the injured individual and leave! Urgent! Adumbrae with tentacles heading to your location. It might enter the building. Update us on—krzzzt.”

I crushed the radio with my hand.

Adumbrae with tentacles? Fidgeting Hoodie was coming. A problem.

And a solution.

I opened my fist and let the pieces of the crushed radio fall, marveling at my newly gifted strength. It wasn’t exactly a gift since the Adumbrae would demand my body in return. Then I checked the cop for other electronics, found her bodycam, and pulverized it too.

“Oh, I’m not forgetting this.” I picked up the cop’s gun, covering my hand with the jacket’s long sleeves, and returned it to its holster. Would be questionable if it got left behind here while this cop’s corpse was elsewhere.

I carried the body over my right shoulder. She was quite a tall woman. Her legs almost scraped the floor.

Now, where was my solution?

I sensed the floor shake. “There we go. Just in time.”

Roars. Heavy footfalls. The quaking increased in intensity. A massive crash and the building shook hard. Three locker cabinets fell, one on me. I kicked it away, crumpling its door. Cracks ran across the ceiling and rained dust. The Adumbrae, probably Fidgeting Hoodie, got inside the building. Time for a reunion. I had a snack as a gift.

I pulled my hood over my head and ran out of the corridor. Empty. But the Adumbrae should be here. I could hear its loud steps. Clanging of metal too, maybe pans and pots. Must be in the kitchen somewhere.

I cautiously walked down the corridor with my baggage. Several minutes ago, I was a pathetic, wounded girl fleeing. Now, I was looking for the monster to give it a snack.

How fast times change.

“Hgraar!” A dark green behemoth burst out of the wall up ahead. Its head opened, and spiked tendrils slithered out, threateningly waving at me. It was Fidgeting Hoodie, alright.

“Hey! Can you understand me?” I knew that Adumbrae fought each other sometimes. I enjoyed watching those videos in the far corners of the internet before they got censored. But maybe I could make friends with this guy. “I have food for you!”

The Adumbrae mimicked an angry elephant with its calls. It whipped its head around like in a shampoo commercial and flung its tendrils at me—my offer of friendship was denied. I smashed my way into another room. Some of the tendrils penetrated the walls. I kicked them away.

“Ow! I tore a thigh muscle.” I hadn’t kicked that high since my high school cheerleading days. The pain quickly went away. My surprises were also impressive. “Cut that out!” I yelled, poking my head out the corridor.

The monster retracted its tendrils as it stomped toward me.

“Eat this!” I threw the cop at the Adumbrae. It caught the body with its tentacles and pulled it towards its mouth. “I mean, like literally eat that.”

With the cop eaten by the Adumbrae, no one would think she was killed beforehand by somebody else. That somebody being me. They’d just award her with posthumous honors and stuff, take some pictures with her family, and I’d be scot-free. The remaining part of the solution was that someone should see this. Good thing that former Fidgeting Hoodie was quite cooperative.

I ran toward the door as the Adumbrae chased me with the cop’s corpse between its fangs and tentacles. It tried to catch me again, but I ran too fast for it. I could feel the force of each of my steps, the energy of my coiled muscles. Heh¸skinny me thinking about muscles.

I took care not to destroy the door as I came out to the parking area.

It was a warzone out here. Smoking cars. Some were overturned. Two of them were cop cars. There were also dead cops. Salute to their bravery. And was that a dead Adumbrae? Didn’t look like Baggy Overalls, but it surely was a monster. Kudos to whoever managed to kill this amphibious-looking oddity with a flappy tail.

Up ahead were three more cop cars aligned to form a barricade. The cops behind them, pistols and shotguns drawn, waved at me to run away. I happily complied. Remember not to run too fast.

The noise of a turbine made me look up. A blue and white helicopter with a funny design descended. Dangling from its belly was a ComExo encasing its cop pilot. The police chopper opened its clamps and released the ComExo.

I slowed my pace as I watched the ComExo crack the pavement as it landed. I had seen several units up close before because Mom worked as a consultant for Greaves, the maker of all things that kill Adumbrae. I pushed aside thoughts of how ridiculous it was that I became an Adumbrae, given the work of both my parents, focusing instead on the ComExo. Someday, one or two units might hunt me.

The Adumbrae exited the building by making another hole. Thankfully, it still had the corpse in its mouth. The living cops angrily yelled upon seeing their dead comrade, egging on the ComExo to waste the Adumbrae.

The coils on the ComExo’s electro-pulse cannon glowed bright blue. A slight hum. The hair on my neck stood on end even though I was already past the row of cop cars. The ComExo fired a blue beam that wrapped the Adumbrae in a cloak of lightning. This should be enough to fry the brains of Tier Ones and disrupt the regeneration of Tier Twos enough that conventional weapons could overcome their regeneration.

I squinted my eyes at the light show. The Adumbrae keeled over, its muscles uncontrollably contracting. It released the half-corpse. The cops fired at the Adumbrae.

Ramello won't shut up for a week about this, I thought. One of my classmates was from a family of cops. He’d sing praises of their bravery today.

I jogged away as people in hiding came out, brandishing their phones to record an Adumbrae getting killed. Many of its tendrils got torn away by the high-caliber gun the ComExo fired. It bled purple from dozens of holes. Chunks of its flesh scattered everywhere as it deflated on the ground.

“Yep…” I said, giving my fellow monster one last look before I turned the corner. “I should never get exposed.”