March, 2034
You can never quite prepare for the end. Imagine your normal life, however monotonous or dreary it might have been, and destroy it. All those little luxuries you took for granted gone without a trace; not just mortal coils like hot water or food to eat; but basic human interaction. A hug, a kiss, a freakin' handshake are nought but distant memories.
That was one thing I hadn't accounted for. After the initial attacks, I had thought I had been smart gathering supplies and utilities while others clung to their family and friends. Now I'm all alone out here in the desert; the closest I get to other human life is the occasional picture on one of the few billboards still standing on this never-ending high-way.
I suppose it's just some cruel joke to some-one out there. I could just imagine the conversation; Hey Bill, you know what would be hilarious? Let's take some poor bastard and throw him in a desert, and replace every other human with hideous mutants?
What made it worse is that I kept telling myself I deserved it. I had actually came up with a pretty decent argument after a couple of months talking to myself. I must have upset God, Or Satan or Buddha or whoever the hell controlled the universe and upset him horribly. I had worked at a bar in down-town Las Vegas, and had had my fair share of nights that turned into blurs in my memory. What if I did some-thing that caused this mayhem, what if I was the one that caused the creation of the Bugs?
This was the topic that dominated my mind; like some looming dark cloud hovering over an empty landscape. Oops, just described my situation. I shouldered my backpack, and took off sprinting. My feet slapped the sandy asphalt through my worn soles. Over head the dark storm clouds rumbled, threatening to unleash their acidic rain upon me. Maybe I should stay out here on the infinite road that had become my hell. I could let my mortal coil be washed away will all my cares and worries.
That's when the buzzing starts. An insectile hum that resonates off every part of your head and makes your ears bleed. I tried clawing at my head; trying to end the buzzing. Somewhere along this dreaded road all my sense of humanity had been shed. Now I was merely an animal. Words to describe things fell. Soon everything was...was....
Danger! Danger! Hard, buzzing, bloody! Strange! Twisted! Bug! Bug! Bugs! I flapped my arms as the once-human monsters swarmed me; drowning me in their despised buzz. Mandibles extended from where mouths were previously. Skin had been replaced for shells and fuzz. Eyes had become large black orbs; thirsty for flesh. My flesh.
I broke through the crowd off insects and took off sprinting down the road. The back-pack was torn off my body by the greedy jaws of an Ant, insectile wings beat my head and shoulders; their owners producing more and more of that buzz. A man hopped alongside me with the legs of a grasshopper, a woman with the head and arms of a praying mantis clawed at my ribs. A child of no more than eight slithered along on a thousand clattering little legs. What kind of world was this? Why would anyone want to remain here?
Then, just as soon as it all began everything stopped. I grinned. The buzz was gone. Come to think of it, I couldn't hear anything. The grasp of the insects was gone; though now I could't feel a thing. In confusion I looked around and saw that the congregation had backed off. Why? Then my head lowered and noticed the six-foot scorpion tail protruding in a bloody swath from my chest. My vision darkened at the corners. So this was how it all ended.
When we think of our deaths we either feel compelled to prevent it, or accept it if we can die with meaning. Hadn't somebody written a poem about that? Something about fire and ice; would you rather live forever and change nothing, or exist for a heart-beat and change the world irreversibly? Neither seemed appealing. To watch these hideous monsters destroy my world, or to change them back and leave the human race at the mercy of an unforgiving environment created by there animalistic alter forms.
Then my vision was gone and I was left to my thoughts. I tried to find meaning in these last few moments. I'm sure anyone on Earth could. Maybe that's why I had survived so long; to end the last thoughts of the human race with an unhappy tone. Oh well.
June, 2035
A lone figure was left on the high-way. A body of some man in his mid-thirties. He had a hole gorged in his chest, and had tied with a smile on his face. Weird bastard. Suddenly there was a twitch in one eye, then the other. His fingers flexed and his lips parted slightly. Slowly, as if fearing some sudden assault his eyes creaked open. For a moment they were as yours or mine. Then a strange black haze took over. Soon the man was ambling down the highway once more; his eyes were glassy obsidian orbs. His stomach was empty. It was time to feed.
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