An Invader injected a thick, black liquid into Kelly’s arm. She gritted her teeth against the pain. “The change will begin soon,” it said. “Until you are transformed, you will be vulnerable. Survive. Kill. Then join us and rule.” It pushed Kelly into her house, and a force field hummed to life behind her.
Her whole body felt shaky–weak. The world swam around her as the retrovirus started its work.
“Kelly?” her mother came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “What’s going on?”
Her mother’s eyes went to Kelly’s arm–to the injection site, where her skin was already gray. Her face twisted in fear and sorrow.
Kelly bolted up the stairs.
#
She huddled in the closet and fought not to gag on the cloying scent of mothballs. She pulled an old fur coat off of its hanger and curled up beneath it. Shivers wracked her body, and her arm ached.
She needed a plan. The closet was a terrible hiding place, and she needed to stay out of sight until her transformation was complete. She wanted to survive. She wanted to join the Invaders. She was tired of being powerless.
She heard her mother’s footsteps over erratic thunder of her own heart. She held her breath as the steps grew closer.
Then they receded.
She couldn’t stay here.
After a few minutes, Kelly risked cracking the door open. Her mother had left a plate sitting in the hallway. It was covered with a blue-and-white checked dishtowel. Kelly knew she should leave it–shouldn’t leave a trace that she’d been here.
She found two razor blades and a bottle of pills under the towel. And a note: “Think of your brother and sister.”
Kelly trembled. She reached toward the plate, then snatched her gray, elongated hand back and slumped into the closet.
#
The ache from the injection spread through her whole body. She licked her dry lips, and sharp teeth sliced her tongue open. An instant later, her joints twisted and reformed. Her knees and elbows popped, and her spine arched backward. She fought not to scream past teeth suddenly too big for her mouth. She couldn’t breathe. Cool, oily blood filled her mouth. It tasted wrong–too salty and without the tang of iron. It was more like brine than blood.
Her jaw shifted with a wrenching pop. Her wounds closed.
She wasn’t weak anymore. But the thought of killing her mother, brother, and sister was almost enough to make her consider taking those pills.
But not quite.
Her stomach gurgled, and something inside her moved. Raw hunger washed over her in waves. She scrambled out the closet.
She scattered the pills and grabbed a razor blade in each hand. Her claws weren’t long enough to do real damage yet, but these would do nicely. She sniffed the towel and picked up her mother’s scent.
She tracked her to the basement. Her mother stood at the foot of the stairs, clutching a shotgun. It trembled in her grip.
Kelly’s brother and sister cowered behind her.
“How did you get a gun?” Kelly asked. Her voice sounded strange–deeper and raspy. Like one of their voices. The sound sent shivers down her spine. This was really happening.
They’d really picked her.
Her mother brought the weapon up to her shoulder. “It was my father’s. I hid it down here.”
“Just in case–this?” Kelly gestured to her changed body, and the razor blades in her hands glinted.
Her mother stared at her. Tears shone in her eyes. “Kelly, please.”
“Please what? Kill myself so you can live?” Kelly grinned, baring her teeth. “If you want me dead, you’ll have to do it yourself.”
Her mother closed her eyes and squeezed the trigger.
Kelly dodged to the side. The gunshot rang in her ears, and buckshot tore at her arm. She roared in pain and charged down the stairs.
She swatted the gun out of her mother’s hands and swiped a razor blade across her throat. Blood gushed into Kelly’s face. It smelled sweet.
Her siblings screamed. Her brother reached for the gun.
Kelly ripped his arm off. Her sister rushed at her, and Kelly picked her up and threw her into the wall. Bones snapped.
She bent over the corpses and started to feed. The wrenching hunger in her gut eased.
She stood up and looked down at the bodies.
She walked up the stairs, and the barrier at the door fell at her touch.
She walked out to join her new family. To rule.
—
Jamie Lackey lives in Pittsburgh with her husband and their cat. She has had over 140 short stories published in places like Beneath Ceaseless Skies, Apex Magazine, and Escape Pod. Her debut novel, Left-Hand Gods, is available from Hadley Rille Books, and she has two short story collections available from Air and Nothingness Press. In addition to writing, she spends her time reading, playing tabletop RPGs, baking, and hiking. You can find her online at www.jamielackey.com.
Well, if you can’t lick ‘em join ‘em. Good sci-fi horror.