Locket of Immunity

It’s been 528 days since the virus started. It changed the world, and not for the better. It wiped out nearly 90% of the world’s population, and those that didn’t die from it, succumbed to it.

The survivors mutated in ways we never thought possible. Some just had physical changes, like extra limbs, or their skin changed colors. Others gained abilities along with their physical changes.

Luckily for me, I have this heart locket. The wearer of this locket is immune to any effects the virus may cause, as well as accelerated healing. It makes me a target to all mutated beings; they all want it for themselves.

I’ve been moving from town to town, hiding to protect myself and the locket. I can’t lose it, it’s the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time. This place, what used to be Toronto, is rundown and filled with mutated freaks crawling about.

I’ve outrun the few that saw me, so I think it’s safe to take a break and rehydrate. I duck into an empty alley way, and peak into the dumpster, checking for any sleeping mutants.

It’s empty. I sit on the other side of it, hiding myself from the view of the street. I take my water bottle out and start to drink, some of it dribbling down my chin as I try to drink as fast as I can.

I didn’t realize I was this thirsty. Having to be so aware of my surroundings has distracted me from my personal needs. A wave of sadness washes over me; Caleb used to be here to remind me to take care of myself.

He’s gone now, and I’ll never get to see him again. I’ll cherish him forever, and everything he did for me, but I can’t stop for too long to grieve for him. I already did that when he died 176 days ago.

I hear a loud bang to my left, near the entrance of the alley. I put away my water bottle quietly, grabbing my dagger from my hip. It’s survival of the fittest out here.

I peek out slowly from behind the dumpster, seeing a man with bright blue skin and three eyeballs standing at the end of the alley. He stumbles as he walks toward me, but he hasn’t seen me yet.

Luckily, this one doesn’t have extra limbs; those ones are always the hardest to fight. They have the advantage. I don’t want to underestimate this guy though—who knows what abilities he’s hiding under that blue skin?

I move out from where I was sitting, assuming a fighting stance facing him. He stops, almost seeming startled to see me. His eyes, all three of them, travel over me, shock growing on his face.

“You’re the one,” he gasps, his voice coarse and quiet.

I narrow my eyes as him and hold the dagger out. “The one what?”

He takes a step closer, his eyes wide. “The one that has the locket. The heart-shaped locket that cures everything.”

“No, I’m not,” I lie, growling at him.

A crazy grin grows on his face. “Yes, you are. No one looks totally human anymore, so you must have the locket. Oh, what a lucky day for me.”

Now I laugh, taking a step toward him. “Lucky day? It’ll be your last day if you don’t let me pass.”

“I can’t do that; I need that locket. I need to be human again.” He frowns and lunges at me.

I quickly dodge to the right, my shoulder slamming into the hard, brick wall. The mutant stumbles past, falling behind me. Pain shoots down my arm, but in a matter of minutes any injuries will be healed.

I grip the dagger and turn to him; now he’s trapped. I could try to run, but he’ll follow me. He’ll follow me to the ends of the earth knowing that I have the locket. I have to kill him.

It’s unfortunate really. I mean, he could live decently as a mutant. He got the better end of the deal than 90% of the world; he’s still got his life.

He groans and stands, looking at me. He cracks his neck and fingers, and suddenly all the veins in his body start to pop through his skin. He grows, adding at least two inches to his height.

So, he does have abilities. This just got a lot harder for me. He seemed so clumsy and disoriented before. Clearly, he was just in his weaker form.

“Little girl, you better give me that locket before I bash your skull in.” His voice is now deep and rumbly, bouncing off the walls of the alley.

I snarl at him. “You’ll have to pry it from my cold, dead hands.”

He lunges at me again. This time I jump onto the dumpster, leaping onto his back as he runs past me. He roars in anger; I’m faster and more agile than him. I put him into a choke hold, my arms barely long enough to properly go around his neck.

His huge hands reach for my arms, trying to pull them away from his neck. I hold on with all my might, the adrenaline pumping through my veins.

He can’t free himself, so he starts flailing around. I hold on, keeping my arms tight around his neck. Suddenly, he throws himself back into a wall, crushing me between his body and the rough bricks.

I cry out in pain. The mutant tries to laugh, but sputters for air. His cheeks are starting to lose color, meaning he’s about to pass out. He throws himself backwards once more, my head slamming into the wall.

I hear a crack and feel dizzy, but I don’t loosen my grip. If I do, he’ll kill me. As if on cue, he falls to his knees, then onto his face. He no longer struggles against me; he doesn’t move.

I release his neck and reach for the back of my head. My hand is covered in blood. The sight makes me nauseous. I take a deep breath and steady myself; in a few minutes, the injury will be healed.

I raise the dagger and plunge it into the mutant’s back. Over, and over, and over again. I have to make sure he doesn’t follow me or tell anyone my whereabouts. I stand, brushing my clothes off.

I reach for the locket around my neck, pulling it from under my shirt. I run my thumb over it; knowing it’s still there calms me.

I open the locket and read the engraving again. 32 Mirala St, Brampton ON. I’ve been travelling to get to this location; I need to know what’s there. Maybe more lockets, maybe an actual cure.

On the other side, there is a picture of an old woman and a young child, a girl. It’s an old photo, likely from long before the virus started. A grandmother and her grandchild.

I can still smell her blood every time I look at the locket. It’s a shame I had to kill her. I would have allowed her to live if she’d handed it over. Instead, she cried and begged for me not to take it, to let her keep the locket her grandmother gave her.

I didn’t care though. Out here, ever since the start of the virus, it’s been survival of the fittest. I killed her and took the locket with no mercy. If she couldn’t protect it, she didn’t deserve it.

Caleb wasn’t happy with me when he found out I killed her. He called me cold and heartless and a monster. He wanted me to throw the locket away. He wanted me to live happily ever after with him as a mutant.

I couldn’t do that though; I couldn’t stay a mutant. I killed Caleb too. He wouldn’t have let me keep it, so he had to be thrown away, just like he suggested I do to the locket.

I touch the back of my head and bring my hand down. There’s no blood this time. I’ve healed already. I pull the dead mutant behind the dumpster, hiding him from the street’s view.

I grip the locket tightly before putting it back under my shirt. No one will take this from me. I start to leave the alley, a small wave of guilt washing over me as I walk away from another person I’ve killed.

Sometimes I feel remorseful that I had to take two innocent lives for a necklace, and many more since obtaining it. Then, I remember why I did it.

I did it for me. I did it for my future and my happiness. Even though I loved Caleb, I had to put myself first; his disapproval was just incentive to kill him.

There’s always been one rule I live by; put myself first, as everyone else will just let me down. People will always choose their own wellbeing over someone else’s, especially nowadays.

I grip the dagger and repeat the rule over and over as I leave the alley. I will always put myself first.

I will always put myself first.

I will always put myself first.