The Transforming

The path that led me through the woods was one of the quieter walks of the week. There was nobody around me. It’s just how I preferred it. Since The Transforming three months ago, I had reason to seek as much solitude as possible. I needed time to process everything and get it all journaled. I had never witnessed anything so strange, even if it was my second time seeing it.

My research into the ‘event’ had turned up fruitless. I had combed through every book in the Reverence Hall, including the History Holder. Nothing talked of the origins of the whole event. I felt, perhaps for the first time in my life, that I had failed my vocation. I always found the truth. I was good at it. But stumbling upon this town five years ago in the middle of nowhere made me wonder if this is what all my previous work had prepared me for. The mystery that no one could solve. The one that just was.

I refused to believe it. This could be solved. I would do it, no matter how long it took. There was a rustle of leaves behind me and I whipped around quickly, my heart racing. A small rabbit hopped out a bush behind me and made for the distance, as far away from me as it could get. I sighed. I felt as though I should have done the same thing when The Transforming happened. My problem was that goddamn itch to dig into this further and find out why this was happening.

I turned to continue walking after watching the rabbit hop away and nearly jumped out of my skin. Standing in front of me was one of the Transformed. This one had clearly escaped the Capture. It happened as soon as the Transforming was over, where any able-bodied member of the village would hunt and seek out those who had Transformed. Usually it wasn’t hard to catch them as they usually ran towards those who hadn’t turned, desperate to tear into them. They had a bunker in which they kept the Transformed; keeping them locked up until they died was better than the villagers becoming murderers.

It’s skin was grey and pallid, face covered with blisters and sores that oozed a greenish blood, as well as scratches. The eyes were still yellow but now clouded over, as though the creature had lost its sight. Drawn-out, rasping wheezes kept me frozen to the spot, knowing that if it heard me, I’d be dead. I would need to move quickly. I took a slow and small step back, gently placing my foot on the dirt path below me. It hadn't been heard. I attempted another. And another. I would have made it away easily enough but I failed to notice the tree root protruding from the earth behind me. I had refused to turn my back to the beast. The result of that was the loud crash as I landed hard on the ground.

It’s head instantly turned and it moved automatically towards the sounds, towards me. I could hear the rhythmic growl in it’s chest as it came for me, arms raised and claws stretched, ready to rip into my body. I scrambled backwards without looking behind me and found my back had hit the very tree that had decided to become my bane. I felt around my belt for the small dagger I had started carrying there, at the behest of the villagers, should I ever need to defend my life. I hadn’t wanted it. But I understood the more I panicked.

It leapt. I managed to grasp the hilt and pulled, releasing it from its sheath and held it point up. I felt the creature collide with my hand and land on the dagger, all the while it gnashed it's horrendous teeth and tried to claw at my face. It succeeded in giving me three large scratches that ran down my forearm, dripping with blood, the smell of which drove the creature into even more of a frenzy. I managed to get my leg up between me and the creature and kicked hard, holding onto my dagger while the creature flew back with the force, landing on its back. The head or the heart, I remembered. I dropped the dagger and seized a sizable chunk of rock that lay on the ground, raising it before I used all my strength to bring it down on the creature's head.

The sickening crunch of it’s skull being caved in horrified me. I felt bile rising in my throat as I brought it down once again for good measure, watching bits of brain and blood flying everywhere, some landing on my hair and cheek, blood blossoming around the now crushed head of the Transformed. It smelt vile. Once Transformed, their bodies started to rot immediately so the only thing that ever seemed to keep them going was the constant craving for flesh. So they were technically already dead. That knowledge did nothing to console me as I turned away from the body, retching and spluttering.

I heard crashing through the undergrowth as feet came running towards me. I crawled to where my dagger lay forgotten and picked it up, holding it in front of me, ready for another attack. Instead it was Arthur and Morag crashing into view, their faces appalled at the sight they had stumbled onto.

“What happened, Writer?” Arthur grimaced as he moved towards me, avoiding the carnage and pulling me off the ground, helping me to stand. I winced as I felt a shooting pain travel up my leg from my ankle. Twisted.

Morag kept guard, her back to us while looking around the forest, keeping an eye out for any more of the Transformed.

“I was just out walking. I would have gotten away but I didn’t see the root. It heard me when I fell.” I said.

Morag turned to face me, “You’re lucky. Most people don’t usually survive an encounter with one of the Transformed unless they know how to handle them. You got really lucky.”

She wrapped my arm over her shoulders and helped me walk back to the village while Arthur stayed behind to see if he could get rid of as much of the mess as possible. This was going in the journal. It was clear their deterioration continued until they lost their sight and possibly more. Did they just rot away into nothingness, until they were just a pile of bones lying on the ground? I would need to see. I needed to learn more about the process. About everything.

Morag sniffed. “You smell like shit, Writer. We’ll get you cleaned up and then we can present the news of this attack to the Council of the Prepared.

I wasn’t looking particularly forward to explaining myself to a bunch of old coots. I was curious about what they would say.