Day Sixty-Nine

Day 69: 09 Oct 2010

Watching Cassie sleep peacefully through her transformation reminds me of my own change, six years ago now. My transformation was anything but peaceful, though.

It was also anything but intentional. I wasn't supposed to get the slug. I wasn't even supposed to be there. I was in Los Angeles to meet a guy about a cargo ship job. He said to meet him in Long Beach. I must have gotten my buildings confused, because I sure as hell strolled into the exact wrong place at the wrong goddamn time.

There were four men in the warehouse. Three of them were wearing suits -- I could see them through the open door when I parked. They looked businesslike -- maybe like they were waiting to interview someone for a job -- so in I walked. That's when I saw guy #4.

He was a young guy, maybe 22. They had him duct-taped to a chair, and one of the suits was walking towards him with a duffel bag. The suit opened the bag and pulled out a big glass jar full of water -- something was thrashing around inside. He took off the lid slowly.

That's when one of the suits noticed me.

"Shit. My bad," I said, backpedaling. "I saw nothing."

The lid hit the floor. Before anyone could move, something leaped out of the jar, crossing the room in an instant. I opened my mouth to yell in surprise. That was a mistake.

The slug forced its way down my throat, and the change was underway.

It was a violent two weeks. Painful. Maddening. And when I came out the other side, I was no longer in control. The slug was controlling my body and mind completely. I was little more than a passenger, watching as he dutifully used me to kill, maim, destroy whatever they pointed him towards.

When Cassie woke just before midnight, she showed no sign that the change had been tough on her at all. In fact, she smiled.

"How do you feel?" I asked.

"Out-fucking-standing," she laughed. "Now. . . let's get to work, shall we?"