FSE

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How long had it been since he’d been home, Tony Hendrix pondered as their SUV winded through the suburban streets to their home. His father Jack was at the wheel while his mother Terrie was scanning the area nervously. Tony was in the back seat, bundled up in a bed sheet that covered his entire body and face. Peeking through the makeshift shroud he saw the scene before him through the window. It was June, summer was starting and the sky was blue and cloudless. Families were out doing their activities now that the sun was out and warming the air. Kids were playing on the sidewalk or riding their bikes along the road while parents were out either gardening, mowing the lawn, or conversing with their neighbors and friends. It was a picturesque scene, just what you would expect for a slice of Americana.

As their car moved in closer, things started to change. Kids stopped riding and stared at their vehicle as parents turned to also look with curiosity. Some were leaning in and muttering something while other parents ran up to grab their kids who were trying to get closer to see inside.

“Keep it slow, Jack.” Terrie quietly instructed, “Don’t want to hit anyone.”

“Any slower and we’ll be going backwards.” Jack replied.

That might not be a bad idea, Anthony thought to himself, suddenly feeling like turning around. No doubt the whole neighborhood had heard of what had happened to him, and now they were curious to see what he was looking like now. It was something he had not relished to do, but he couldn’t stay in the hospital forever.

Suddenly a cell phone pressed up to the window and a flash jostled Tony. Jack started yelling curses out the window as Terrie tried to calm him down. Soon more cell phone cameras came out and flashes were trying to take a snapshot of what was inside. Anthony buried himself in the covers more as his father started to speed up.

Tony had been one of the few who not only survived the incident, but actually had been the most adaptable of the lot from the hospital, allowing him the opportunity to leave and go home to try to restart his life; but, what kind of life could he have when everyone was going to look at him as something other than human.

Last year, Anthony had been out walking the family dog, a border collie named Delilah around the nearby dog park. He had let her off her leash to go stretch her legs and greet the other dogs when he started to feel strange. He had lost all track of time as he watched his family pet do her canine duties when he had slumped down on a bench, feeling pale and sweaty. He learned after he recovered much later that he had been discovered by other dog owners unconscious on the ground, Delilah standing next to her fallen master and whining loudly.

He had been immediately sent to the hospital, where it turned out that other people around not only town, but all over the world were suddenly suffering the same flu like symptoms and slipped into comas. Panic spread like a forest fire in all the major cities on the earth as news reports and rumors of biological attacks went rampant. Thankfully, Tony had his I.D. on him, and his parents were quickly contacted. His mother, Terrie was at home when the call from the hospital came in. She had been home from her job as a real estate broker, and when she learned of her son, she immediately contacted her husband, Jack who was still at his job in construction. The two met up at the construction site and made their way to the hospital where their son was being cared for.

When his parents had reached the hospital, they were ushered into a makeshift meeting room where other concerned friends and families had gathered. They had originally thought their son just fell ill with a flu, but after the doctors came in and told them, their fears escalated.

“Whatever is happening,” The doctor proclaimed to the assembled, “appears to be instantaneous and global. We got word from the CDC and Homeland security to put those affected under immediate quarantine.”

People erupted in either tears or accusations. Some people had to be helped after they passed out in the arms of their loved ones. Everyone else was either comforting each other or all yelling at once for answers. Jack was holding his wife tightly who was trembling with sobs. The doctor held up his hands to ask for quiet, but instead it only went down to a low roar.

“We have not been informed as to the nature of their condition,” The head physician, Dr. Langstrom offered, “and we are getting reports every hour to find out more. Until then, we need you all to remain calm and supportive of one another as we try to help your loved ones.”

“Are they going to die?” Someone questioned loudly. That alone made the crowd shush quickly.

“I won’t sugar-coat it for you.” Langstrom said dourly, “We are dealing with an unknown viral infection that is affecting your loved ones in ways we cannot seem to keep in check. Unfortunately we have reports that 1 out of 4 victims so far have died from this infection, but the majority of them are the very old or very young. Pre-teens and young adults seem to be strong enough to handle whatever is happening to them.”

A few more people erupted in anguished cries and angry outbursts, no doubt their loved ones falling into those fatal categories. Dr. Langstrom was ushered out by guards as everyone started arguing, trying to find someone who can tell them anything.

Days passed...

The death toll in the hospital alone was over 50; most of them elderly infected and only a handful of children under the age of four. It seemed like every day some family was given the horrible news and there was wailing and crying in the halls of the quarantined areas. Those that still lived were starting to suffer pain in their muscles and extremities, causing many to be sedated to help manage their agony. Anthony himself was conscious through most of his, having to take painkillers to deal with the muscle aches throughout his body. The Doctors continued to be baffled at the strange phenomenon, but started to refer to the onset of these new symptoms as ‘Stage two’ with stage one being the previous flu like symptoms.

There was no hiding this kind of outbreak, since it was being relayed all over the world through the news and social media. Internet news sites were suffering shutdowns as their sites were constantly bombarded by people trying to keep up with the latest news updates, while journalists and newspapers were frantically trying to upstage one another with the latest scoop, almost to the point of trading blows. Every media outlet and every minute was devoted to the news of the outbreak and the subsequent chaos that it spawned. Major cities in every part of the world was suffering from riots and protests: angry and scared people trying to get the government to do something about the infection. Naturally, this also sparked violence as anarchists and anti-government groups used the chaos to incite violence and protests. Everywhere on the web there was some conspiracy theorist claiming the infection was the work of the military-industrial complex to keep us afraid and dependent on them for help. Other individuals and groups were claiming this was the work of terrorist organizations like Isis or AL ‘Qaeda to sow chaos and fear in the name of their radical belief systems. Of course, this also included several religious groups who claimed that it was the wrath of their god to smite the world for its wickedness. Thankfully, many other religious groups rose above the pettiness worked to allocate money and volunteers to help the infected as well as to help the families of the infected cope with the pain of their loved ones.

Terrie, needing an outlet for her frustrations, started using Facebook to rally other mothers and wives of the infected, coming together through social media to help one another deal with the tragedy. Many of those who joined had loved ones still in the midst of the infection, while others used it to try to come to terms with their loss of children and parents who died from it. Terrie's program spawned others from around the world until it became so popular that news reporters came to interview her about the networking site that had spawned.

A few days later, reports came pouring in about a pending press conference by members of the CDC regarding the outbreak. It would be seen on virtually every channel; even the channels that never had news. Dr. Marcus Sanchez, a prominent physician and expert on diseases was the main speaker, as well as a representative from the FBI, CIA and Homeland Security. Thankfully, these men and women were brief, trying to assuage fears and call for calm as law enforcement agencies around the United States and the world were restoring order.

When Dr. Sanchez came to the lectern, everyone was silent from the people watching on the television to the reporters live at the conference. The silence had proven slightly disturbing as the doctor began.

“Esteemed reporters. Members of the medical staff and to the audience watching us around the world. I wish I could be here for something more positive.”

There was a hushed moan around the hospital room where Jack and Terrie was watching, but was quickly hushed as the Doctor continued.

“We have had extensive study from fluid samples of those infected from some of the greatest minds in the world. Never before have we seen the collective intelligence of this planet's experts in science, medicine, genetics and chemistry working so hard to understand this unique infection that has claimed nearly a tenth of the planet's population...”

“A tenth?” Jack exclaimed as others sounded equally shocked.

“Based on the research we have managed to take using technology and the expertise of thousands of experts, we have determined the cause and process of the disease we are now referring to as the M1A strain'.”

The Doctor hesitated as if to let the audience there and around the world mull over what they dubbed the new disease. It only lasted a few seconds before the Doctor spoke again.

“Information is now being transmitted to every major medical facility around the world with our findings. Also, documentation will be available at key websites on news and media sites by the end of today.” People were now pulling out their phones and frantically trying to probe the net for this documentation. Terrie herself was about to pull out her tablet when Jack held her hand.

“No use trying now.” he said, “Every website will be bogged down already with people wanting a copy of this.” They would have to wait for the doctors to get any documents to learn more. When 9/11 hit, Jack had been home with a broken leg, and had been watching the footage. He tried accessing the news sites at that time and the bandwidth had been so badly choked by similar inquiries, the news websites were soon inaccessible.

“The M1A strain,” Dr. Sanchez continued, “is what we call a 'virus vector'. It is a virus that has been genetically repurposed to alter the DNA of its victims. This one in particular is especially unique based off our findings. This virus actually goes through two stages: it first attaches itself to a host organism and extracts portions of its DNA into itself. The host is not affected and is nothing more than an immune carrier of the virus. Once complete, the virus goes into its second stage where it infects a person that carries a certain genetic marker and replaces key amino acids and genetic data of the victim's DNA with the DNA it extracts from its host at stage one. Once the virus has infected its victim, the cells replicate and the body begins the process of mutation.”

As soon as he said 'mutation', the audience started to murmur louder, both in the news conference and in the hospital.

“Mutation? What the hell is he talking about?” One man said.

“Is it going to kill my husband?” Another woman wailed.

As if hearing the cries of the people in the hospital, Dr. Sanchez held up his hands for quiet. “We can tell you this much about this particular strain. One: There is no sign of further infection present in the current population. Only those particular people with the genetic marker it seeks are infected. That being said--number two--we have seen that no other people have shown infection since the initial wave. We can only assume that anyone who is prone to infection has already been infected by the strain and there is no other fear of any further sickness.”

That did little to alleviate Jack and Terrie as they held each other’s hands. Their only son was still one of the infected--what was it going to do to him?

Dr. Sanchez seemed to collect himself, taking a deep breath before continuing. “Unfortunately, we have no idea what the strain is doing to those who have been infected. We have surmised that the initial stages of infection, commonly termed as stage one and two, are periods where the body is resisting the DNA that has been inserted into the victim. The victim either will die from the physical strain on their cellular structure, suffering massive organ failure and death, or their bodies will accept the change and enter what we are calling 'stage three'.”

Jack felt Terrie's hand squeeze his tighter as they both listened. He himself felt like he couldn't process any more of what the doctor was saying.

“Stage three indicates that the host body will undergo a metamorphosis as the new DNA is incorporated into the host organism. It is too soon to say what will happen, but we can only speculate that those that make it to stage three will survive the infection and their bodies will change according to however the strain is programmed to do.”

“Programmed to do?” someone barked from the hospital room, “You mean someone made this thing?”

“Jesus Christ!” someone remarked, “Who could have done something like this?”

Everyone tried to hush the frustrated people as the Doctor finally welcomed questions from the reporters.

“Doctor, what will happen to those that make it through stage three?”

Dr. Sanchez shook his head, “We aren't sure. There might be nothing physically noticeable about them, but at this moment, we haven't a clue.”

Another reporter stood, “You keep saying 'assume' and 'speculate'. Does this mean you have no idea what is really going on?”

The Doctor removed his glasses and sighed, “I won’t lie to you.” he said somewhat sounding more deflated. “We are dealing with a class of genetic manipulation centuries ahead of its time. Finding out what we did is a miracle in of itself. We have no idea who or what created this virus, but it tells us two things: one, it was manufactured by someone with technology far superior to anything we have here on earth now; and two, we have only now scratched the surface of what this strain is going to do to our loved ones.”

“Are you saying that this could be the work of a rogue nation or even something extraterrestrial?” No one shouted the reporter down for his obviously radical query.

“I'm not an expert in aliens or conspiracy theories.” Dr. Sanchez replied, “I can only state what I know of my own expertise. This is the work of a genius intelligence far superior of our own. Whoever it is, I haven't the slightest idea.”

Another reporter asked, “Is there a chance that this can be reversed?”

“No. Again, we're talking about advanced genetic technology. It would take us decades to even grasp what happened, and even if we could find a way to reverse it, the results of these victims suffering another 'infection' to cure themselves would prove too great a strain on their bodies. We could risk significant genetic abnormalities, deformities, or death from organ failure and shock. Best we can do is to pray that those infected can weather whatever is happening to them and provide them whatever comfort we can.”

It had been nearly a month before the infected showed any significant signs of moving to stage three. By then, several more had died from the trauma; heart attacks and their bodies simply unable to handle the shock. Those that survived suddenly started to regain normal vital signs. Normal in that they were still elevated beyond a normal human, but they were no longer feeling pain like before. They were experiencing mostly discomfort which the doctors attributed to lingering after-effects of stage two; but, what caught the doctors off guard was what the patients now were requesting.

“I'm starving!” Tony said after waking up that morning. He was ravenous, and no amount of hospital food was going to satisfy him. All the patients were complaining of being starved and craving lots of food. Even those who were vegans were craving actual meat and were eating them voraciously. Stockpiles of food were provided by family members and charity groups at the local hospital, while all over the world, the same phenomenon was happening to others who had survived to stage three. By the third day, the doctors began administering fluids to help the infected who were still strangely hungry. Tony's dad went to the local GNC and bought several large canisters of protein shake powder, which seemed to help Tony quell his gnawing hunger. Other people began doing the same, using nutrient and whey powder to supplement the infected need for nourishment.

“Dad?” Tony said after his fourth glass of the faux chocolate protein shake, his face pale and sweaty. “What’s going on with me?”

Jack relayed what he had heard as best he could to Tony who sat upright in the hospital bed with a look of shock and confusion. This was the most lucid that he had been since he was admitted to the hospital, and now he was quickly getting up to speed; yet, the more his father tried to explain, the more perplexed he became.

“I’m not going to die, am I?” Tony said with a level of dread in his voice.

“No!” His father had said that with a lot more force than he expected, and was emphasizing it by grabbing his son’s shoulder and squeezing it tight, “You’re a Hendrix, son, and we don’t go down over a stupid virus.”

By the fourth day, all the patients eventually seemed to be sated, and that's when the final stage set in. The pain had returned, but this time it was more manageable to the patients: just a dull aching throughout their bodies. What was truly traumatizing was what happened to their bodies shortly after. Each one of the infected started losing hair, nails and teeth, as if their bodies had suddenly just shed them off. Tony coughed up blood along with his teeth and his brown hair fell out in big clumps while his parents watched in renewed horror at their son's change. Everyone else was the same; their bodies wracked with new pain as their bones and muscles started to change at an accelerated rate. Some of the people cried, screamed or went catatonic, trying and sometimes failing to cope with the sudden loss.

The doctors had figured that they were at the stage where their bodies had accepted the altered DNA, their immune systems no longer rejecting the foreign material and mitosis was quickly causing that DNA to be overwritten throughout the body. It had been understood that the human body can completely replace most of its cells in a few days to several months, but now the process was happening at a rate that can only be considered unnatural. IV’s were shipped in from distribution centers all over the state as the sudden rise of their metabolisms caused their bodies to sweat profusely and many were unable to replenish fluids fast enough when feeling intensifying pain. Even so, still more people died as rushed fluids and nutrients to help sustain them could not come fast enough to meet the alarming rate of consumption.

When the full scope of what was happening became apparent, the Doctors instructed the staff to ban all cameras and news crews from the emergency room and hospital wards. Mirrors and any reflective surfaces were removed, and anyone with cell phone cameras were quickly told to keep them out of the patient’s rooms. It was well understood why as those that watched their loves ones change before their eyes that they didn’t want some heartless visitor to be sending out YouTube videos of what was happening.

As if they were being shaped by invisible hands, the victims’ bodies began to morph and stretched as their forms began to change with a speed unexpected. Bones popped and cracked as mouths and noses protruded grotesquely. Skin stretched to near tearing as the internal structures of their skulls changed and grew in odd shapes. Ears stretched and seemed to change position as the skulls of the infected began to physically move to accommodate the new DNA instructions. Victims tried to scream in pain and fear, but many could only gurgle as their tongues and vocal chords were restrung. Hands and feet stretched and curled as bones grew and muscles tightened, some elongating to vicious clawed paws while others seemed to grow together, forming hands with barely three fingers. Many others writhed and bent in agonizing positions, their skeletal structure altering and their vital organs practically shifting within to adapt to their altering form. When they started to see what looked like tails growing from the pelvic regions of those infected, the true nature of the virus became evident. The infected were changing into something that no longer could be truly considered human.

“My baby!” Terrie finally shrieked one night as she watched fur start to grow rapidly all over Tony's pain wracked body, “What's happening to my baby?” Jack grabbed her and held her, hoping to silence her growing hysteria. The changes were happening so fast that at one point Tony barely looked like he was a toy plastic soldier who spent too long being melted by a young boy with a magnifying glass and a summer sun. He rushed her out of the room as the nurses came in trying to help keep Tony and the other patients stable. Painkillers were becoming scarce and many of the victims were practically becoming immune to them as their bodies twisted in ugly configurations. Tony growled and gurgled a guttural cry of pain, fingers curled into clawed fists as flesh grew taut over a body that quickly expanded and swelled in size. Terrie’s sobs were not nearly as loud as the sound of his son who thrashed and cried out in agonizing torment.

More infected died from these transformations, the changes causing damage to the body so fast that the shock killed them outright. Every day was grief as another family lost someone, while everyone else lived like they would be next. Law enforcement and military forces were deployed in all the major cities of the world, setting up martial law as anticipated mayhem was coming. Thankfully, it didn't come as bad as they expected this time. Now there was just too many people grieving loved ones while the rest prayed and waited, struggling with fear and frustration for the rest of the infected.

Naturally, the news media and government bodies pointed their fingers at genetic research labs. It was their fault, the reporters would exclaim, these so called scientists were playing god with our lives and now had unleashed an apocalyptic genie out of its lamp that couldn't be put back in. Christian fringe groups joined with Muslim groups in a unique partnership to protest and attack abortion clinics, claiming they were murdering unborn children to use as genetic material for their unholy acts. Others tried to call for calm, but fear and uncertainty was even more contagious than the plague, and thanks to social media, that plague was now airborne.

Jack went to see one of the doctors after putting Terrie in the hands of friends they had made at the hospital. He was beyond enraged now and had to do something. He couldn't let his own son suffer and possibly die without fighting back. He found a cluster of doctors and he picked one off, grabbing him by the collar and slamming him to the wall. Everyone else quickly rushed in to try to pull Jack off, but he was fueled by frustration and exhaustion.

“Do something you son of a bitch!” Jack roared in the frightened doctor's face, spit sprinkling on his face. “Save my son!”

“We're doing the best we can!” A nurse exclaimed

“That's not good enough!” Jack retorted loudly, slamming the doctor against the wall. “You're got all this technology and smarts! So do something to save my son!”

A thick hand grabbed Jack's shoulder and gripped so tightly that fingers dug in between his shoulder blade and collar bone. Pain shot through his shoulder and radiated down his arm. His grip loosened just enough that another meaty hand wrenched his wrist loose and threw him down on the ground. Jack fell hard and shuddered, gripping his injured arm as he tried to regain himself.

A rough looking man in a black suit and tie stood over him, gun drawn and pointed at Jack's face. He had on dark sunglasses and an earpiece in one ear. What was a secret service agent doing at a town hospital? Had the crisis been that bad that the CIA and FBI mobilized agents? Several other men rushed in as the doctors recovered.

“Stand down, sir.” The agent said, holding the gun steady between Jack's eyes.

Rage and pain melted away in the moment of realization and Jack fell back on the ground and choked on his bitterness.

“Why can't you do anything for my boy?” he blubbered between sobs, “He's my only child...my only child...”

A woman in a nurse's scrubs walked up and placed a hand on the agent's gun, “Put that thing away before I wind up making you eat It.” she said in a very stern matter, “We got enough patients here as it is without adding a gunshot victim to the roster. Jack later found out that it was the head nurse of the hospital, a matronly looking woman with chestnut brown hair streaked with a few strands of grey on her weathered but strong face.

“Nurse, I...” the agent began to protest, but he stared into the nurses eyes--cold, harsh and intimidating--and relaxed slightly.

“This is my hospital.” The Head nurse intoned, “I don't care about the doctors a whit, so what I say goes here. Now put that gun away.”

Jack was too busy feeling helpless to even watch what was going on, but eventually a strong feminine hand took his by the wrist and helped him up.

“Sir,” The nurse said, kneeling next to him, “We all understand what you're going through right now...”

“No you don't...” Jack said, wiping his nose across his sleeve, “My boy...”

“Don't give me that junk, mister.” she said sourly, “We DO understand. The doctors have been busting their asses nonstop for months now, some being without sleep for days. We're dealing with something we can't cure or treat. All we can do is make them as comfortable as possible and hope they come through this alive.”

Jack's head slumped down and he shivered. “I feel so helpless...”

The nurse helped up Jack who stood on shaky legs, “As are we. You have any idea what it's like to try to keep hundreds of infected alive with neither rest or even less idea what's happening to them?”

The words hit Jack's awareness hard. He had been watching the news so much to distract his mind that he started to believe a lot of the hype and hysteria; thinking that the doctors knew how to cure their loved ones, but were just hiding it from the public. He had let himself be caught in the current of the nut jobs and feeling himself so useless that he lost his senses.

“I...I'm sorry...” Jack finally said, “I don't know what...”

“I know exactly what you did.” The nurse said helping Jack to a nearby bench. She gestured the agent away with a hand, “You were trying to help your boy the only way you thought you could.”

Jack couldn't look at the woman in the eye, his embarrassment and shame too fresh. The best he could do was look at the pin on her breast and the name Linda Anderson on it.

“What do I do now, Linda?” He asked still not able to look her in the face.

“First off.” Linda began, “Is clean yourself up. You can't go back to your wife looking like that.”

She handed him a tissue and he used it to clean his nose and eyes. His rage fled now, he was now left in a quickly forming state of depression that threatened to totally wipe him out. He was emotionally drained and felt like if he went any further into this state, he would be no good to anyone--especially his family.

“You need to stay strong, sir.” The nurse spoke up, apparently reading his mind. “You can't go falling apart now when your family needs you the most.”

She was right of course, Jack finalized in his mind. He sat up straighter, inhaling deep to regain some level of composure. He finally looked up at the kind gray eyes of the head nurse and he smiled somewhat weakly.

“Thank you...And I'm...sorry...about the doctor...”

Linda smiled broadly, “You wouldn’t be the only parent who tried to take a swing at a doctor today or any day lately. Just remember...you do that again, and you better hope the agent shoots you.” Her hand gripped his tightly and he winced, “I have access to some stuff that will make a gunshot wound feel pleasant.”

Jack looked at her with shock, and realized something. How many days had this lady been without sleep herself? If it was what he thought by the bags under her eyes, he would definitely take her threat seriously. Everyone was on edge and haggard from the crisis; so, Jack promised himself he would be more cordial and cautious next time.

Three month passed and while the infected had suffered the first month with pain, the final two months went with very little pain and discomfort. Their new bodies were now fully formed and soon new teeth, nails--if you can call them nails, and hair had grown back more. Those that had survived were now appearing as something no one could understand, and many were just now becoming fully aware of what they went through and were trying to absorb what they had become.

Where once were humans writhing in pain and agony, now were creatures that could be only seen as some sort of humanoid animal. Their bodies were still human in structure: head, arms and legs; but, what was left looked very little from human. Everyone who had been infected now had a face and skull similar to some sort of animal, their bodies covered in fur, scales and even feathers depending on the species they became. Simple rounded ears were now large ears, either pointed like a cat or dog, or large like a rabbit's. Those who changed into some amalgam of bird or reptile had no ears, but had some sort of membrane on the sides of their heads to simulate ears. Teeth that had been forced out were now replaced with brand new ones; some flat, others sharp and fanged. Noses and mouths were contorted into muzzles or beaks of various sizes and styles. Heads were regrown new hair that either was a form of mammal like hair follicles, some sort of reptilian webbing, or downy crowns of feathers. Hands were now large and covered in fur, some having sharp claws where fingernails once were while others had some fingers merge together into some mix of fingers and hooves. The lower bodies were the most dramatic, as everyone had some form of a tail based on the species of beast they had adapted into, and their legs were like the hind legs of an animal, the feet elongated in ending on the balls of their feet in a look like they were on their tip-toes. Each infected person seemed to have changed into a particular species of animal human hybrid: Dog, cat, rodent, rabbit and reptiles. Some had even changed into large birds or horses, their bodies elongated and thick with new muscles and appendages. Those that had turned into some sort of bird either had feathered wings protruding from their arms or even had wings growing out of their backs and feathers all over their bodies.

Many of those affected by the virus had far more dramatic changes than others. Terell Smits who came in as a skinny African-American, had awakened to find himself having his body shift to be slightly more muscular, but with the fur, face and tails of his pet Persian back home.

“Holy shit!” Terell exclaimed, paws pressed on his cheek in disbelief, “I'm white!”

Jack and Terrie both were alarmed at what was once a short stocky young man with blue eyes and sandy brown hair a few months ago. Now they were seeing a creature a good seven feet tall, muscular and broad chested, and looking like their pet Border collie. Tony's face was sleek with ears that folded slightly over his head. Thick luxurious fur covered his body, flaring in a snow white crest of fur on his chest. His nose was like a canine's: black and wet, tipped on a pure white muzzle that stretched out prominently, the white fur forming a stripe that went along between his legs and just over the top of his head. What was once dirty brown hair was now a thick wavy mass of pitch black head fur that went down to his shoulders.

Sitting on the edge of his hospital bed, Tony looked down at his hands, curling and flexing them as if he couldn't grasp the fact that they were real or that they were his own. His hands were now large fingered hands in short white fur, rough leathery pads on the tips and palm, and tapered black claws on the tip. He turned his hands around then looked down at his feet, the foot elongated strangely so that his toes were now a short paw.

“I look like...Delilah.” Tony said in bewilderment, his voice even changed into something more husky and deep. He looked up at his human parents, his blue eyes now icy blue in hue. “What's going on?”

Terrie reached out and stroked her son's cheek, surprised that the fur was soft and fluffy in her fingers. “The Doctors did everything they could, sweetie.”

“I'm a freak!” Tony barked, flinching from her mother's touch. “I'm not even human!”

His father's firm hand gripped his shoulder and Tony looked up to see his father's face which was now more timeworn than he had remembered, “You're still my son, Tony. Regardless of what you look like, you are still my boy.”

Jack was doing everything he could now to be that solid rock that he wanted to be. He had to be stronger than when he attacked the doctor that day. The nurse's words echoed into his awareness: Be strong for your family.

“Do you feel pain anywhere, dear?” Terrie asked with concern. Her hand reached out and stroked her son’s hand, surprised at how soft the fur on it felt.

Anthony did a quick inspection, flexing muscles in his arms and hands as well as rotating certain joints. “No…” He replied, “In fact, I feel pretty good now.” He looked down at his unclothed torso and noticed he was actually flat and toned the white fur doing little to disguise the strong abdominal muscles.

“How long have I been here?” he asked as he ran his hand across his midriff.

“Five…six months?” Terrie considered.

“Six months?” Tony clenched his stomach and considered. He was no expert, but being bedridden for over half a year should not have made him buff. He wondered if the exertion and pain his body went through also did more than any ab-crunching workout could ever do in so little time. It wasn’t a bad thing though, considering the drawback that now he looked like someone’s pet dog more than a jock.

Not long after, the doctors had spoken saying that Tony and the others had weathered through the worst of the infection, and now they would have to deal with the psychological aspect of these transformations. Tony had went through the majority of the stages far better than most. Some had gone berserk with rage and fear, forcing some to be subdued by force and sedated. Others mentally fell apart and slipped into catatonic states or began to detach emotionally from everyone. Many of the transformed around the world went through the same stages of anxiety, fear, trauma and emotional separation. Thankfully only a few committed suicide, their minds unable to process what had happened and being unable to cope.

Some who had went through the transformation however went the polar opposite. Sure they went through the act of denial and disbelief, but some actually liked what had happened to them.

“I'm so cute!” Said one young teenage girl who was now a humanoid rabbit, her fur white and fluffy. Tony had been walking around to try to get used to his new legs when he noticed the teenage girl posing with her top open in front of a mirror. He had stopped short as he watched the girl turn this way and that, her reflection showing her shifting her facial features from adorable, sexy to pouting.

Finding it somewhat amusing, Tony stifled a laugh which made the girl suddenly whirl about in embarrassment. “Hey!” She said with a mix of shock and shyness. It wasn’t until Tony suddenly turned around fast to stop looking at her that she quickly realized she had turned on him with her front fully exposed. She yelped and quickly covered her shirt over her chest, the long bunny ears flattening behind her head.

There was an awkward moment between the two before Tony glanced over his shoulder at her. “S-sorry.” He said.

Another awkward pause then, “It’s ok…” the young girl rabbit said meekly, “I should have put the curtains up.”

“I…I-If it helps,” Tony stammered, “I think you’re cute too.” It felt odd that he had said that, but even more so when he felt his ears swivel back and flatten on his head in response to his embarrassing statement.

“Thanks” She said with a more cheerful tone. She took a step closer to Tony and held out a dainty paw, “I’m Helen.”

Anthony’s hand enveloped hers. “Tony…”

With the awkward moment past, Tony and Helen both began to compare notes. Helen had also graduated from another high school the time she got infected. Her family owned a small farm on the outskirts of town where they raised an assortment of animals. Helen’s personal favorite was her rabbits, some were raised for meat, but others she picked out to raise for shows and contests at the state fair.

“Don’t you think that’s kind of funny?” Tony mentioned as they walked around the ward, “You changing into a rabbit?”

“I figured it was logical.” She replied, “I changed into an animal I’ve grown up around all my life, just like you.”

That had occurred to Tony as well, who looked down at his hands again. What would Delilah think of him now that he looked a lot like her now?

Hector Sanchez, another of the survivors who had turned into a wolf was strutting around the hospital with nothing more than a pair of pants on, flexing his furry muscles and apparently impressed with how rugged he looked. He came across Tony and Helen and greeted them enthusiastically.

“Hola Amigos!” He said with a smarmy Hispanic access, “You two enjoying the new you's?”

“I know I am!” Helen replied with a grin.

“’I’m still getting used to mine.” Tony added.

“Dude!” Hector said incredulously, “Why so down, man! This is muy bueno, baby!” He flexed his massive biceps, the muscles evident even through his coarse grayish fur. “I’m going to have all the vampire-loving chicas after my tail now!”

Tony chuckled warmly. At least some people were adapting well to the changes.

A shriek was heard in another room that made all three turn to the sound, ears swiveling. Rushing forward, the three peered in to see a young girl shaped like some sort of lizard standing on unsteady feet. Aside from the hospital scrubs she was wearing, she was skinny like a super model, and covered head to toe in a rubbery like green skin. Her long sinewy tail curled around a post on the bed as she seemed to steady herself with her outstretched hands. She didn’t have any hair like the rest of them, but instead had a large webbed fin that went down to the back of her neck like a large Mohawk. Four unaffected people, the reptile-girl's family, and a nurse were watching and all were amazed. The older one, probably the girl’s mother, was crying and grinning at the same time.

“I can walk!” She cried out in joy. “I can feel my feet and everything!” She was now jumping about clumsily and acting as giddy as a kid at Christmas.

“Praise God!” the mother proclaimed, clutching a rosary in her trembling hands which she then kissed reverently. The others were equally joyous and the young lizard girl was hugging them all one at a time in rapture.

They had learned later that the lizard girl, Nicole Hastings, had been a paraplegic since she was four after a tragic car accident; but now, she was standing up on strong working legs. Despite her change into that of some sort of Iguana, she was more ecstatic with the fact that the damage to her body was miraculously healed.

Others who were infected had similar reactions. As more and more of the affected were regaining consciousness, many people found that diseases like cancer was gone. Other people who had paralysis or dead limbs were restored to full health and use. Even a few who had lost a limb were shocked to find that during the transformation stage, their bodies grew them a new limb as vital as their good ones. Even though they were now part animal, they cared little about that and more with the fact that they could function as normal as any other.

Tony had been more of the middle of the road. While he was unsure what to do with himself; but after a few days of reflection, he found that he felt healthier now than he had in his human form. Having this much fur and looking like a giant border collie wasn't too bad either. Tony wasn't what you would call attractive when he was human, but now a dog-lover would probably find him noble and handsome for a canine. It was the best thing he felt he could do to adapt to a bad situation.

It had taken a week of acclimation to their new forms before those who had underwent their strange transformation to start developing a bad case of cabin fever. During that week, Tony and other patients were being helped by volunteers, family members and both physical and mental therapists to help them get used to their new bodies. Counselors were on hand as well as clergy from various faiths to help as well with how they would be able to go back to their lives. A few of the patients who had adapted fairly well to their changes were finding a way to help out best by helping the others who had a harder time coping. Helen and Nicole both were especially helpful to some of the other girls who were crying and fretting over their unnatural looks.

“Just think of the new fashion ideas this will create.” Helen told one trio of girls, “I bet we'll be starting a whole new trend with accessories!” She emphasized that by pulling down on one of her long rabbit ears. "I'm curious if I can get these pierced."

Nicole had told her story about her being paralyzed and now was able to walk and run as if it never happened. It seemed to help, giving the girls a common subject to help each other deal with their changes. Before long, they had themselves and several uninfected girls, including many of the mothers talking about how they would wear earrings or putting some sort of ornament on their tails or antlers.

The men on the other hand were gathering in areas and thinking totally different things.

“How am I supposed to have sex with my wife?” one man said, his form changed into that of an Orange tabby cat. “We were going to have children. I can't expect children looking like this!”

“Can we even have kids?” A teenage boy, Robby, who was now in the form of a fox asked, “And if we can, what would they look like?”

“I don't know about you guys, “Daryl remarked, his body now the proportional size and type of a Clydesdale added, “But I can't even think of having any children if they're going to be like me? My girl would burst open like in aliens!”

“Maybe with one of the other transformed girls?” Tony had asked, “I couldn't imagine a normal girl being interested in me now.”

It had been one of the major issues among the transformed survivors: Could they have children, and if so, could they have it with the non-transformed?

“They'd have to be some kinky girls out there to want a piece of this.” Said Jared, A former zookeeper, now a bipedal leopard man, “I mean...our junk is even different!”

No one really wanted to talk about it, but now that someone did, everyone had something to say.

“No shit!” Terrel added “Not only am I bigger than I was, but my dick has barbs on it! I don’t care how kinky the bitches are! I can't have sex with a woman with this!”

“Barbs?” Tony flinched at the words. He had on occasion went to use the toilet and checked his own genitals. Instead of the usual human organ, his was now concealed in a furry sheathe like his new animal kin.

All the guys looked at Tony, “Brother,” Jared said sadly, “If you're like any other canine, which means you got a big ass knot on yours!”

“A knot?”

Jared held up his hand in a fist, “yeah, man, like a real dog's dick. The base swells up when they hit orgasm and stretch out, locking themselves in the bitch to insure they fertilize the female."

Tony cringed at the thought. “Shit. I'll be busting hips with that!”

“Especially if you and Helen are doing it.” Hector intoned.

Tony never knew he could bristle, and it was a strange sensation as he felt the fur on his shoulders suddenly rise up and tingle in rage, “Helen and I are just friends, Hector!”

“For now.” Jared replied, “But we’ve all seen you two hanging together, thick as thieves. If she’s not hanging out with the girls or Nicole, she’s with you.”

The last thing on his mind at this time was sex. He had ruminated over the questions in his mind several times when he came to after stage three ended. Even if he could have children, with his new size and shape, could he ever really do that and not cause some woman he loved serious injury? And even if he was still genetically compatible to Helen’s lapine form, what would their children be like?

"It's a natural quality with canine reproductive organs, Tony." Jared reassured, "I don't know what it would do to someone like Helen, but I wager another canine female might find it...pleasurable."

Suddenly Tony imagined his pet dog at home, then quickly shook the fantasy away before it had time to coalesce.

Robbie spoke out, “Even if Tony and Helen are doing the horizontal mambo, can we even have children?”

Hector shrugged, his wolfish muzzle curled in a sardonic grin, “I don’t know about you, Amigos, but I wouldn’t mind experimenting.”

Everyone but Tony laughed at that. It was uncertain if Hector was just making light of the situation or being serious, but it did leave a lot of questions in Tony’s mind about a future—any future—he could have; whether it was with Helen or otherwise. Their teasing did raise a thought in his mind however that he would have for some time: could he and Helen ever be more than just friends?

While still at the hospital, the news that told of how many of the survivors had changed and been trying to adapt. It was the same as at their own hospital: Trauma, suicides, emotional withdrawal, and others who accepted and welcomed the changes. Many were elated because they were miraculously healed of injuries and paralysis that had otherwise crippled them as human. Others who apparently had a love for animals actually thought they looked better in their new furry forms. Doctor Sanchez who had spoken at the onset of the crisis came back on, talking about new information at a televised press conference about what was now being called the “Moreau Strain”.

“Why Moreau?” Tony had asked.

“The Island of Dr. Moreau, I think.” A nurse explained. “It was an old book about a doctor who turned animals into humanoid creatures.” Tony made a mental note to look for that book when he got out of the hospital.

Doctor Sanchez explained that “As we had originally analyzed from before, the virus known as the Moreau Strain had extracted DNA from carriers and then would contract to those with genetic markers that the virus would then use that extracted DNA to overwrite the genetic code. We now understand that the carriers of the strain were animals, possibly close pets of the victims, though we have noticed some infected with the strain transformed into exotic animal hybrids.” The term Hybrids would be picked up and used as the new term for the infected survivors from that moment on.

It had taken about a month before some of the transformed were given a clean bill of health and offered to be sent home. By all reports, the survivors were not communicable, showed no signs of deformities other than their appearance, and were actually now healthier than when before they came in. Every survivor that seemed capable was given a battery of tests: Blood, urine, even hair and fur samples to analyze. Although the genetic makeup of their bodies were now a mix of human and animal DNA, they could not find any trace of the genetic virus that caused it. Also, after all the nurses and doctors that attended the infected showed no signs of coming down with a new wave of the disease, the patients were considered clean and the quarantine was finally lifted. That didn't give a lot of them the confidence though. Nicole, the iguana girl was one of the few who couldn't get out of the hospital fast enough with her renewed ability to walk. She was more than happy to stand there with Helen and pose for the news-people who were still crowding around the entrance. Both girls had also brought out Tony, who was somewhat reluctant to be exposed to the public, still feeling awkward about his appearance; yet, the two girls had been supportive and allowed him to be more open to the numerous cameras and microphones in his face.

“How do you feel?”

“Do you feel any different?”

“Which one is your girlfriend?”

That question made Tony's cheeks burn and was thankful he had fur on his face to hide the obvious blush. Helen and Nicole had bonded in the hospital due to them being not only in the same hospital room together, but also cause they were young girls who had overcome what many considered a crisis. Being one of the more well-adjusted males of the group, he had also become the closest thing to a guy-friend as well. Though after the pow-wow with the other men, Tony wondered if there might be something more between them.

“Not yet!” Nicole said, grabbing Tony’s arm, “But fuzzy boy here is still up for grabs if you work fast!”

“NICOLE!” Tony exclaimed as Helen grabbed his other arm and the two girls giggled. That elicited laughter among the reporters and seemed to break the coldness that permeated the impromptu interview. It was embarrassing at first, but it also seemed to shatter the thought in Tony’s heart. Nicole may have been teasing, but Helen’s reaction made him realize that Helen saw Tony as nothing more than a friend, if even that. Still, it felt nice to know someone didn’t hesitate to grab him or touch him in his current state. Perhaps there was some hope for him having a normal life after all, even if it wasn’t with Helen as a girlfriend.

After exchanging phone numbers and emails Tony and his parents had said goodbye to the girls and got into their family car. He watched as the two hybrid girls went to their own families, then hugged each other and went their separate ways. It had been one of the counselors there at the hospital that had encouraged all the survivors to stay in touch as somewhat of a support group. Tony had formed some casual friendships with some of the men and a few of the nursing staff during his time there, but it was the two energetic girl hybrids who had truly helped him come to terms with his new form. He told himself that he would immediately contact them as soon as he got home and settled in.

After a long drive home, Tony had lost most of his confidence the moment they pulled into the street to his home. It had been nearly a year since he first came down with the strange disease, and everything seemed surreal to him as his mind recounted memories of the neighborhood. All the kids were a year older and had gone on with their lives while he suffered lapses in time between unconsciousness, numbing pain and uncertainties. He pulled the bedspread he had taken from the hospital over his head, trying to hide himself while trying to drum up the courage to finally get out of the car when they got home.

Now in the present, he had wished he never left the hospital. Almost every house down the road had people out on the curb looking at their car as if there was a parade behind them. Cell phone cameras were in many of their hands, ready to upload pictures of their neighborhood oddity to the web.

“This is turning into a freaking circus!” Jack exclaimed.

“How did everyone know?” Terrie replied.

“Probably got rumors from Ms. Schmidt next door. That old bat is always spreading gossip around.”

As they turned the corner to their house, Jack stepped on the brakes hard and the car lurched to a stop.

“Dad!” Tony asked from behind, “Why’d you stop?”

He peeked over and shuddered. All around the house, a small crowd was growing of neighbors as well as a few news vans from local sources. Jack swore as he slammed his palm on the wheel.

“Damn it! They’re all over the place now!”

Terrie reached over to grab Jack’s hand, “We can’t go back now, dear.” She turned back to Tony who was now hiding under the blanket. “Son? You okay?”

He was not okay at all. He had hoped that everyone had gotten the frenzy of the past year out of their system. He had seen the news when he was recovering, seeing the aftermath of the riots, political turmoil and various pundits and talking heads spouting nonsense about the ramifications. It had all been so tiring that he was hoping that it would have blown over and he would only have to deal with a few curious neighbors. Now it was like he was being tossed into a shark tank as an evening meal.

“No.” Tony said somewhat more forcefully that he made it. Both parents turned to their son who started to pull back the blanket over his head, “I’m sick and tired of hiding.” He looked over to his father and saw his expression change from worry to resolute. He was fed up with all the fear and uncertainty. Inspired by the cheerful bravery of Nicole and Helen, he realized that he was not going to be able to hide in his house forever. Sooner or later, he would need to be seen and whether he was accepted or rejected, it was better to do it now than later.

“Alright son.” He said not hiding the swelling pride from his boy’s courage. “Let’s do this.”

Driving up to the house, reporters and onlookers kept a reasonable distance away from the vehicle but were pointing cameras and microphones towards the vehicles. Many were official, others were the usual cell phone cameras. Jack rolled down his window and roared at the crowd.

“Back up! Give us some room, dammit!”

Before any would comply, the passenger door opened quickly, nearly bowling over a reporter and her cameraman. Tony, the blanket now off, stepped out of the vehicle, displaying his powerful new canine-esque body to the crowd. Many gasped and whispered while cameras were practically shoving for position.

“Everyone!” Tony said in a commanding and surprisingly stern voice, “Please step back! I’ll give you what you want, but give my family and me some breathing room.”

The crowd started to hush down, no doubt surprised at how tall and broad Tony looked. He was almost frightening at his full height and bulk, especially wearing nothing but a pair of sweat pants that seemed to hug his heavy thighs like spandex. His chest was bare, but all that could be seen was the white and black fur synonymous with the Border collie species that had been grafted into his DNA. He held up his hands trying to silently ask for calm as his parents emerged from the car. Tony had easily a foot of height on the tallest person, and he found the strangeness of looking down on this crowd of people somewhat surreal.

“Rebecca chow, local six news,” A slender Asian woman introduced holding a microphone to her hand, “What can you tell us about your time in the hospital?” She held it out high to his face and others did the same.

“Well,” Tony started, trying quickly to come up with something to say, “I had been unconscious through most of it. When I was awake, I was either starving or in pain. Horrible pain. The transformation was frightening at first, but afterwards…” he looked down at his hands, still not sure they were his own even now. “Now…I’m just trying to come to terms with how I look now.”

“What did the doctors say about your condition?” Another reporter asked.

Tony recounted what little he was told, “Not a whole lot that I could figure out right now. I’ve been mostly dealing with what I’m going to do now that I’m home.”

“And what do you have planned?” someone asked.

He shrugged. “I’m not sure. I graduated from High school before I got sick. I had planned on attending college, but now I’m not sure if I can.”

“There is talk of some of the affected—the hybrids they call them now—to file a lawsuit for pain and suffering. Do you plan on adding to it?”

That made Tony’s canine ears perk up in surprise. The sheer stupidity of his expression and ears made a few people in the back giggle.

“Why the hell would I do that? The hospital staff and the government probably saved my life! Sure a lot of people died from the sickness and I feel horrible for them, but I’m right now just glad and grateful for their help.”

That seemed to answer that question, Tony thought as Ms. Chow came back to him. “What are you feeling right now?” She inquired.

“What do you mean?” Tony asked.

She looked him up and down, her head craned up to stare into his face. “You could be considered a creature right out of a fairy tale, Mr. Hendrix; close to being considered a wolf-man. Surely you must have been considering the results of your bizarre predicament.”

That had made Tony pause for a moment. It had been all consuming to him in the past days, but never worded exactly like that. “Bizarre predicament?” he seemed to roll that phrase openly before leaning back against the car. Everyone was staring at him, expecting some sort of explanation or answer.

Tony chose his words carefully, knowing what he said now would be probably sent all over the world via the net and the media. “Everyone I met at the hospital who had been changed was feeling the same way. Everyone was trying to figure out what they would do as well. Some of us wondered if we could have a real life again: family, lovers, and spouses. Hell, even some of us wondered if we could even have children.” He looked over the sea of faces—human faces—and felt a sense of wonder at them. Technically, he was no longer human, not anymore. He was something else entirely, and the worries and fears he was feeling were being pushed down internally. He couldn’t be a hermit all his life wondering if people would be looking at him as a carnival freak all his life. He had to do something with his life, and this would be the first step.

“I don’t know what I or any other affected person’s life is going to be like.” He said, standing up and puffing out his chest to the crowd. “All I can do is the best I can, but I can only plead with the rest of you to don’t look at me with sympathy or disgust. Let me live my life with some dignity, for the sake of not only my family, but for the sake of the humanity that I still have within me. Give us all us hybrids that much, please: give us a chance to have a life.”

He had never been a wordsmith and public speaking always made him sick to his stomach, but now he was surprised by his own oration and the effect it had on the crowd. It wasn’t all that heroic or inspiring, but perhaps it was the fact that the words were coming from a seven foot tall canine creature that some would consider mythical or alien. Regardless, his words seemed to have calmed the crowd down and brought them from loudly speaking over each other to quiet and respectful mumbling.

After a battery of more questions from the reporters, now more subdued than before, Tony thanked everyone for coming and their support in this time of crisis. He wasn’t the least bit as naïve as that: they had come to stare at the freak, to see the odd half-man/half-dog creature; yet, Tony wondered if his stirring speech did something to pop that bubble. They had come thinking they would see some sort of elephant man, all deformed and odd that they can “ooo” and “ahhh” at like some zoo animal. Instead they heard a young man—a victim of an alien disease—and he articulated with a level of intelligence that broke the façade that they had originally had of him.

How long that would last however, Tony had no idea of knowing.