Niles wiped the sweat from his brow as he made his way home from the auto shop. He'd dropped his car off after a strange noise rattled through the engine on the way home from the doctor's. He'd been getting prescribed antibiotics after an incident at the entomology lab. They'd received a new specimen for study, and the closest thing he could have compared it to was a thick-chitined praying mantis.
The incident had been it escaping into the open when they attempted transferring it from a small case to it's sealed environment within the lab. He had tried to catch it… and been stung. They'd catalogued the incident, then sent him to get an appointment with a doctor, who'd given him the antibiotics and a prescription for more.
It was ridiculously hot. Niles couldn't wait to get into the air conditioning of his house and take the next few days to relax. The sting site had ached and throbbed for a few minutes but was now just numb. When he made it home, he slid through the entryway and shut the door before too much of the cool air could slip outside.
One antibiotic pill with a glass of water a day, he thought to himself as he downed the first one, the cool water hitting his throat in a refreshing surge. With very little to do now that he was unwillingly on vacation, he spent an hour and a half watching television before he began to grow bored. Maybe a nap would do him some good. Or he could just sleep until tomorrow.
The latter idea won out.
Sleep was comfortable… at least for a while. When the dream started, he almost hadn't been able to identify that's what it was. He'd been going about his day, perusing the store and scratching his hand as his eyes flitted over shelves. From the store, he went to the post office to check his box for mail. While he looked into the narrow metal alcove, he rubbed the back of his hand on the corner of the door. His dream day continued with only minor things giving away its… unrealistic universe; shops being bigger on the inside, a gas station having two floors and a play place…
His hand was itching even more now. A slight tingle had grown to an agonizing discomfort. He'd been scratching until the skin was red and raw for the last for minutes. And as the top layer of his skin peeled, Niles woke up. It was dark, only two and a half hours past midnight. He'd slept for quite a bit of time. His body felt sluggish, stiff, almost nauseous. He'd slept too much, probably. Joints popped as he forced himself out of bed.
Maybe a shower would help. He'd take an early, warm shower. That would make him feel better. Do a few chores and nap a little longer.
The shower felt… less than helpful. It was comforting, but it didn't feel like it was hitting him like it should. Sleep must still be clinging to his senses.
After the shower, Niles moved slowly around the house, looking for something to pass a little bit of time. Something would come to him, it seemed, when his phone went off.
He shambled back to the bedroom, unlocking the screen before answering the call. Its caller ID marked it as coming from the lab. “Doctor Niles Edward speaking,” he muttered.
“Did I wake you?” Came the voice of one of his colleagues, Doctor Lester Zendoll.
“No, Lester. I just got out of the shower.” He replied. “What's going on?”
There was silence for a good amount of time. According to the phone's call timer, two minutes. It was odd. Lester never wasted time. He was punctual and didn't draw out conversations. Never had in all the time Niles knew him.
“The new specimen, Niles. It's dead.”
Niles paused. “What the hell does that mean? Did it get out and get stepped on?”
“No. We watched it die out of nowhere. It was clinging to the side of it's environment, and then it just fell to the mulch and died. I stayed over with Jessica and Peter to investigate. There's… something weird…” Lester sounded uncomfortable, almost as if what he had to say next disturbed him. “We opened it up, as delicately as we could. It was empty.”
Empty? What does that even mean?! Niles had to shake his head. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that the exoskeleton, the chitin, was all that was there. Inside was no internal tissue or organs. It's just a shell.” Lester replied. “Look, I have to get back to it. Just thought you'd appreciate being in the loop. See you in a week, when the red tape parts for you.”
With the call over, Niles was left clutching the phone in the dark. He ended his side of the call, setting the phone down and lightly rubbing the back of his stung hand, trying to massage away an almost phantom tingling that had surfaced. He needed to get back to bed. It was too early for this shit.
He couldn't sleep. Not now. How had the insect just been hollow? He laid there contemplating what that could mean. But nothing made any goddamn sense.
Niles ruminated and mentally cursed for hours until the sun came up. No use in trying to sleep now. He rose and made his way towards the kitchen. He opened the fridge and looked at all the leftovers. He had a bad habit of making meals, putting leftovers in the fridge, and then forgetting the leftovers and making new meals, perpetuating the cycle.
He slowly pulled out a tub of what remained of a pot roast. He'd just heat that up and have it for breakfast.
When it was finally ready and Niles had wolfed down half of it, he noted that the taste was muted. Not too terribly, but enough he just barely noticed it. It was most likely a side effect of the antibiotics.
He needed to remember to take that later, around 2:00 p.m. Right now, he should probably put some anti-itch cream on the sting site. That dull tingling from the night before was now the faintest itch. Taking care of that took all of less than 2 minutes. Most of it had been trying to locate that damn tube. Applying it to the back of his hand, he noted how quickly the itch subsided back into that tingle.
Putting it out of his mind, he checked the cupboards and the fridge again to see if he was out of anything. Sugar, ketchup, bottles of water, and steaks. Wait, since when had he craved steaks recently? The last time he'd ever had a steak was at his brother's wedding 7 years ago.
Maybe it was a passing craving. Those tended to happen to people.
He supposed he'd indulge.
The trip to the supermarket was anything but eventful. He did walk past a rather nasty wreck, but it was already in the process of being cleaned up and there were no bodies being carted away or survivors being looked over by paramedics, nothing that your average rubbernecker would stop to gawk at. He said a silent prayer while simultaneously making a mental note to look up the street name when he got home to see if the accident made the news.
Just like the trip there, his time in the supermarket was mundane besides one service animal.
It had pulled away from him so sharply that it guided its human right into a shelf. Odd. Maybe his body wash offended its sensitive nose. He shrugged it off and went along with his purchases. On his way home, he took his phone from his pocket and called the auto shop.
Their response was almost immediate. “Mister Edward?”
“Yeah, that's me. I know it's only been a day…”
The Mechanic's sigh was weary. “I would say you're lucky that we already have the news, but that would imply it's good. It would be easier at this point to point out what isn't wrong. Every time we try to fix something, more problems come up. We know you've been trying to take good care of this car, but it's old and I think it's finally gone as far as it can. I'm sorry, Mr Edward.”
Niles rubbed his face with a tingling hand. That damn tingling. “Thanks for telling me. What happens now?”
“Well, you've been a good customer so we're willing to buy it off you. It'll be scrapped, but we'll pay you decent.” The mechanic replied.
This was fantastic. Stung by some weird kamikaze bug, put on leave due to red tape bullshit, and now his car had finally crapped out. Niles was already over all of it. “I'll swing by for the payout later. I have to go.”
When he got home, he made his way inside, setting down his groceries and making an immediate path towards the bathroom to retrieve the anti-itch ointment yet again. After a generous application of it to the back of his hand, he returned to the kitchen to take that day's antibiotic. It took some time, but the itch and then the tingling both subsided.
He prepared the steak, rare and bloody. He didn't remember liking steak like this, But with how long it have been he supposed there was no harm in trying it that way this time. It was delicious. He caught himself about to lick the steak's juices off the plate, shaking his head with a soft smile. He'd have to remember the preparation he used the next time he wanted steak.
He spent the rest of that day investigating the corners and nooks of his house for anything that needed cleaning or adjusting. Disappointingly, the house needed no cleaning or maintenance. This was shaping up to be a maddening vacation.
After a jaunt to the auto shop, he returned home from selling his shitbox and went right to the bedroom. He needed rest. He was suddenly and acutely aware of a nausea he hadn't felt earlier, and a soreness in his joints all over again. Had he improperly prepared the steak? Was this food poisoning? In preparation for the fallout of that possibility, he stripped down and climbed into the bathtub, bringing his most ratty towel that he wouldn't mind burning afterwards to use as a blanket.
He wasn't sure when he fell asleep, but he was dreaming again. He was in an oversized bathtub, his entire arm itching. The more he scratched, the more the itch spread. He was scratching to the point he was drawing blood and yet there was no pain.
Niles woke up, still nauseated and sore, and checked his phone after taking a minute to lay there staring at the inside of the tub. He'd been out for 2 hours.
He laid awake for another hour before finally getting up. Putting on a pair of ragged sweatpants and fishing a bucket out of a sink cabinet, he settled for sitting in front of the TV and watching the local news channel. He had tuned in just in time to catch the last few minutes of a report on the accident from earlier that day. He recognized the picture of one of the victims.
He'd never known her by name, but he had seen her in passing enough times in town that her face was familiar to him. She looked young, and it was sad to think that something so horrifying had been her final moments.
It was this thought that lingered in his mind when he finally noticed that he'd been scratching his hand rather roughly the entire time. Dry skin was beginning to peel on the back of his hand. Perhaps he'd been using too much cream, or this was a side effect of the antibiotics. Maybe he could look online to see if there were any hand lotions that didn't interact badly with anti-itch applications.
Then there was the second realization that made Niles grimace. That dull tingle that had preceded the itch? He was beginning to feel it on other areas of his body. Like with his hand, it was all just under the skin. Food poisoning and an allergic reaction to an insect sting. What a fucking day.
He didn't remember falling asleep again. But he was dreaming. Or maybe he was hallucinating from the food poisoning? Whatever the case, Niles was clawing into his skin, pulling it away and staring at muscle underneath.
No… not muscle…
Chitin.
He was pulling harder and faster now, shedding skin for more and more chitin.
Waking was not much of a reprieve for him. No. It was dark, he'd vomited all over himself in his chair, and he itched. He itched so badly. It was disgusting. A cold shower soothed him, but only just. He'd have to clean the chair and the floor. And scrub these spots of dead skin.
More dead skin. He should go to the hospital. But they'd probably just diagnose him with eczema and then charge him into the ground for the visit.
His mind wandered further while he picked up his washcloth and scrubbed at the flaking areas of his body. Time had flown during his nap. Time had blurred a lot lately. He wasn't well, clearly, and it was fucking with his perception of time.
He finished his shower and began cleaning his furniture and floor, all while in a haze. He'd go back to sleep for just a few hours, then he was going to go to the pharmacy and grab some anti nausea medication.
Sleep was evasive. Niles drifted in and out, curled up in the tub again.
It got worse with each passing day. The nightmares of chitin beneath skin, his flaking skin in reality… the only upside was that he wasn't nauseous or tired by day five. But the itching was unbearable at this point. No amount of ointments were taking the edge off. He was scratching until he thought he'd bleed, and then he'd have to push the urge to scratch down. Every fucking day.
And then it finally happened.
Another day of itching. He was stepping out of the shower, scratching off chunks of flaking skin until a slab of skin that had once been on the back of his hand where he'd been stung hit the floor and blood didn't follow.
Niles froze. He didn't feel blood seeping out. But there was skin just laying on the floor. He could feel his stomach turning. He… he didn't want to look. He had to. He slowly brought his gaze to his arm, where the patch of skin had fallen away to reveal…
Chitin.
He had to be hallucinating. He had to be. There was no God damned way! His hands frantically clawed at other exposed skin. More Chitin. No. NO! What nightmare was this?!
He stumbled, the world spinning as he shook. He backed up against the wall, before making his way to his phone. He needed eyes on this. Eyes not marred by whatever infection was raging and fucking up his brain.
Starting up a video call, He waited for those at the lab that day to answer.
Lester answered first. “Niles! We haven't heard from you in a week! How are-” He paused, seeing through the camera just how horrified Niles looked. “... Are you okay?”
“I need you all to tell me if I'm hallucinating.” He said as others leaned into frame before angling the camera to show his arms and torso.
Lester shouting a loud “FUCK!” made him sway again. Jessica and others made noises of panic and shock. Lester collected himself to speak. “Niles… Niles, please bandage all that up as best you can. Cover yourself up and do not touch anything. We're coming to get you.”
They hung up, leaving Niles by himself. The urge to keep scratching was overwhelming, But he couldn't do it. He didn't want to see more of what was underneath. He didn't want to know. He wanted this to be a bad dream. His hands shook too much to apply any bandages, so he instead haphazardly put on sweatpants and a bathrobe.
When they showed up, all clad in hazmat suits, his skin felt loose. It felt like it needed to come off. He wasn't entirely sure, but his fingers felt unusual. They were the only part of him still not itching. Why?
The ride to the lab was silent, everyone repeatedly glancing back at him. His eyes felt out of place, his teeth too. His throat felt like it was swollen, like he needed to clear something from it. Maybe he was going to throw up again.
He was ushered into the lab and quickly situated in a quarantine chamber. They took great care to bandage his body to hide the exposed areas, but not before delicately scraping a minuscule sample of the chitin for study.
The world around him became a haze. A new intrusive thought began to permeate what little sense he had left, even as he began to move his hand towards his mouth. It was as if he was experiencing a completely separate reality as things began to undulate from his throat.
Sharp tips at the end of whatever they were anchored into his fingers at the knuckle where finger met palm, and one by one each finger was degloved to reveal the sharp tipped digits beneath.
Niles would be free if He could just dig those claws in and peel off the rest of the cocoon.
Niles Edward, in any other situation, would have been frozen in place catching himself referring to his own skin, his own body as a cocoon. To the fact that something inside him was pulling the skin off his fingers.
But he was too preoccupied with something else. Something that occupied his entire consciousness. Even as his digits subconsciously shifted towards the bandages that covered areas where his skin had been torn away to reveal the chitin underneath.
He wasn't even aware of the work his claws were taking to in pulling the ever loosening shell away. The appendages in his throat began pushing his teeth free as his cheeks began to split like construction paper.
He was only aware of one thing.
Lester, Jessica, everyone in the labs that were working so diligently to find an explanation and possibly a solution for whatever was happening to their friend...
They smelled... delicious…
Written by CaptainCreepyPastaOG
Content is available under CC BY-SA