What will happen if I die in this body?

That interesting thought popped in my head as I walked to the door. I took care not to make any sound with the metal soles of my feet treading the tiled floor. My room was also dark so I hoped the fucker outside wouldn’t know I was at the door unless they had someone checking the bottom of it.

If I still had a human heart, it would’ve pounded in excitement at the prospect of another gamble.

I already posited before that whenever I wore the Blanchette face I wasn’t exactly transforming. My body was replaced with the Blanchette one, and my consciousness was transferred over. Although, I still called it transformation because it—tangentially, sorta, kinda, loosely—was…depending on how you look at it. And I didn’t have a better term to use.

This new face proved my hypothesis since my actual human body was there, by the fridge. If this metal body got destroyed, my theory was that I would simply be returned to my original body. And maybe I would lose usage of that specific face as a consequence.

Of course, I could be wrong and I’d permanently die if I got killed while in a different body, my consciousness dissipating into nothingness, my body left as a lifeless husk. But SpookyErind wouldn’t let me die this easily, right?

I hope so…

Despite the risks, I wanted to see who my visitor was because he or she might be a prospective ally. If I had actual enemies outside my room, why bother knocking? They could just charge right in and blast everything. The building was covered with these fucking vines; there was no need for subtlety and subterfuge.

So, what’s up with this weird knocking?

I swear my purpose was not to just find someone to test my powers on…

It is... Hehehe.

I excitedly tried to peer through the peephole but something felt off with my head. I felt around the part of my face where my eyes should be and found smooth metal. I continued feeling up my face and found my eye—singular—in the middle of my forehead.

Sure, that might as well be the case, I thought with a shrug.

I carefully aligned my cyclopean eye with the peephole.

Who is this guy?

I couldn’t see his face, only his curly brown hair, because he bowed his head down while continuing to knock in that evenly spaced way, almost like a metronome. I knew a few people with curly hair, but I was sure they weren’t this guy.

Should I open the door? There were no other people in the corridor besides him.

He might be some drunk but innocent person who mistook my room for his, and he still wasn’t aware that everyone in this building was going to get fucked soon. A perfect candidate for experimentation. He was the one who came to me anyway.

My hand was about to clasp the door knob when I noticed the color outlining his figure. It was of a similar quality to the gray tinge enveloping my human body. His color, however, was a sickly green. Like green turning halfway into grayish muddy color.

What could this mean? I was even more convinced I should use this guy as a guinea pig.

As I focused on him through the peephole, I spotted a splash of red color drifting in his head. The longer I looked, the clearer the red form became. It had the shape of a worm or probably closer to a tadpole but was about as large as my thumb. I didn’t have x-ray vision—that I was sure of—but I could see something was in his head that shouldn’t be there. This red tadpole thing was swimming inside him.

I spotted another one, and yet another. I wasn’t sure if they were multiplying, but the way they moved, it was as if they were tunneling through his flesh and organs.

Then the guy looked up straight into the peephole with his mouth open.

Fucking hell!

His pupils were almost all white and glassy, tears of blood ran down the sides of his eyes. The skin on his face was drier than the Sahara Desert, graying from the lack of blood, his skin cracking like the soil during a severe drought. He opened his mouth and displayed his jagged teeth. His tongue was burnt and shriveled. Zombie-looking fuckface.

Luckily, I wasn’t actually breathing or I would’ve gasped. I surprised myself that I didn’t jerk back upon seeing his face.

Something was coming up from the back of his throat. Small tentacles, like clumps of spaghetti that achieved sentience, extended themselves and reached for the peephole; their reddish outline told me they were connected to the tadpole thingies inside him.

I slowly backed from the door. The knocking continued, but with added scratching sounds from the small tentacles.

I pointed my fingers at the door. Power! I thought forcefully. Let’s go power!

Nothing happened.

I tiptoed to the kitchen as fast as I could without making any noise. Weapons, I needed something to fight back with. I picked the biggest knife I could find and held it with my right hand in front of me. There was no point trying to hide because they were going to find me anyway. This was just a condo unit; it would take a few minutes to search every possible hiding spot here.

If this zombie asshole barged in here, I had to make a last stand.

No super strength, no powers, this was going to be ugly. Weirdly, I was remaining super calm as my situation steadily worsened.

I was in my element. Life and death situations, fighting against monsters, I was at home here. This was my life now. Whatever was coming…bring it on!

I slowly advanced back to the door, deciding I should distance myself from my human body in case there was a fight. But the knocking and scratching stopped. I wasn’t sure if my hearing improved in this metal body, but I was certain I could hear the zombie guy walking away.

Knock, knock, knock.

This time, the zombie was knocking on the door of my neighbor. There were no people in that room as the couple who owned that unit were on a two-month tour of Asia and they didn’t rent it out before they left. I recalled them because they were very nice to me and regularly used to give me a couple slices of the apple pie they baked during weekends, which I sorely missed when they went abroad.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Was the zombie guy just going to knock on each room? Good luck to whoever answered him.

As for me, I had to figure out what to do next.

SpookyErind’s parting words returned to me. Before wishing me good luck, she told me that ‘Give or take three hours of your time’ my power was going to run out. SpookyErind certainly had a reason why she gave me this face instead of just telling me to use the Blanchette one. Which then meant the power of the Blanchette face wouldn’t be enough or was unsuitable for this situation.

In short, my escape is on a timer.

I examined the fingers on my hands. In place of fingernails, there were symbols drawn on them with the same red paint as the one used for the eye on my forehead, a different one for each of my ten fingers. Ten different effects? I suspected this was why SpookyErind seemed to be excited at the prospect of me testing my different abilities.

The next question would be how to activate them in the first place so I could test them?

Looking closely, there were nearly invisible grooves on the tips, as if they were supposed to open. And I assumed my power was shooting something out of my fingers since SpookyErind said I should just point my finger. Why was nothing happening then?

I was missing something.

Point my finger…

…‘at the appropriate target.’

I forgot about the second part of her clue!

This must be connected to the colors I could see. Green for ‘go’? Red for ‘no’? What the fuck was this, a traffic light? Or do I shoot the red ones?

Not only did I need to find out what the colors meant and which I should target, I also needed a clear shot. Nothing came out when I pointed at the vines outside the building because they were not ‘appropriate targets.’ Nothing also happened when I tried to shoot at the zombie guy in the corridor, even though he had both red and green colors, because my door was in the way.

I should take this chance to test my powers on the zombie guy outside since he was alone. Then I was going to make sure the path was clear before dragging my body to the elevator. I’m going to get super mad if the elevators aren’t working.

“Oh my god if I have to fight through every fucking floor with my body in tow to get out,” I muttered as I listened for the zombie. He was knocking somewhere else. I think a guy shouted at him to go away. An idea! I could wait for it to attack someone and try to shoot it from behind.

But I should hide my human body first before going out of my room.

A bloodcurdling scream made me pause. Did someone finally let the zombie in?

I should hurry if I wanted to join in on the action.

It would take too much time and effort to try and carry my body back to my bedroom. Behind the sofa? I dropped my knife and pushed away my flipped table, glancing at the pizza and broken plate that I hadn’t cleaned up. Then I positioned myself in front of my sofa. I bent down and pulled it with all my might.

“I hate this,” I murmured, as I budged it a few inches away from the wall. How I missed my super strength. A couple more inches, I thought, as I could feel my joints nearly popping.

I dragged my body from my fridge to the living room area of my unit. Then I put it on the seat of the sofa, and with monumental effort rolled it to the top of the backrest until it fell behind the sofa. I winced at the heavy thud as it dropped while thinking, why didn’t I just stuff it from the side? I pushed the sofa to squeeze my body and hopefully hide it while offering a bit of protection.

Following the shrieks of terror, came the pleas, “Help! Help! Someone, please help!” Or that was what I thought the woman was yelling. I wondered which unit it was because it seemed a bit far from mine, the sounds too muffled.

I picked up my knife and rushed back to my door. I waited and listened.

Other people joined in the screamfest as the commotion, or whatever the fuck was happening, escalated. They must be really having a blast. I could even hear banging pots and things thrown around. And was that a huge display cabinet full of expensive chinaware falling over? I felt the floor shake a nudge.

“Police! Call the police!” It was the woman who was screaming earlier, but by the sound of it, she was able to get out of their room. She was pounding on the doors of the different units. “Help! Someone is killing my husband!”

I peered through my peephole. Where was she? I wasn’t being a bad guy here, but I hoped she would get attacked. Be my bait, lady.

She sprinted past my view. There was no one chasing her. Fine, I was going to find the zombie myself.

I opened the door and stepped out of the room.

“Thank god. Call the pol—”

I stared at her. A disheveled brunette in sheer, silk evening gown stared back. She was cradling her blood covered arm as she stopped running and turned to see if someone was finally coming to her aid. Her hopeful face turned into one of confusion upon seeing me, a metal mannequin wielding a kitchen knife.

“What are you?” she whispered as bewilderment turned into fear. “Monster!”

“Green,” I said as I tossed my knife from my right to the left hand. Could it be? I pointed my right index finger at her fleeing back and concentrated on the thought of shooting.

There was a hiss, similar to that of a soda can opening, and something burst out of my finger, hitting her right between her shoulder blades. The projectile was connected to my finger with a blue shining thread, reminiscent of the anti-Adumbrae tasers of the police drones. But these weren’t tasers.

As soon as we were connected, something clicked in my head. SpookyErind was right once again when she said this was ‘pretty straightforward’ and I would immediately understand what to do. (Stop), I ordered with my mind.

The woman abruptly stopped in her tracks and fell to the floor, off-balanced by my sudden command. (Help! Help! I can’t move!) She kept screaming inside her head.

My consciousness wiggled into her mind. We were in one spot and it was getting cramped. (Lady, relax. You’re so loud.)

(Get out of my head! Help!) Her incessant screaming was making my head hurt. There was no actual sound in my mind, but her thoughts were broadcasted on megaphones. (Let me go! My husband is dying!)

(Relax, we’ll help your husband. Just don’t fight me.) But she wasn’t listening. She was freaking out, and I was also freaking out. Such a disgusting feeling this was to lose control. I couldn’t blame her reaction; any normal person would panic if a metal mannequin was trying to invade their mind right after they’ve escaped a zombie attack. The problem was she was projecting it back to me through our connection. Revolting emotions I wasn’t used to were enveloping my mind.

(Help! Anybody there? I can’t move!) She kept on trying to run away, but I held firm in imposing my will on her body to stay. She ended up convulsing on the ground as both of us fought for control.

There was a commotion in a room further down the hallway in the direction she was headed. Two bloody bodies piled out of a room. Dead people? No. The two of them slowly stood. They opened their mouths and red tentacles came out. How many of these zombie fuckers were around?

Shit. This lady was rampaging in her head. (Let me control your body!)

(Help! Help!) She kept on yelling that over and over while continuing her attempts get away from me. She didn’t even realize there were a couple of monsters ahead of her and she was trying to run towards them.

The two zombies headed towards us, awkwardly shuffling at first, but then their slow gait increased in speed. The tentacles growing out of their mouths thickened, ripping their cheeks wide open, turning their heads like that of Pacman. Literally grinning from ear to ear. To make matters worse, the ends of the whip-like tentacles began growing barbed spikes.

And I wasn’t making any headway in taking over the woman’s body.

This calls for drastic measures. I strode to the lady who was kneeling on the floor, her body shuddering as her mind took inputs from both of us. I raise my left arm, my hand clutching the knife…

Sorry for this, although, I’m really not.

…then I smashed her temple with the butt of the knife’s handle.