“The Flu Shot That Went Wrong”

MY BOSS SAID, “IT’S JUST A FLU SHOT,” BUT THEN WRINKLED HIS NOSE

I almost didn’t go in when the office AC blasted my sweaty skin.

He smirked, rolling up his sleeve, acting like we were buddies, and the whole room smelled like that cheap hand sanitizer they keep in the break room. “You know, gotta keep the team healthy!” He said it too loud.

I felt a prick that burned far worse than any flu shot I’ve ever had, and then he was patting my shoulder, all slick and weird, asking me about the Miller account. The lights seemed too bright.

Now I can’t see straight and my ears keep ringing.
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The world warped. Colors bled into each other, and the sterile white of the office walls seemed to pulse. The ringing in my ears intensified, morphing into a high-pitched whine that clawed at my skull. Miller. The Miller account. That’s what he’d asked about. I vaguely remembered fumbling with the numbers, trying to articulate the progress report that swam blurry before my eyes.

Panic seized me. I tried to speak, to tell him something was wrong, but only a gurgling sound escaped my throat. My legs felt like they were filled with lead. I stumbled, grabbing for the edge of his desk to steady myself. My fingers brushed against something cold and metallic. A small, silver syringe, gleaming innocently in the fluorescent light, sat nestled amongst the paperwork.

He noticed my gaze. His smile flickered, gone in a heartbeat. His eyes, usually so affable, were now sharp, assessing. “You alright?” he asked, his voice no longer jovial. The air thickened with a metallic tang that I hadn’t noticed before, a scent that I realized was coming from him.

My vision tunneled. The fluorescent lights flickered, then plunged me into darkness.

***

I woke up cold, chained to a steel chair in a room I didn’t recognize. The air hung heavy, not with sanitizer, but with the cloying scent of bleach and something else, something that made my stomach churn. My head throbbed, and the ringing was a constant, insistent drone.

My boss, or whatever he was now, stood before me, no longer smirking. He looked…different. His skin was pale, almost translucent, and his eyes glowed with an unnatural light. A thin, almost insectile, grin stretched across his face.

“Good. You’re awake,” he hissed, his voice raspy. “The team is…expanding. And the Miller account? Let’s just say you’re the newest member.”

He held up a syringe, this one larger, filled with a viscous, iridescent liquid. The silver gleam was gone, replaced by a sickly green.

I struggled against the chains, a primal scream building in my chest. But it was no use. As he advanced, the metallic scent intensified, and a chilling understanding dawned on me. The flu shot wasn’t a flu shot. The office wasn’t an office. And I was no longer human. He injected me. The world exploded in green light, and then…nothing.