MonkeyGeddon Chapter 1 ; By Kusu Neru
Tongwo: MG 1 | Tongwo (testificatetime.wixsite.com)
“And, hey presto!” Manzo Hideaki said, placing the steaming plate down on the table. “One dish of ramen, extra egg and lettuce!”
“Thanks,” they replied.
“No problem!”
Manzo returned to the kitchen, and took his hat off. He checked the time. Nearly time to close. He went and locked the back door, turned off the lights in the back, and started cleaning up the kitchen. He grabbed a bowl and began to scrub. He liked his job as a chef. The small restaurant he owned was run almost entirely by him, occasionally with some of his family members joining in. It made enough money, enough to allow him to live comfortably. He replaced the bowl in the spot it went on the shelf, and picked up the spoons he had used. He dumped them in the sink and turned the tap on. Hot, steaming water flowed over them. He picked up a sponge and began scrubbing them too.
Soon, the process of washing up was over. He squeezed the sponge out and placed it next to the tap. He took his gloves off. “Well, I guess I just have to wait for that guy to leave.” He stood in the doorway, watching. The man was… normal, he supposed. Just a very slow eater. He sighed, and walked over. “Hey, ‘scuse me, but you’re kind of past the time of closing.”
“Oh, sorry.” He stood up, pulling his wallet out. He slammed 2000 yen down on the table. “I’ll get going.” Manzo stared at the money in disbelief. There was still half a bowl left!
He groaned in pleasure as he sat down on his armchair, glass of wine in hand. It was his day off tomorrow, and he intended to celebrate. He reached for the remote to turn on the TV. He leaned over, but an almighty hacking cough took over him. It felt like sandpaper was being scrubbed against his throat. “What the, hack, is this?” He coughed again, as he picked up the remote. He ran a hand across his mouth, and looked at it. A mixture of blood and snot stared back. “Holy… aw, just as I was getting comfortable!”
He turned the TV on as he stood up to wash his hand. He clicked onto the local news as cold water ran down his hands.
“Important information for all those living in the east!” Manzo looked back, seriously. “A mysterious illness, now known as Occisor 12, has been reported in the eastern region.” Images flashed up on the screen, causing Manzo’s jaw to drop in disbelief. “Symptoms of this illness are intense fits of coughing or sneezing up blood. If you find yourself identifying with either of those, you must stay inside and avoid contact with anyone else. The eastern region has been placed on lockdown, with no one allowed out. That is all.”
Manzo poured the wine down the sink. That day off didn’t seem as good as he had thought it would be, at least because he now knew he would have a lot more of them.
He laid in his bed, fear coursing through his veins. This illness could actually kill him, he thought as he scrolled on his phone. Reports of the illness were spreading, but were still luckily contained in the eastern region. He almost didn’t want to sleep, in fear that he wouldn’t wake up, but he knew he had to. As he shut his eyes, he remembered a book he had read on the Vikings. Apparently, they didn’t wear armour when going into battle, as they believed their fate had been predetermined beforehand. That was the final thought rushing through Manzo’s mind as he drifted off to sleep.
Manzo’s eyes flew open. He looked around. It was his room, still. But something felt off. He didn’t know what it was, but a definite unease had settled in his mind. He felt his hands begin to shake, indicating another anxiety attack. But this was no anxiety attack. His hands shook faster and faster, until they were a blur. It spread to his forearm, his elbow, to his entire arm. Suddenly, pain erupted in a shower of blood as the skin burst open, revealing a bloody mess of worms and insects. Manzo let out a scream. “NOO!!” He yelled. Blood coursed out of him, almost reminding him of a waterfall. Out of the blue, a sudden glimmer of light appeared on his hands. This brought even more of the raw, unbridled pain he had felt before. Blood seemed to congeal on the spot, becoming tough and hard. Finally, from what he thought was blood loss, he passed out.
He woke up in a cold sweat, fear being replaced by relief. He panted happily. It was just a dream. He stood up, and went to make breakfast. Something fell out of his hair, inciting him to look down. It was a worm.
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