Doomsday: Don’t Touch My Dog Bowl

I can smell death.

Rotting flesh, mixed with sweet-smelling spores and mycelium, and a metallic, pungent stench, was seeping into the cramped dormitory room through the cracks in the security door.

My name is Max, and I am a three-year-old German Shepherd.

At this moment, I am curled up in my master Edmund's arms, every hair on my body stands on end, and a furious growl is bubbling up in my throat, ready to erupt at any moment.

The spores in Boston fell for a whole day before stopping.

Those green, eerily fluorescent, fluffy things fell from the sky, like willow catkins or dandelions, breathtakingly beautiful.

People cheered in the streets, reached out to catch it, and licked it with their tongues.

Then, everything changed.

People who come into contact with spore snow begin to experience skin ulceration and abnormal changes in their flesh.

Some people collapsed and convulsed on the spot, with dark green mycelium emerging from their bodies; others ran wildly and bit others until they themselves were completely transformed into monsters.

Edmund reacted quickly.

Seeing the horrific scene outside the window, he immediately shut all the doors and windows, sealed every gap with tape, and carried me into the innermost room of the dormitory.

We survived.

But the outside world is dead.

There were no more car horns, no more sirens, and even screams outside the window in Boston.

Instead, there was a strange clicking sound from the joints of those things as they roamed around.

Edmund huddled in the corner, the sweat on his palms soaking the handle of his aluminum baseball bat.

I could hear his heartbeat—thump-thump-thump-thump—it was so fast it felt like it was going to explode.

He was terrified, but he tried to control his breathing and not make a sound.

He is a wise master, and I love him the most.

The dormitory has been without water and electricity for more than forty hours.

In the darkness, I could see cold sweat beading on Edmund's pale face. He bit his lip so hard that the skin broke, and blood trickled down his chin.

I really wanted to go over and lick him to comfort him, but I didn't dare to move.

Because there's something outside the door.

"Ed! Edmund! Please, open the door! It's me, Brad!"

A familiar Boston accent came from outside the door, accompanied by painful gasps and desperate sobs.

That was the voice of Brad, the football captain—the big guy who loved to chug Edmund beer at parties, the kind guy who always secretly slipped me steak scraps.

Edmund froze. I saw a flash of joy in his eyes, but it was immediately followed by terror, and he dared not move.

Excellent! The owner did a great job!

Because the one outside isn't Brad at all!

"Ed, I know you're in there! Those monsters are chasing me, I'm injured, my leg was bitten! Please, brother, open the door! I can't hold on much longer!"

The door was banged on repeatedly.

Edmund gritted his teeth, his body trembling.

He stared intently at the door, his fingers turning white from gripping the baseball bat so tightly.

I could sense his struggle—what if it really was Brad?

He began to tiptoe toward the door.

no!

My ears perked up and my nostrils twitched wildly.

The smell outside the door grew stronger—spores, rotting flesh, and the sound of sticky, moist mycelium climbing.

Most importantly—I can't hear my heartbeat.

The human heartbeat is crystal clear to me, like the beat of a drum.

Edmund's heart was pounding like a drum, but there was "Brad" outside the door—

No heartbeat!

Absolutely not!

The only sounds were the gurgling of viscous liquid flowing inside the body cavity and the rustling of countless tiny hyphae rubbing and climbing on the door panel.

There are also cat's eyes.

On the outer side of the cat's eye, there is an eyeball that is moving.

But it wasn't a human eyeball—no blood vessels, no pupil contraction, just a lifeless, inorganic sphere, mechanically rotating, rubbing against the metal lens, emitting a faint squeaking sound.

Edmund's hand was already reaching for the doorknob.

I must stop him.

I am his dog, and it is my duty to protect him.

Without hesitation, I pressed down with all my weight of over a hundred pounds, rushing to Edmund at top speed. My broad back slammed into his chest, forcefully knocking him to the carpet.

The moment he cried out, I covered his mouth with my fleshy pads, pressing my entire body against him.

Edmund's eyes widened in shock and confusion.

I couldn't explain it in human language, so I could only desperately try to tell him with my eyes—

Master, please believe me, I beg you, believe me this time.

My tail was tucked tightly between my legs, and my ears were pressed back against my head, making the most submissive and pleading gesture.

I'm using all my body language to tell him—I'm not disobeying you, I'm protecting you.

Edmund saw the pleading and warning in my eyes.

He took a deep breath, forced himself to calm down, and nodded stiffly.

I gratefully rubbed my palm against his, then released the pad of flesh, but still pressed down on him.

We both looked through the crack in the door.

A dark green object was silently peeking in from the bottom of the door crack.

That was a tentacle.

Its surface is covered with barbs and mucus, resembling the tentacles of a deep-sea creature or deformed fungal hyphae.

It swept slowly across the floor, the tumor-like thing at the top opening and closing repeatedly, as if savoring the scent molecules in the air.

It's searching. It's confirming that there really isn't anyone alive in the room.

I held my breath and pressed Edmund down hard.

His body was trembling, but he gritted his teeth and remained motionless.

We stood frozen in place, watching helplessly as the tentacle slithered across the floor.

It swept over discarded pizza boxes, overturned chairs, and scattered textbooks.

Each movement kicked up a sticky liquid that glowed a disgusting green fluorescence under the moonlight.

One second, two seconds, five seconds...

The tentacles circled halfway around the room before pausing in front of the wardrobe, seemingly hesitant.

My heart was about to stop.

Edmund's clothes were hanging there, and they must still smelled of him.

But the tentacles eventually gave up.

It slowly withdrew, leaving a disgusting trail of slime on the floor, before retreating completely outside the door.

There was silence for a few seconds outside the door.

Then, the voice of "Brad" stopped abruptly.

Instead, there is an extremely cold, sticky, multi-synthesized sound—like countless mouths speaking at the same time, distorted, shrill, and completely inhuman.

"This room... is empty."

That thing is giving a report.

Immediately afterwards, conversations began to fill the corridor.

Several voices, both male and female, were communicating using the same eerie, multi-synthesized voices.

Their footsteps echoed as they patrolled the corridors like a well-trained search party.

"Continue the inspection."

"There are three more rooms upstairs."

"Find one alive and bring it back."

Those things are being searched in an organized manner.

This is not a simple hunt of wild beasts; it is an encirclement and extermination operation by intelligent beings.

They can talk, think, cooperate, and even know how to use human voices as bait.

Edmund's face completely lost its color.

He collapsed onto the floor, his fingers digging into the carpet, as if all his strength had been drained away.

The sounds in the corridor gradually faded away and moved upstairs.

Edmund finally dared to breathe.

He gasped for breath, as if he had just been pulled from the water. Then, with trembling hands, he hugged my neck tightly and buried his face in my fur.

I could feel the warm liquid wetting my fur.

The master was crying, but he made no sound.

I gently licked his hand and rubbed my nose against his cheek.

I'm comforting him in my own way—I'm here, Master, I will protect you.

Edmund held me tightly and whispered in my ear, "Good boy... Dafu, good boy..."

My tail wagged gently.

Even in such dire circumstances, I still feel happy as long as I receive praise from my master.

Because I am his dog.

His great fortune.

No matter how the world changes, I will stay by his side.

Even if the outside world is full of monsters, as long as my master needs me, I will rush up and tear apart any threat with my teeth and claws.

This is the meaning of my existence.