“Home sweet home,” Ruddy said, to the no-one-in-his-life. “Yeah, right.”

  He’d been living alone in his parents’ guest house since he was 14. He had his own 60-inch TV, several gaming systems, a king size bed, a fully-stocked bar, and a generator to get him through the city’s rolling power outages.

  Everything a person could want. So why did it always remind him of that line from the Shakespeare movie?

  “Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow,” he said. “And too-mo-rowwww. Each day and its petty pace.”

  He flipped through the channels without seeing what was on. It was all news and reruns anyway, and of course the antenna needed adjusting.

  I miss Netflix, he thought. They had really been going somewhere with all those Marvel shows.

  He stopped at a news program. A balding man in a suit in front of a stage set droned on about the afflicted. “If you suspect one of your neighbors or loved ones are afflicted, do not confront them. Call the number at the bottom of the screen. If you suspect you may be afflicted, turn yourself in. With treatment your affliction can be managed, and you will be trained to defend your country against foreign and rogue afflicted. Only you can prevent the next Bethel massacre ...”

  Ruddy hit the power button and the TV darkened. “Goddammit,” he said. “Why did this happen to me?”

  He had a good life here. Sure, he was bored all the time—but that was better than being hungry, right? He had hardly even noticed when the Event happened a few years ago. The whole family stayed in for a few days, eating leftovers and soup until the fires stopped. Then his father went out to help put the city back together. Even now his dad was always on TV with the mayor talking about rebuilding Dallas and the country.

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  Since then, Ruddy had done pretty much what he’d always done: not much of anything. Only now he couldn’t distract himself with the Internet or the latest computer game.

  And then a few weeks ago his Dad had insisted that he start “doing his part.”

  Everything had fallen apart two nights ago. Ruddy was in his hotel room in Houston, getting ready for the big meeting with the Harringtons the next morning—if you can call tossing, turning, pacing, and worrying “getting ready.”

  He couldn’t stop looking at himself in the mirror, thinking about what his dad’s friends would think when they saw his ugly face.

  Why do I have to look like a circus freak? he thought. Why can’t I just change?

  Then it happened. His whole face changed. His nose got smaller, his eyes got rounder, his protruding jaw shrank. It scared him so bad he jumped back and tripped over a chair. When he landed, his body was silver and he thudded onto the floor like a chunk of metal.

  He lay there for hours, his body melting and reforming with every thought. He turned his entire will to making it stop, but he didn’t trust it even when it did.

  He didn’t sleep at all that night. He kept waiting to wake up from the nightmare, but he couldn’t. When Travis knocked on his door the next morning, the changes seemed to be under control—but the damage was done.

  He was an emotional wreck. He couldn’t even remember what the meeting was about. He babbled incoherently. All he could think was: Don’t change, don’t change.

  It was his dad’s fault, anyway.

  What was he thinking, sending me on a business trip? Ruddy thought. To meet with the Harringtons, of all people! They’re, like, the most important people in Texas, and he sent a deformed noob to be his negotiator?

  Ruddy threw his remote.

  Maybe it won’t happen again, he thought. Maybe I can control it next time.

  He held up his hand and concentrated. Nothing happened for a second, then his skin turned to metal. He tapped the arm of his chair. Clink. Clink.

  “Jesus!” He buried his face in his hands. “It’s true. I’m a fucking freak. Fucking afflicted. I should just kill myself before I hurt anyone.”

  He stared at the dark TV as the shadows lengthened.