Parfum de mort (Original Short Story)

Breathe. Just breathe. That's what they say. 

They don't mention what to do if all you can sense in that breath is the stench of putrefying carcasses. All those people who cared so much about their appearances and being fashionable now lay strewn all around, a dash of the perfume of death spritzed onto their bodies. That smell multiplies by the minute and seems to seep in to every pore of my body. Desperate to be rid of it, I try to run away from them but it never leaves me, saturating more and more as I move through this locker room reeking of it. The more I inhale it, the sicker I feel. It's like the scent is ferrying a whole other organism with it through my system for I feel less like myself with each breath. Each inevitable breath thickens the haze in my brain as I become unable to think straight. The sound of footsteps registers suddenly and I instinctively raise the rifle in my hand. Turning around seems to be worthless as the overbearing perfume clogs my senses. 

A head pops up into the haze and speaks. I cannot hear what he is saying over the emptiness pervading my mind. Out of nowhere, a hand latches onto my wrist and my startled weapon feeds on it, on him. I watch him fall to the ground, alongside the other bodies and close his eyes. I stand there, unmoving, until his perfume adds on to the stench and I cannot take it anymore. I have to get out of here. Listening to the warm purring of the killer in my hand, I look at the sea of living bodies looking straight at me and the haze dissipates. Their uniforms make it clear: they do not like me, my kind. There are too many of them against my solo rifle. I will not last but I will be able to get some of them. At least I will be able to get away from this cloying perfume for a few minutes. I can seize the day, whatever that means. My resolve now strong, I grip onto my rifle and run forward, ramming into their lines. I am down in a matter of moments, my inevitable death fast approaching. 

Just as I feel my eyelids begin to shut, I sense the scent again. Now it's mine. I smile and shut my eyes, ready to be one with the wearers of the fragrance of death.