Mushroom Caps

Trapped in his home, a lone apocalypse survivor writes his final note.

I can see them through the windows again. They surround my house, right outside the glow of my lights. Just like every other night, they're begging me to come out, beckoning and telling me "everything's okay." But they don't fool me; the silver moonlight outlines their figures and the mushroom caps protruding from their bodies. They used to be normal people, sane and healthy, but now they're the closest thing to monsters on this earth. Polyporus mushroom caps hard enough to protect them from bullets speckle their bodies like fungus on trees. When they're not pretending to be human, they're quietly wheezing like an old smoker and their bloodshot eyes are constantly flicking around, searching for their host's next victim. I would call them zombies, but they look too alive for that to be accurate; they still breathe and bleed. They seem more like people that went insane and grew mushrooms than walking corpses. I guess that description isn't all that far off, considering what they did.
People first started turning into these things about a week or so ago. To put what happened simply, those who were infected started becoming overly aggressive. They broke windows, charged houses, and killed all they could in massive riots. I'm not sure when the military got involved, but they weren't very helpful. They were good at killing them, but seemed to always be short on numbers and supplies. What's worse is they were trying to check everybody trying to leave in hopes of preventing the spread of this insanity disease and that just kept people trapped in the city. Things were only getting worse and quickly. Everything came to a tipping point when a local university caught fire. Some gas source must have been ignited because the whole thing went up in a massive ball of fire soon after. It was only hours later when a factory exploded like a volcano. I don't know how they managed to make that happen, but the entire surrounding area looked like a pillar of fire. By that point, the panicked city population had joined the infected in the rioting. Well, that's how it looked anyway; the only way you could tell between the human and infected riots was whether or not they looted what they destroyed. I repeatedly tried calling everyone I could, but they stopped answering after a day or two or just didn't answer to begin with. After a few days, the city had gone quiet for the most part and the only people I knew were still alive were me and a neighbor who'd also managed to stay quiet enough to not be found. Despite how grim everything was, I started to get a little excited at first. I thought maybe he and I might be able to co-operate and survive together somehow. I guess it was all just hopeful thinking because he didn't last long.
Some infected found out he was still alive, though I don't know how, and tried to get into his house. Despite their efforts, the boards on his windows and doors kept them out. They gave up after a few days of failing to get in and unanimously opted for something else. They surrounded his house and started calling and beckoning him out. For days they stood outside his house and begged him to come out. They told him that everything was okay; that there was nothing to be afraid of. They never fooled him, though, since he could see them for what they were out in the sunlight. Despite that though, they still got to him eventually because their chanting never stopped. As the hours passed, their chanting attracted more infected, which just made the cacophony of voices louder and louder. He lasted a day or so before the constant chanting made him finally break.
He slowly opened his door and stepped out with a look of utter defeat on his face. The infected all immediately screamed like deranged loony-bin escapees and sprinted at him. They tackled him and he fell back into his house. The rest quickly flooded inside and swarmed him. I'm not sure what happened next, but his screams didn't last long. After a few minutes, his attackers started to disperse, covered in blood and bits of viscera, and wandered away, mostly into the nearby woods, to search for their next victim. I didn't want to admit it, but I'm a little glad he's gone; I never knew I could appreciate silence as much as I did.
I snuck out a couple of times to get more food and water once I was sure they were gone, but I guess I wasn't cautious enough and some infected found out I was still alive a few days ago. Now they're begging me to come out, just like they had my neighbor. The only difference is this time they're only coming out at night. I guess that makes it more bearable, but not by much, as I sleep during the day since their chanting keeps me up at night. I've held out longer than the other guy thanks to those small windows of silence before the sun sets, though. Luckily I found an unused journal a little while ago and have been writing in it to stay sane. I've thought about staying awake longer than usual to go out and get some stuff, but I'm afraid they're hiding and'll attack me if I reveal myself.

One of them's banging at the back door. It's boarded up so he won't be getting in.

I've done my best to stay sane despite the nightly calling, but they're begging has been getting to me. All the voices of the once-people combine into one giant cacophony of sound that's chipping at my psyche like a pick at a stone. My dreams are now haunted by the things outside my door and I live in constant fear of a sudden death at their hands or by the beige infectious spores they secrete -- I can see them waft out of their mouths with every breath they take and they tint the air in my house like stained glass.
I wish so dearly none of this had happened. I used to have my entire life ahead of me. I attended a prestigious university states away from home that I'd worked my a*s off to get accepted to so I could chase my dreams of being a lawyer. I had a loving girlfriend and a family who always supported me in whatever ways they could. I guess all of that means nothing now that a few boards of wood and a gas mask are the only things keeping me from an unpleasant-at-best death.
I don't know how long they're going to stand out there chanting. Nor do I know what I should do after they leave. I don't even know if I'll still want to live after they're gone. Realistically, there aren't going to be many healthy people left out there; just mushroom people like the ones outside. Life would just be a torturous, hellish path to insanity, and that's assuming I'll even survive long enough to go insane.
Maybe I should just give up like the other guy. They seem friendly enough to their own kind.
Maybe I'll take my mask off today and breathe the spores.

If you can't beat 'em, join 'em, right?