Check out the update to The Eyes of God.

I shiver, remembering the strange visions:

I stared at the large lump on the back of my hand, the first lump which grew from the insidious bite of the plague. Out of it, a little yellow stream poured like viscous oil down my arm, dripping off my elbow. Knowing myself dead—beyond all recovery—I decided to take one small vengeance upon the sore.

Drawing my knife, I set the blade against the feverish, swollen flesh. A moment of panic gripped my stomach at the thought of—and then I did it, slitting the boil open with one desperate yell. It burst forth like a flower of rotting meat, the many layers like petals curling outward, but instead of a deluge of blood and bile, the yellow course only increased a little, hardly at all.

There was more: white, like bone, but the cut wasn’t that deep. Beneath my flesh the thing moved, turning, rotating, under my skin, and then the iris rolled forward. It was an eye, an alien eye—an invader to my body—staring out at me. Blinking, pulling my flesh over itself, it cried its sticky tears. I watched it awhile, and it watched me, this giant orb hidden under my skin.

I plunge my knife into this appalling monster, squirting its juices in a geyser, and then it started screaming.