Steve awoke to the swinging, flicking light bulb above his head. It was unusually warm for February and it smelt like burning flesh. Steve stood up and took a step forward, he heard a distant whistling. Suddenly he was knocked back by the intense heat wave seeping through the air holes in the bunker, dazed and confused he heard the slightest sound of screams and gun shots then passed out.
He returned to reality, stood up and brushed off the dust on his jacket. It was quiet, apart from the howling of a beast, it seemed diminished and painful. Steve was also in pain, it seemed his left arm was badly damaged, the skin had been burnt off yet the rest of the arm was still in tact, green liquid oozed round his veins. He pulled out the survival kit and wrapped his arm in bandages. It stung his arm to the point where he screamed in agony. Yet leaving it exposed could cause a worse fate. A faint whisper from behind Steve drew his attention. “Hello” The radio emitted “Is anyone left? It’s Professor Taylor, I worked with the German professor, if anyone is left, He has let off the nuclear weapons, and His laboratory is the only safe place.”
Steve ran to the radio but the microphone was broken, stripped off its recognition box. He tried to talk back yet it was obvious to him the professor couldn’t hear him. He wrote down his name and packed his rucksack with food and first aid equipment. He picked up a pipe from the floor. From what he had heard the world wasn’t a safe place, it never was, but now was the time for action, he would go insane inside the bunker and he had to find another survivor.
Steve opened the hatch above him and climbed out into a partially destroyed house. Deserted. A half eaten meal lay on the table covered ceiling debris; the dishwasher was still running. Suddenly, his vision became blurred and objects duplicated in his mind as the room spun around him. Steve dropped to his knees as his arms changed. l that he saw before: an octopus. One image, those purple, slimy, roots protruding from that great trunk of a body. His arm started reforming, extreme pain followed by a loss of feeling, but he could control it, he had to hold on for a few more seconds. It was finished. He opened his eyes to reveal 3 large tentacles which replaced his left arm, controlled like fingers, simple he thought. Smash. The breaking of a plate was enough to remind him of what was waiting for him outside. “Time to step up, now or never.” Steve thought to himself. He burst out the door and s on the ground. Miraculously, the green liquid was replicating, repairing the damaged muscle tissue and creating new skin cells to protect him. Different, was the only adjective to describe the new skin. Harder, stronger, tougher; alien. The liquid was changing his whole arm as well, most of his skin had grown small thorns. He could feel the muscles pulsating, expanding. The door in front of him opened.
There stood a mutated rat, it had grown to around half the size of Steve and it's teeth had sharpened to be like knives. The rat charged at Steve and he barely had time to dodge before the horns on it's head skewered him. He ran into the adjacent room and hid inside an old fashioned closet. Screaming pain made him want to curl up and just accept defeat. He focused on that one animal that he saw before: an octopus. One image, those purple, slimy, roots protruding from that great trunk of a body. His arm started reforming, extreme pain followed by a loss of feeling, but he could control it, he had to hold on for a few more seconds. It was finished. He opened his eyes to reveal 3 large tentacles which replaced his left arm, controlled like fingers, simple he thought. Smash. The breaking of a plate was enough to remind him of what was waiting for him outside. “Time to step up, now or never.” Steve thought to himself. He burst out the door and slowly creeped towards the kitchen. The rat was feeding and it was time to strike. Steve through the tentacles towards the deformed creature; one wrapped itself around the beasts throat, the other two grabbed his head and pulled it back, to prevent it from biting. Steve wasn't the violent type, fighting wasn't his idea of fun. Yet, today his primal instincts took over his mind, the glint in his eye flashed as he choked the vial abomination to death. It's eyes rolled back in it's head as Steve grinned. The creature lay lifeless in his animal parts. Snap back to reality: his arm retracted to a human arm, the grin faded, his first kill. But, it wasn't him, the animal inside was the hunter, not him. “What am I?” Steve wondered as he made his way to the upstairs bedroom, fatigued.