Chapter 3-February 11th
As Steve awoke a lone shadowy figure quickly escaped from the foot of his bed. “Imagination.” He thought as he hauled himself out of the single bed and towards a study desk. He chose a clean page and a pen. “A to do list should help me stay calm.” Wiping the sweat from his forehead, Steve began writing:
Understand and control 'powers'
Find Father at the local banking house
Find Mother at Timber House Working Industry
Steve drifted off as his brothers could be anywhere. He might never see them again. “Stay positive” Steve whispered to himself, nothing was clear to him any more. A nuclear bomb had either irradiated or killed most life on Earth. Yet, he survived. “Shake it off Steve. Focus” A voice whispered to him, or was it in his head
He folded the letter and slipped it into his back pocket, collected his thoughts and stepped out of the bedroom, down the stairs. There lay the carcass of the mutated rat, it seemed something had skinned it, blood left a trail leading outside. Instincts told him to follow it. Searing pain told him to stop abusing the change in his DNA, so he picked three knives from the kitchen drawer. A tin of canned peaches also took his fancy. He packed the knives into his belt buckle and put the tin into his rucksack. Then, with a deep breath, Steve stepped out into the harsh reality of a destroyed world.
The stench was overpowering. Burning flesh mixed with thousands of dirty, disgusting, poisonous liquids. Steve nearly vomited but managed to swallow it back down. He took his first steps and managed to avoid the large acid pool to his right. A rib cage sat in the middle of it, almost bathing in it. Adjusting his eyes to the sunlight above, Steve focused on the bloody footprints, unable to tell whether they were human or not, which they carried on for the next few miles. A small, yellow, push bike was leant on the side of the house he had slept in. “It's about survival now, morals are out the window” He grabbed the bike and pedalled off towards the neighbouring town.
Along the way, corpses lined the road as if someone had been searching them yet it looked respectful. Most were still fully dressed, more than that, their clothes had been straightened, tucked in. Steve tried to ignore it but he must of passed hundreds of bodies. It had mostly been an uphill journey so his legs weren't prepared for the physical output, not after the fitness pill had been brought out. Finally, The town was only 300 metres away before he was stopped by a fallen tree. Bodies on either side of him, no way out. He would have to move the bodies. They were heavy and Steve struggled to move them with class. He ended up just shoving the bodies to one side. As he started to ride again on his bike, he could feel the liquids on his hands. Stinging. Burning. Only on his right hand though; his left just absorbed it, used it, enjoyed it. In front of him stood a large warehouse, renovated to accommodate homeless people. Rehab. Steve had heard of places like this, but he couldn't of imagined the feeble state of the insides. Around one hundred beds and then one separate room. The room was used to hand out mood drugs. They can change the users feelings in any direction. A small patch that you put on your palm. “Well you can't cure addiction without more drugs” Steve chuckled to his self. In fact, it was the first time he had laughed since the accident. Another voice laughed as well, just a snigger, quiet. Silence. Slam. The back door of the hut was shut. Steve ran towards the door and threw it open to a empty wasteland. He stepped back inside as the door shut itself.
Steve shuffled some beds across and created a space for himself. From his back pocket he pulled out the sheet of paper. Practice. Steve focused. He focused for 2 minutes, 5 minutes. What was happening? Nothing. What was different? “Adrenaline” Shouted Steve as it echoed round the empty shack. He wasn't in grave danger anymore. Before, Steve feared for his life, now, he was safe. As safe as he could be in this world. It looked like he could only practice while he stared death in the face. “Looks like number one was a failure” Steve said as he crossed out the first item on his check list. “Now to find my father, hopefully I'll be more successful with this mission” As Steve walked out the door a large object swung at him, he only had time to blink before his face hit the floor.
Several hours later, Steve had been moved back into the building, for protection. He was laid in a pool of blood and a bright green liquid. He lifted his head and groaned. Upon sliding his hand back to his head, he could feel a new texture, not skin. Similar to his left arm. It seemed without his new DNA he would of died of blood loss. Now, it could grow over his body. He was becoming stronger, more beastly. A large, apparent vain ran from the back of his left middle finger to the back of his neck. One, long, green vain. It seemed that whenever Steve sustained an injury, his body would repair itself almost instantly. Steve thought to himself, that in the end, this thing would take over him, and for the first time, Steve was scared.
Saturday 18 June 2011
Saturday 11 June 2011
Devastation Lab Chapter two
Chapter two-February 10th
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.
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.
Saturday 4 June 2011
Devastation Lab Chapter One
Chapter One-February 9th
Steve awoke inside his semi detached house on woodland road, Darlington. 55 miles from The Colinton Labs in York.
“Good morning” Steve chuckled to himself.16, brown hair, brown eyes, 5ft7, academically and sportingly average. Generally, Steve was thought of as regular, nobody took notice of him and he didn’t know his direction in life. Steve attends the Darlington state school and studies English, Maths, ICT, Business studies, French, German and Spanish. He was unusual in the fact that he liked living with his parent, they got on well; yet everyone has their arguments, unfortunately for Steve that day was today. Karen was a single mum, left to raise Steve when he was very young. Steve had never met his dad, never wanted to. His mum had brought him up to hate his father and he did just that. His mother had fallen out with him over something so insignificant yet it would be the last words shared between them.
It was mid afternoon and Steve was searching round the old tunnel system installed under the city. He was there really to escape the consequences of what had happened earlier in the day. Classed as useless by the Darlington City Office, the tunnels were left to decay and rust. Most of the water and Antium pipes have either burst or been redirected as free resources.
I should explain: Antium was a new source of fuel found on Mars on an expedition in 2014. It’s a mixture of Martian stone and heavy water. It became a race for fuel and suddenly, the whole planet has disappeared, only pictures and stories to tell of the red planet closest to ours. Shows the behaviour of humans today, devouring everything to sustain a selfish lifestyle.
Steve had found a bunker with rusty hinges and had managed to pry the door open with a crowbar. Inside he found, a large room with three beds, one refrigerator, one large box of dehydrated food, three survival kits of assorted sizes, one radio station connected to all other stations around Europe and three doors; presumably leading to the next endless corridor. Steve had always cherished this place like a home, a place to escape from reality. He didn’t bring any friends down here, nor did he want to. It was a place for Steve and him alone. He laid down on the moist beds, pulled out a book from the collection left here by the previous inhabitants and opened a packet of crisps. The book was about nuclear warfare in World War 2 and how technology has greatly improved in the nuclear industry. He took a minute to imagine how destructive Nuclear weapons have become, not just as a physical weapon; but as an emotional fuel. A substance which can change people, evolve people. Steve quickly shook off the thoughts of the outbreaks in London and began to search the room.
As every three families owned one bunker, many personalised it by adding certain items which were special to them. Many weren’t items worth monetary value, but Steve was no thief. He was interested in people’s lives and tried to determine the families’ personalities by the things they owned. This bunker was different, it had been stripped of all valuable materials, the survival kits were empty and most of the food was gone. The pipes had been redirected to a nearby house and the copper wiring in the radio had been ripped out. The last place Steve looked was under the beds. A solitary card lay on the floor. He got down on his knees and grabbed the card. It was a regular playing card with the face of the red joker upon it. Upon turning the card over he found a faded sentence, etched into the card. It read:
‘Let God protect us from the chaos of the world, for the Leaders are a pair of Jokers.’
Steve was surprised at the bluntness of this statement and continued to search for the other cards but to no avail. He slipped the card into his pocket and settled down on the bed. He closed his eyes for a few minutes, and fell asleep to the dripping of the overhanging water pipe.
Saturday 28 May 2011
Devastation Lab Prologue
Prologue
In the city of York, 2016 just after the second outbreak of noxious gas in central London, a professor was sent to the Collinton lab to work on a cure for those affected. A German scientist by the name of Dr Streinhen, no one knew his first name, no one cared. Most of the public just thought he was mad, a lunatic with no hope of ever finding a cure. The rest of us thought he was a genius. In the end it didn’t matter. He used the power he obtained to secure all nuclear weapons in the main countries. The Doctor was the head of an organisation which wanted the rebirth of Earth. A new generation with deformities and curses. It didn’t bother anyone, nobody took interest, they didn’t believe him. People carried on with their lives until 2017, February 10th, when the worst infection of the human race was about to spread.
About the author
Hello!
First of all I'd like to thank you for visiting my blog,
and secondly I thought I'd tell you what I'm doing here:
I want to share my story with the world, without selling it in shops, online or selling it at all. I'm here for feedback. Every week I will try to post a chapter; chapters are about 1 page long. The story is written in a day by day, present event, 3rd person narrative.
Enjoy and please comment.
First of all I'd like to thank you for visiting my blog,
and secondly I thought I'd tell you what I'm doing here:
I want to share my story with the world, without selling it in shops, online or selling it at all. I'm here for feedback. Every week I will try to post a chapter; chapters are about 1 page long. The story is written in a day by day, present event, 3rd person narrative.
Enjoy and please comment.
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