Dream Journal Ultimate
Date: 4/21/2020
By ItsABlackCat
I was in a camp, where kids could study a bunch of animals which were housed in big areas connected to / inside of the building. We started to split up into camp ‘groups’, with little group leaders. At first it’s all well, different groups of kids have fun at station-like areas and the whole place rotates, so the kids get to see everything but one place isn’t too crowded at a time. Then, some strange things happen. First off, this place is on an island, and the first strange thing is when boats stop coming, and connections to outside world shut off; then suddenly strange green substances start being noticed, just peeks of it dripped randomly like someone had carried a just-barely melting popsicle through the halls. Then, alarms go off, and the building starts to crumble; locked doors unlock, cages open up, nobody knows where the main director guy is, so everyone runs in opposite directions in a panic. I’m at the top story but since most people here are either old enough that they’re responsible for kids, or young enough that they’re confused, I seem to be in a calmer, more rational state of mind. I get down to the lower level pretty fast by using the stairwell, while everyone else waits for the elevators to turn on or is still busy trying to find all their kids. At the second or maybe third story, I see a boy maybe six or seven at most, crying and looking around, not knowing what to do. He’s just outside the stairwell, so I run over, and ask “are you okay? Where is your group?” He says, “I don’t know, my sister and them left me, I don’t know where they are,” so I tell him I’ll find them and give him a piggy back ride so I can get him out of the building, because I can run a lot faster than he can with his short, stubby children’s legs. I emerge outside, to a beach area of the island, and a bunch of people are there including some adult camp group leaders. It seems safe so I drop the boy there and say, “Do you see your sister?” He says, “she’s not here, I think she’s still inside cause she always hid in that back storage room when she was scared, near the bunny cage.” So I say, “I’m going to go find your sister, but stay here, okay?” The boy nods and I run back into the building. It’s started to be less hectic because crowds have dispersed, and the alarms broke so now there’s no electricity to be seen anywhere. Lights dangle from the ceiling, broken, and papers and items are scattered everywhere; the doors and cages that had been so securely locked and even hidden before are now wide open and eerily empty. As I run through the halls looking for the little girl, I notice more and more of that green substance, like that classic superhero-film acid, sleeping along the edges of the walls in the cages, dripping from misplaced panels in the ceiling, occasionally splattered somewhere or staining the mud. As I go deeper into the building more and more things seem amiss. Chairs are pushed aside in what seems less like a hectic scramble and more like someone running for their life. That green liquid drips from vents, down walls, stains the floor and those previously-cute science posters, and even runs down from the broken lights on the ceiling, dripping on the floor in dangerous splatters, sounding like a leaky shower. The place is almost silent except sometimes I swear I hear yelling, maybe screaming, and I feel like I’m being watched. I head deeper into the facility regardless, because I know my way around really well and I can’t just let a little girl stay here if I could possibly save her (although as I think that, I wonder what I’m even saving her from...? The thought is so sure yet it sends shivers down my spine...). I eventually get to the back storage rooms, and see what used to be the bunny cage. The hair on the back of my neck stands up, some sort of instinct I didn’t know I had taking over. I crouch down a bit and strip off my shoes, so my steps are almost silent, and I lower my breath and try to keep it as quiet as I can considering I just ran up three flights of stairs and down about a thousand hallways. Glass set into the particular hallway shows a large open field with trees and everything, and an open sky above it which is currently gray. Based on what I can recall from memory, if I move into the back rooms, I’d see that the cage leads into a roofed structure, almost like a space in between the walls turned into something else. Black, wired cage material covered the walls of the back storage room I know the boy was talking about, so that I could reach my fingers through and touch the bunnies if I’m lucky. The space is only about four feet wide before there’s another, more final wall to the building, but it’s more sheltered than their outdoor space and it stretches all around the room, so that three out of four walls in the final storage area are made of wire. I see something off about the place as soon as I enter that glass part of the hallway. The same green stuff drips from the sides of the walls, the edges of the floor where grass meets brick, and it even drips down some of the black wire cage. More importantly, though, is that the bunnies are nowhere to be seen. There had only been three or four, maximum, so I convince myself that they’re hiding. But I know better, deep down. I have good ears and quick eyes and I would be able to spot a bunny in there any day. As I enter the back storage room, there’s nothing. No sounds of grass rustling or snuffling or leaves crunching, not even the soft thumps on dirt that rabbits make. And since the building is so quiet right now I know I would be able to hear something. Though I scan the enclosure as I walk, I see no movement, and the bunnies’ white fur which normally stands out against the grass is completely missing. The back storage room has a door on the wall, made of the same black wire, which leads to the bunny enclosure. It was only used to feed the animals or check up on them, and normally it was locked. But now, it stood ajar, the lock either broken or turned off because of the power. I don’t see a little girl anywhere, so I focus on a spot in the grass and listen, like I always do when I want to try and find something by ear. Then, I hear it. Soft breathing, but hitched; most likely a child’s, probably a girl’s, and definitely the breath of someone who’s scared. It’s coming from my left, just behind my field of view, where the wire cage cuts off and the brick walls surround the enclosure on both sides to give the bunnies some privacy. I try to lean far to the right to peek around the corner, but I can’t see the end of the enclosure where I know the breathing is coming from. When I slowly push the cage door open, I realize that adrenaline is pumping through my veins. My heart beats in my ears and I take a deep breath but somehow, I feel like I shouldn’t be loud here. If this kid was scared, why wasn’t she screaming? Yelling? Even crying, loudly? The only explanation was that the thing that was scaring her was still nearby. That, or she was badly hurt. I try not to think of what I would find with the latter, and step carefully through the cage door. My steps are deliberately slow, and even my breathing is controlled, in order to make as little sound as possible. My movements are so slow that I’m barely moving. When my foot hits the grass there’s a soft rustle. I wince, and keep going, stepping on dirt whenever I can, thanking my parents for having such a skinny, lightweight child because if I were bigger there’s no way I’d be able to be this quiet. My senses are pricked up to the maximum. I hear the child’s breath, the wind, even snatches of murmuring from far away, maybe yelling that I heard earlier too, though I don’t know if I’m imagining it or not. My eyes move so rapidly in my head they start to hurt, looking this way and that, noticing all of the horribly wrong things about this situation. There are various tools scattered about the enclosure, like someone had come in to fix something and left suddenly. The wrench is close to the corner, splatted with a bit of the green stuff, and the screwdriver, which is almost in the outdoor part of the enclosure, is completely covered in the stuff; all of them are pushed down into the grass so that they appear one by one as I walk near them, making my heart leap, thinking it’s something else. The walls near the end of the enclosure get more and more green, and as I turn the corner I see the back is almost entirely covered in it, like waterfalls of acid-green liquid had poured down into the grass before freezing solid. At the end I see a little girl, crouched in the very corner, so small and hidden I barely notice her. She’s holding very, very still, and her eyes glow up from the darkness, wide and white, glancing all about like I’m sure mine are. The expression on her face is terrified; and terrifying, because I can’t see or hear anything nearby that should scare her so much, and that scares me, too. When she notices me her eyes grow wider and she almost stops breathing altogether; I creep towards her with my palms facing her, and when I reach her she shakes her head. “What’s wrong?” I mouth. Her breaths start hitching again and she shakes her head and nods at the part of the enclosure I came from. Then I hear a soft thump coming from inside of the storage room. The girls eyes grow and her breathing becomes more and more hitched, and suddenly she starts shaking uncontrollably, and I realize with some sort of dread that whatever she was scared of had probably never left. In fact, it’s perfect timing suggested that it had waited for me to come in, find the child, and then hide with her, leaving both of us cornered helplessly. I hold a finger to my lips and creep forward, silently, silently, holding my breath. I hear more thumping, one, two steps. It’s almost to the enclosure door, if my ears are telling me right. And I’m almost to the cage. I see the wrench and immediately think, I need that. I creep forward and I’m at the cage, and then I see it. It’s a bunny, at first, but then my heart sinks to my stomach as I realize- no, that thing is not a bunny. It’s fur is white but matted with sticky red and green spots, blood and that weird stuff, and it’s eyes are rolled back into its head bulging with green veins, covered in a thin veil of green tears. It’s about four to five times bigger than an actual rabbit should be and I notice veins popping out all on its legs and arms, like those people who are so incredibly, terribly muscular, that you can see all their veins. It seems almost bloated, every surface of it seems stretched so I can look past the white fluff, and see it’s skin, which is drained white, and tinted ever-so-slightly green. It’s ears turn in opposite directions and it’s mouth opens a bit so it can chatter, and I see two long, deadly teeth, teeth that are way too thin and blade-like at the ends. It’s lower ‘lip’ and jaw is all bloody from where it’s unnaturally sharp teeth have rested, and I see blood dribble from its mouth, mixed with a slight swirl of almost glowing green. I keep holding my breath and try to creep towards the wrench, but then it’s head snaps towards me, along with both ears. I think, oh no, I’m not cut out for this. I’m not like those people in the movies who can fight off monsters and get through these situations. I’m the type of person who’s going to die, because I don’t know what to do and I’m not strong or fast or knowledgeable about whatever the hell this thing is. It passes through the cage door almost cutely, and for a second I think, maybe it won’t hurt me. It’s just sitting in the grass, looking at me. I go to reach for the wrench, just in case, and it pounces. I hold my arm up to right where it was going to leap, my face, and my forearm strikes it right in the stomach, sending it flying back. My eyes go to the wrench and I crawl desperately towards it but the rabbit-thing leaps again, flying at me with incredible speed, and I hold my arm out again, then feel a sharp pain and warmth as it bites into my arm and blood flows down to my elbow. Without thinking I’ve used my other palm to give it a good shove, right in the nose, and it squeals unnaturally, and scrambles backwards, shaking it’s head and snuffling. I lunge towards the wrench again right as the bunny goes to jump, and reach it in the nick of time- literally. Just as my hand closes around the wrench, I turn and kick my foot out blindly as hard as I can. I feel it connect with something and see the bunny go flying backwards, and then, in midair, it twists over and lands on its feet, not wasting a second. It runs towards me as it hits the ground and I place both hands on the wrench and think back to all those years playing baseball in the backyard with my dad. As soon as the bunny is right in front of me, I swing with all my might (which usually isn’t much, but to be fair I was scared shitless, pumped full of adrenaline and also putting my full weight into this swing), and the bunny squeals again. I jump on top of it and swing again and again, and somehow I don’t feel THAT bad about killing it because instead of blood, green liquid seeps from the bunny. When it’s become motionless I look at it for a second, then, in a state of pure disgust, curiosity, and paralyzed suspicion, I dig my fingers into the rabbit’s fur around its chest- which was split open from the impact of the wrench- and feel them submerge in the green liquid, which was oddly cold. It push my fingers deeper and feel more liquid, and soon I’m wrist deep in the rabbit, but there’s nothing but the liquid in there. And soon I realize that this bunny has been dead for a long time. I didn’t kill it, I just put it to rest. If anything I killed a monster which had reanimated the bunny’s corpse. That made me feel a bit less guilty. I quickly remember the girl, and pull my hand from the rabbit, making a squelching sound that makes me feel nauseous. I see her in the corner, head hidden in her knees, arms wrapped around her legs, curled in a tight ball. “Hey,” I whisper, because I had just killed the rabbit but as far as I knew, there are more than one. “Hey,” I repeat. “It’s okay, I made it stop. I’m going to go take you outside. Your brother’s been waiting for you.” The girl peeks up and sees me, then sees my green hand and sniffles and whimpers. I realize what this means- it wasn’t just the rabbit that scared her. Anything ‘infected’ or filled with that green stuff was just as horrifying. I think of all the animals missing from cages and go cold. A mutated rabbit was one thing, but what would I do if we came across a wolf? A bear? A cheetah? I shake my head and say, “don’t worry, I’m normal. My hand’s just green from touching that rabbit.” I nod towards its body and the girl whispers in a tremulous voice, “is it dead?” I bite my lip. “It was already dead when it was attacking us,” I say slowly, trying to explain. “But the liquid made it seem like it wasn’t. I put it to rest, so it won’t bother us anymore.” Thankfully the girl just nods and I say again, “here, climb onto my back and I’ll take you to your brother. I don’t want to stay here for too long.” As I say this I glance around the enclosure. The girl nods again, sniffles, and sits up. Her clothes are stained with blood and I say, “are you okay?” “Yeah,” she says. “This isn’t my blood.” I don’t inquire any further, I just turn around and squat a little. I feel her arms and legs wrap around me and once I’m sure that she’s secure, I rise and start moving back through the halls again. I move quickly but at the same time I refrain from running, not wanting to make too much sound. When we get to the room with chairs pushed aside I definitely hear yelling from far off, and despite every cell in my body wanting to go and help that poor soul, I hoist the girl farther up my back and quicken my pace. Once we’re to the main lobby, almost out of the building, she sniffles again and says, “is Caroline out there?” “What does Caroline look like?” I ask, panting a bit. These kids weren’t heavy but I also wasn’t strong, and carrying them all this way, back and forth, was making my legs and arms a little tired. The girl describes another girl, five years old with jet black hair and a single red streak. Her skin is brown- “her mommy has dark skin like nighttime but her daddy has really light skin, kinda like snow,” the girl explains helpfully- and her eyes are dark brown, too. I rack my brain, trying to remember if I’d seen that girl anywhere. She sounds like she’d be somewhat memorable. But unfortunately I can’t come up with anything. “I don’t think so,” I say, “but where do you remember her being last?” The girl tightens her grip around my neck as I walk out onto the beach, where some leaders have started to organize their groups and make head-counts. As I come out I see the little boy smile and say to one of the leaders, a lady maybe in her late thirties, “see, I told you she was coming!” I drop the girl off and the girl turns and says, “her group was on the third floor. It was above that place with the chairs.” Where we heard the screaming, she means, but doesn’t have to say it. I nod and the woman takes the girl and says, “thank you, dear, where is your group?” I shrug, saying, “I was on the top floor when it all started.” Then I say to the little girl, “okay, I’ll try and find your friend, because I think I know where she might be.” The lady says, “I don’t know if you should go in there, something seems strange.” I reply darkly, “yeah, that place is deadly now. Don’t let anyone in. The animals, they’ve been...” I glance at the kids who are watching me, mouths open. “The animals have been, uh, changed... They’re dangerous. Even the smaller ones like rabbits.” “The rabbit was the size of a dog, and tried to kill her and me!” the girl adds excitedly. “But she killed it first! It had green blood!” The lady’s brow creases. Her eyes go to my fist which is still coated in green goop. “Then you shouldn’t be going in there, either,” she says. I shake my head. “Most of their danger is in the fact that people don’t know anything about what’s happening. I mean, she-“ I gesture to the little girl- “was one of the first to realize that they were dangerous and when I found her, she didn’t have barely a scratch. I think they’re strong, but I also think they die pretty quickly.” I pull the lady aside from the kids and lower my voice. “They’re all completely mutated as far as I know. The green stuff inside of them, I think it’s being used as some sort of substitute. After I ‘killed’ that rabbit I looked inside, and it had nothing in it’s body. No organs, no blood, hardly and veins. Just that green stuff. Since they’re not even alive to begin with, I think they can be put down quickly. You just have to survive long enough.” I lick my lips. “I mean, I can’t just stay out here and do nothing when I know what I know. Plus, I’ve faced one of em before so if anything I’m the person who should go back in and look for survivors. I just have more wisdom on the subject, and more practice, if you wanna call it that.” Plus, I had an extreme hero complex that wouldn’t let me just stay there without trying to help, but I didn’t tell her that. The lady blinks tiredly at me. “Okay. How did you kill that rabbit?” “A wrench,” I mutter. She shakes her head. Then she calls to the children and tells them to stay put, and leads me to a small shed nearby. It’s usually locked but now the door hangs open like all the others. “Here,” she says, and turns on the light. The walls are lined with axes, machetes, and even a few wicked looking butcher knives. “Woah,” I say. “They’re usually for handling the wood and meat and stuff around here,” she murmurs, “but you should take one or two of these to be safe.” I nod. “Thanks. Do you know of anyone else who’s still inside?” She shakes her head. I nod again and she leaves to go back to the kids. I choose a small but sharp pocket knife and a much bigger, but still lightweight butcher knife. I secure the pocket knife inside of my pocket and grip the machete tightly in my hand. Then I go back into the building. A few group leaders look at me strangely, since I probably look like I’m going in to like, murder some kids or something, but the lady pulls them aside and must explain because nobody stops me. When I reach the staircase I start to sweat in anticipation. Blood and green stuff splatters along the stairs and wall. On the second floor, I hear an odd shout that’s cut short. I decide not to investigate, although I feel guilty for doing so. When I reach the third floor I head towards the center of the building, above where I know the chairs to be. I thank my past self for offering to lead the kids through their tours of the place during the first week of camp, because now I know every inch of the building. When I get close I hear whimpering and a few shouts, from across the building perhaps. There’s blood trailing down the hall into some sort of committee room- if never been allowed inside before, but of course now, like everything else, it was open. I creep inside, machete raised, and see a man- he seems to be a group leader, maybe fifty, give or take a few years. He’s panting and laying, clutching his leg. It’s bleeding heavily, but not enough to seem deadly if I can get him to some help. “Sir,” I whisper as loud as I dare. His eyes shoot to the doors behind him, which have been barricaded with an office chair and several smaller tables. “Sir, I’m here to help. Are there any kids here?” He nods, a pained look on his face. “I left em in classroom A1. Figured it was maybe an attacker or something. Told em to barricade the door, then left to try and lure the shooter or whatever away. Turns out it wasn’t a person.” “I know,” I say, cutting him off, “it’s the animals. They’ve been mutated; they’re stronger but also easier to kill. Listen, can you walk well enough to get back to the staircase on your own? It’s just down that hall, there’s no animals there as far as I know.” The man stands and says, “the kids...” “I’m here for them,” I explain, holding up the machete. He blinks through a layer of sweat. “I’ve killed one before,” I say when he raises an eyebrow. “I know how they work, so I figured I could help. Plus, if someone doesn’t put these things down, they’re gonna eventually find everyone. There’s hardly any food in this building and the ships have stopped coming.” The man nods hesitantly then limps into the hallway. I watch until I see him reach the staircase, then turn and look through the barricaded door. There’s a bloody trail leading from the hall, to this room. Green splatters follow it. Long scratch marks line the walls and floor, and I try to remember what animal was kept here, but I can’t seem to recall. Regardless, I slowly unbarricade the door, but keep the stuff nearby so I can quickly barricade it again if need be. Then I listen and watch for a bit, and when I hear nothing I creep ahead. I remember how the rabbit had remained silent until I lead him to the children and my stomach starts to twist with fear. Those things weren’t alive. They weren’t natural. I couldn’t rely on things like listening for their breathing to help me find them. I had to be vigilant. I get to classroom A1 very quickly. It’s at the end of the hall. I whisper to the door, “Listen, it’s me, remember, Ella? I need to come in, and your leader is okay- he left, and I’m gonna save you guys.” I wait impatiently as the silence stretches out into minutes. I glance all around, expecting something to leap out at me any minute. The door peeks open and a small child looks up at me. I quickly squeeze through and shut the door behind me, trying to be fast but quiet. A group of kids huddle near a broken window. The boy who let me in says, “what’s happening?” I whisper to the kids, “listen, you guys remember the animals that we saw all around here?” A few nod. Encouraged, I say, “now, this is really important okay? Does anyone remember what animal was in this place? Nearby here?” A little girl nods. I look at her, waiting. Eventually she whispers in the tiniest voice ever, “lion.” I wince. “Okay, listen guys,” I whisper, trying to sound reassuring. “This lion- he’s not right anymore. He’s been let loose, and he’s very dangerous, okay? I’m gonna try and get you guys out of here, but you can’t make any sound or let anything through that door, or else it might find us. And try not to move too much, either, okay?” A few more nod and I look around the room. My eyes land on the window. Looking out, I can see people filing out into groups on the beach. The only problem is, we’re three stories up. Then I have a dangerous idea. “Hey, can everyone take off their shirts and pants? It’s very important. It might get us out of here.” The kids take off their clothes except for underwear and huddle back together. I take off my jacket and shirt, but leave my pants on because they have my pocket knife in the pocket. Then I tie the clothes together. Luckily, a lot of the kids had jackets and extra layers. I soon have a very decent looking rope. I go over and crack the window, then look down. Someone spots me. I wave my arms and throw down the rope, but it only covers about two and a half stories- the rest of the way down is still quite a fall. “Okay, guys, here’s what’s gonna happen,” I say, hoisting the rope back up. “I’m gonna tie this rope around your waists, one by one, and lower you down to the people on the beach. Just hold on to the rope, until you’re down, okay? Who’s gonna go first?” The boy who opened the door comes forward and I tie the rope around his waist, being extra careful to make sure it’s secure. A crowd has formed near the bottom, ready to help. Then I lift him out of the window, so he’s sitting on the small ledge before the fall. I’ve tied the end of the rope to a little pillar-like part of the windowsill and also have it tightly gripped in both of my hands, but I’m still nervous. I tell the little boy, “you can lower yourself down. You won’t get hurt, I promise.” He lets himself fall. Immediately I feel the rope strain and plant my feet firmly against the wall, holding it. Then, inch by inch, I let the rope go a little more, until it’s all down and pulled taut. I feel something pulling at the end and then the weight is gone. I look over and find relief when I see a few of the group leaders towering themselves to grab the boy from the rope. They lower him to safety and I repeat the process with all the other kids. My arms are burning by now. I realize I still have to get down. I secure the machete in my pocket as best I can and tie the rope tighter around the pillar thing on the windowsill. Then, I climb onto the ledge, and, clutching the rope, start my descent. I feel the rope strain as soon as I start climbing, so I go as fast as I can. My arms and legs burn but I was actually decent at this stuff in gym class so I pray that it helps in some way. When I’m halfway down, I feel the rope jerk, and something cracks. I look down and then let go of the rope, falling, and grab it again when I’m almost at the bottom. The rope makes my hands and legs blister from the friction, and almost immediately after I reach the bottom of the rope, I feel it give in, and the entire thing crashes down. I feel the weightlessness of falling before pairs of arms catch me. I’m lowered to the ground, shaking, and see the rope- which is tied to a part of the pillar still- tangled near the doorway. I look at the camp leaders and am happy to see the man I’d found earlier, with fresh bandages on his leg. “Thank you,” I say to the crowd, and the kids are whisked off into groups again just like that. Then I hear the director’s voice boom across the beach. “Well-done! I’m surprised this many of you survived. Although going back in and saving them is a bit like cheating, Ella, don’t you think? Aww, c’mon. It ruins the fun! ‘Survival of the fittest’ is what they say!” I find where the voice is coming from by closing my eyes and listening- there’s a speaker hidden in each of the bushes against the side of the building. Somehow they still work. I pull the branches apart to inspect the speaker and it booms loudly, popping my ears. “Well now, just because I called you a cheater doesn’t mean you have to silence me! After all, there’s a thousand other speakers I could use, so it’s no use for you to do anything.” I glare at the speaker. It continues. “Now, you all seem very informed about what’s happening- again, Ella, cheating ruins the fun- but no matter. I’ve decided to run my own experiment here. Y’see, you guys don’t realize that I’m trying to find new creatures to test. I need to see reactions and the drive of survival! But for having lived thus far, I’ve decided to reward you. Check the main lobby for your prize.” As soon as the speakers crackle off, and a silence begins, I say loudly to the group leaders, “there’s a fifty fifty chance that this is a trap, maybe even higher. If anyone’s gonna go to check it out, it should be just one person.” They all exchange glances then nod in agreement. Then they stare at me. I realize, since I’ve been the ‘hero’ this far, I kind of have to do it now. I walk through the doors into the lobby with my machete drawn. In the center of the lobby there’s a needle, extended from a strange, wire-like device in the ground. The needle is filled with the green stuff- but strangely, it seems altered. It’s glowing much more brightly and is almost yellow. And there’s hardly any of it in the syringe to begin with, in comparison to the huge amounts of green fluid everywhere else. I approach it, thinking of what it could be. Perhaps an antidote to something- an antidote to the mutations? But that would be impossible, seeing as their organs were all liquified. Maybe an antidote meant for humans, that seemed more fitting as a reward. Was there a possibility that this green stuff was ‘infectious’ in a way? Would we start mutating if we’d taken in any of the stuff? If that was true then there’s no way I wasn’t infected. This could be a cure. Or maybe it was all just a trap- the thought lingered in my mind and kept me from grabbing the needle. I stare at it indecisively. Then I decide that I’m better off not touching it until I know what it does, and turn to leave. But as I do so I hear mechanical whirring and feel a sharp pain in my neck. I stumble forwards, turning to see the needle withdrawing, empty. My neck pulses where the needle entered my veins. I think, yep, this was a trap, I need to get out of here, and stumble as fast as I can to the door. I manage to make it outside but everything’s strange. My vision is blurring then clearing like a camera losing then finding focus, on and off. My ears are pounding with my heart, but in between each beat I can hear everything as if it’s a thousand times louder than normal, which hurts my head. My limbs feel like lead. I mutter, “be careful, they stuck me with a needle.” I look at the lady. “I don’t know how it works exactly, but... I might... be infected or something... you know, like the creatures... just be careful...” Then in the dream, I can’t remember what happened for a bit. Maybe I passed out in the dream or something. But then, I wake up, and I feel... strange. My head pounds. I crack my eyes open and they’re crusted over with eye sand, so I rub my eyes to clear it away. I’m still on the same beach where I collapsed, but nobody else is there. I move to sit up and find that I’ve been restrained somehow; looking down I see chains tightly bound together around my wrists, and attached to a makeshift pole in the ground. It’s sloppy work, obviously done quickly. I go to focus on a spot and listen, but find that I barely even need to do anything in order to hear what I want to hear; worried talking is coming from a building nearby, away from the main building that I’m tied to now. I pull at the restraints, shrugging, to see if I can escape, and duck when I accidentally pull the entire pole out of the ground. It flies over my head and lands with a dull, metallic “THUNK” behind me. I turn and inspect the pole. It’s not small or flimsy or anything- if I had to estimate I’d say it was around 560 or 570 pounds by the look of it. It was pretty tall too, almost 7 feet. So then how did I pull it through the air so easily? I step on the chain, which is now on the ground, with one foot, plant the other foot firmly on the ground, and pull my wrists, as if trying to slip them from the chain. I hear a strange clicking and creaking and suddenly the chain breaks straight down the middle, falling to pieces. I pull my wrists from the chains and massage the outer edges, which are red from the chains. Then I notice a small box near where I had been sitting. I open the box with caution but all I find is a can of beans and a plastic water bottle. I pick up the bottle and startle myself when I see my reflection. My face is suddenly really, really smooth, almost aerodynamically, and my eyes have little snakelike slits instead of pupils. They shrink as I watch my reflection. I look down at myself for the first time and recoil. My arms are disgustingly muscled, with veins standing out all over. My legs are the same. I pull off my socks and shoes hurriedly and see that my feet have claws coming from each toe. Then I twist and turn, trying to look at the rest of my body. I feel my neck and it’s bulging with muscle, despite being just as small as it was before. I feel my teeth with my tongue and wince when I run it over something incredibly sharp, and taste blood. Carefully I open my mouth and gently poke the same spot. My canines have been extended and sharpened to sharp points. Then I run a hand through my hair and it’s relatively unchanged, save for an odd silkiness which makes it feel more like strings of some expensive fabric than hair. It looks basically the same, though. I glance around and then pull off the shirt I’m wearing, which is one of the camp T-shirts- an XXL, probably, just something the other camp leaders managed to find. My stomach is a bit more muscled but not overly like my arms and legs, I just have a bit more of a defined V-line really. My breasts are the same, too, thank god, because if they had been as veiny as my arms I would’ve lost it. I feel something weird on my back, and reach to feel it. I freeze. I have wings. I turn and crane my head, and manage to see it. I shiver. Then I continue feeling the rest of my body. On my jaw, under my throat, there are three strange slits that pulse whenever I breathe. I pinch my nose and mouth and try to take a breath and find that, although the slits pulse as if to breathe the same way, I struggle to bring in any air. From my tailbone there’s a thin tail, almost like a cat’s, with fur the color of my hair, and the same texture too. At the end was a sharp, pointed stinger that looked like a scorpion’s. The tips of my ears were elongated, kind of like your classic ‘elf ears,’ but it was flatter too, and I’m assuming the structure of it was part of why I could hear so well. There were small webs in between my fingers and toes, skin stretched across to make odd little dips. Finally, there was my breathing. Normally I struggled a bit with this, as I had asthma and generally sucky lungs. But now my lungs felt... amazing. I didn’t struggle to breathe at all, and in fact, every breath I took seemed to invigorate me even more, to fill me with energy. After checking out all of my new mutations, I test them out. I flick my tail, using the brand new muscles to point the stinger outwards so I don’t accidentally sting myself. I flex my wings, roll them back, and finally try flapping them, with some success. One of the times I manage to lift myself from the air a bit, but fall almost immediately. I keep practicing and eventually manage to actually fly. It’s a bit clumsy and awkward, and not as smooth as I’d like it to be- plus, I still was terrible at landings- but I decided it was good enough. The sun had set already and darkness pulled over the island like a thick sheet, with little holes revealing stars and galaxies in the night sky. I drank the water from the water bottle but didn’t bother eating the beans. My stomach growled but I didn’t trust the worn, battered can. Somehow I felt like it was old, and anyhow I wanted more to eat than just cold beans. I rise into the air and once I’m high enough I survey the island. My new eyes have some sort of night vision ability because I can see perfectly even though it must be pitch black. There’s the huge building in the center, where I had just been, and then there were a few storage buildings and other areas off to the left and right of the island. I use my ears to hone in on the sounds of people and fly towards it. I reach a slightly bigger building, still small in comparison to the main one but definitely big enough to house the remaining people. The thought makes my skin crawl. How many people had died here already? Did they even have a body count? How many children were ‘missing’ or missing their siblings? I tip my wings with the awkwardness of little practice, and plummet downwards, towards the beach area right next to the building. At the last minute I pull them up and glide to a halt, stumbling as I land on the unsteady sand. I manage to keep on my feet and fold up my wings. Then, shivering under the XXL T-shirt and too-large jeans, I look around. In some amazing stroke of luck I find a big black cloak, probably meant for rainstorms based on the thin, plastic material. I slip it over my head and pull up the hood, and push my hair forwards so my weirdly shaped ears are hidden. I fold my wings as tightly as I can beneath the cloak, clenching them together to be as small as possible. I curl my tail up and around my torso, to keep it from showing beneath the edge of the cloak. Finally I press my fingers together to hide the webs and walk up to the tightly bolted door. I knock, once, twice, three times. The talking inside stops and I hear shushing, along with adult voices whispering, “remember what we told you, DONT move, okay?” I step back a bit and look around at the windows. I see a pair of eyes peek from the corner of the window, at an angle so that the darkness would completely conceal him if I didn’t have this night vision. I try not to look at him. Then I say, as loud as I dare, “um, guys, it’s just me. I’m kind of cold and I’m also hungry. Just figured I should let you know that I’m awake.” The man creeps out of view and back into one of the building’s rooms, and I hear murmured arguing. Then some shuffling, and footsteps approaching the door. Bolts click, snap, and unlock, grinding metal on metal. Then the door is cracked open and I see the woman from earlier, the first one I’d spoken to. Behind her is the man I’d saved from the building, whose kids I had lifted down with the rope made of clothes. “You said not to trust you,” the woman whispers. In her hand is a machete. “Yeah, I didn’t know if I’d be turned into some sort of monster. Luckily, that didn’t happen.” As I say it I feel shame and guilt, and hatred for the new body I have. But I continue regardless. “I don’t really know how to prove that it’s, uh, ‘the real me,’ but if you have any ideas or tests or anything I’m all for it.” The man clears his throat. “No, it’s uh, fine. We’ve studied the green substance and we think that, based on its properties, any creature fully mutated by it would lose all memories and previous functions- you know, instincts, stuff like that.” “Somehow they’ve been wired to attack, and that’s it. They don’t even defend themselves,” the woman adds. I frown. “I’m pretty sure this is the director’s doing. But what is he trying to accomplish with that?” Then another question comes to mind. “Have you guys figured out if the substance can infect other things? Like the kids, for example? I know a lot of them came into contact with it, I’m sure it entered a few of the kids’ bloodstreams. I know that happened to me, anyways.” The woman glances at the man, then pulls the door open, inviting me inside. “Thanks,” I say, stepping into the warmth. They must’ve managed to find and start up a generator. The man talks as he leads me down the hall towards another room. “Well, it’s not exactly ‘infective’ in the way you’re thinking of,” the man says slowly, “but yes, any kids who ingested the substance, or got it into their bloodstream somehow, were- er- ‘impacted,’ let’s say.” Impacted? I think. What on earth? Then the man turns to fully face me for the first time, stopped in front of a door. I stare as he continues to speak. “I think it’s better if I just show you, but be careful because we’re all very confused right now,” he says, and as he speaks I notice a tail swish behind him, a tail exactly like a lion’s. I nod, and he opens the door. Inside kids are lined against the walls, and in front of them ten or eleven group leaders stand protectively, holding knives or machetes or axes. “She’s good, guys,” the woman says, and they lower their weapons. Out of the initial 1,000 and some people that started off in this camp, only about 80-90 remain, including myself and the group leaders. The kids look at me scaredly. I gaze around the room in awe. Roughly one in every twenty people have been ‘impacted,’ as the man said. The girl I’d saved has her knees bent at an odd angle, and her ears are very elongated. It’s almost obvious what kind of ‘mutation’ took place- the rabbit I’d fought of previously. One of the kids I’d saved from the room opens his mouth occasionally to let his forked tongue flick at the air. A little girl with bright red hair sports wings growing from her back just like mine, but instead of being feathered like a birds wings, her wings more closely resemble a bat’s wings. When her head turns in my direction I notice her flat ears, and her one cloudy white eye, which seems to make her effectively ‘half’ blind. Another one of the group leaders, a lady maybe in her early twenties at most, has a flattened nose with slits, like Voldemort’s nose. The backs of her arms, legs, neck, and I’m assuming back are all plated in this hard, brown material, almost scale-like. The man with the lion’s tail looks at me somewhat anxiously. “The mutations which have taken place have to do with which ‘creature’ ‘infected’ them,” he explains. “The wound on my leg, as you know, was from a lion. The substance had gotten into my bloodstream from that, and after just twenty four hours the transformation had taken place.” “Some people show more traits than others, though,” the woman adds. “While some may only get a single, almost unnoticeable trait, others have more obvious transformations. We don’t know why exactly, yet, but we think it has to do with the compatibility between the DNA of the person in question and the substance.” I’m silent for a few seconds. Then, hesitantly, I pull back my hood and take the cloak off. “Uh, yeah, so about that...” I say, blushing a bit. “I don’t know what the director did, but I’m pretty sure I’ve ‘transformed’ into at least a dozen animals.” The man stares and so I add quickly, “a few of the traits are from various animals- I know the wings are, because I put down an ‘owl,’ and the advanced hearing is either the ‘owl’ or the ‘rabbit’ that I put down. Oh, and the tail, that could be from the lion, since I had a close call with it in the hall. But the other stuff...” I shrug helplessly. The woman says, “what did you find in the room? What happened?” I remember. “Oh, yeah! I went in there and all it was, was this tiny bit of fluid in a syringe. The fluid was basically the green substance except it was slightly different. I was going to grab it, but then decided not to and tried to leave. And then-“ I feel my tail jerk as I get angry- “the thing freakin’ stabbed me in the neck! It literally just straight up gave me whatever was in the syringe! Who knows how many animals’ substances were in there.” The woman scowls down at the ground. Around me, the other group leaders and the kids have started moving around as normal. Then she says, “how many abilities do you have?” “Huh?” She shakes her head. “Out of the few of us that did get noticeable traits, even fewer have traits with functionality. Some of the traits are just for looks, if you will- there’s only a few people in here who developed the abilities of the creature whose substance they ingested.” “Oh,” I say. “So like, if two people ingested the substance of a tiger, one might just get a tail and whiskers, while the other might get a tail and whiskers, and also advanced hearing, night vision (or cats eyes I guess), and strength?” “Exactly,” the woman says. “Well, I think I got a lot of abilities,” I admit. “I have like, way too much strength to come even close to normal. And I’m pretty fast now, too. Plus, my wings can actually allow me to fly- I dunno if that counts- and I have these gills under my chin?” I lift my head to show them. “And I’m pretty sure they’re actually functioning, but I didn’t wanna go test it out and accidentally drown myself. And I have really advanced hearing, I could hear your talking from back at the main building. Oh yeah, and my eyes are kinda freakishly good at seeing in the dark now. I could see that guy who checked in the one window.” The man shakes his head. “That’s really strange. I wonder why the director chose you, though?” “What do you mean?” I ask. “After talking, we concluded that the director had used that entire setup as a trap for you specifically. Because really, he could’ve just shot the syringe into whoever he wanted using one of those guns he has for extremely difficult patients. And if he wanted it to be completely random he could’ve just hidden the syringe on the beach and told us to find it there instead- not only would we have been okay finding it, since we didn’t have to go back into the building, but the chances of a kid finding it and using it right away, either accidentally or purposefully, would have been pretty high.” I nod. He continues: “so the only reason to place the syringe in there, under that situation, was to lure in somebody brave, willing to face whatever possible trap it was. Someone who was ‘playing the hero’ for lack of a better term. And since we know he was watching us, he would have obviously noticed that you were that person. You repeatedly went back into the building to help when nobody else would, or could either way. He WANTED you to come in, so he could specifically use the syringe on YOU.” I mull this over. “Well, you said the traits and abilities and stuff depend on the stuff’s reactivity with the person’s DNA, right?” I ask, relieved that these people were both scientists and teachers, because that means they could understand what I was trying to say. “Yes,” the woman says. “Well, could it be that maybe he singled me out not because he wanted to single the ‘hero’ out, but just because he wanted me all along, and I happened to be that ‘hero’? Like, maybe my DNA is more responsive or something. By the looks of it it is, like look at me. And he did have us do a blood test before coming to the island, to ‘ensure safety’ or whatever. Maybe that’s why.” The two of them think this over. Then the woman says, “that’s actually probably what happened. He most likely singled out the people with the most responsive DNA and made sure he could ‘experiment’ with them. After all, the chances of people having responsive DNA seems really low based on what we know, and yet a very high percentage of people in this room have responsive DNA, at least to some extend.” “True,” the man says. “It’s like he made sure to try and let the people with more responsive DNA survive, so he could watch them. And you, as the person with what we’re assuming is the most responsive DNA, would be the target for his biggest experiment.” “Well, it worked,” I grumble, glaring down at my mutated body. The man laughs and says, “listen, nobody here’s gonna judge for that. After all, the rest of us aren’t so different. We’re gonna get through this.” I nod and then quickly say, “have you sent any parties out to check for survivors?” I know the answer before he says it. “No,” the man says. “We just don’t have the resources or the people to go.” “Well, I can go,” I offer quickly. “No, you’ve risked your life enough,” the woman says firmly. “Uh, hello, I’m the only person here who’s risked their life that many times and survived. If anything that means I should definitely do it. Plus, you said yourself, you didn’t have the people. Now you do. I can go out, either alone or with someone if you choose, all I need is a pocket knife and I can hunt down any survivors and bring them here. I have the closest thing to superpowers there is. I have strength and speed and hearing and sight better than before, I can handle whatever creatures are in there. And there could be some poor kid, hungry, cold, scared, waiting in some closet hiding from a mutated tiger. But using my advanced senses I could find that kid and help them! It’s a no-brainer.” I finish with a final breath and the man says, “okay, I have some people to go with you, a few of the adults. Just be careful.” Then the dream ends.