Ian recoiled, one hand covering his eyes. But the white light burned through his eyelids regardless, and he had to turn his head away from the source. What the hell!?

  As quickly as it came, the light died down. Ian’s eyes flickered open. A still potent glow remained at the corner of his vision… towards the rear of the train. Towards…

  Birmingham!

  When he could finally look towards the light, Birmingham was gone. Instead, what had been the city skyline was now a gargantuan ball of light that expanded high into the sky. A ball that was rapidly fading into a fiery orange cloud of gas.

  The shockwave hit as hard as the train itself would have. Ian felt air rush out of his lungs as he was shoved back a foot. Crying out, he flourished his arms, struggling to stop his feet slipping from beneath him as an almighty boom screamed past his ears. A leg buckled, and he planted himself down on the rooftop on his knee. Metal shuddered all around him, and the corpses visibly stirred.

  A hole formed within him, cold and deep. Something that his fluttering jacket couldn’t help against. Anger drained away into cold sweat, only to be replaced with shock and horror, his mind consumed by the sight of the orb. The fact that an entire city was just gone. Hidden under that ball of fire.

  As he stood frozen, something else formed in vision. Another shockwave raced towards him. But not in the air. He couldn’t even gasp as the brown wave began to take shape, looking almost like a muddy wave.

  And then he realised what it was. The earth itself was detonating, throwing up a massive cloud of rock and dust as the shockwave rushed forward at an unimaginable speed. Trees were uprooted and tossed into the air in the shockwave’s wake and what structures he could still see were ripped asunder. Everything in its way was being destroyed.

  Moving far faster than any train could.

  Ian turned and ran.

  He barely took two steps when the shockwave hit.

  Metal screamed and snapped as the carriage lunged forward beneath him. His feet were torn away from the roof, the sky a blur as his head whacked back into the roof. Vents rocketed away, bolts shot off like bullets as the carriage crumpled, little more than a tin can beneath him. Before he knew it, he was airborne, the train’s dying screech ringing in his ears as he flew.

  Ian’s only reaction was to scream.

  It was the gnawing that finally brought him back.

  Ian snapped up with the beginning of a roar, hands shooting blindly out for the beast trying to-

  His side burned, and his threat died into a whimper. His vision darkened and blurred as he rolled his head over to the site of that slow, sharp burning sensation. Instead of some monster chewing its way through him, there was a shard of jagged metal sticking into his side. Punched clean through.

  All rational thought went away as instinct took over. His abdomen felt like it was on fire as he tried to push himself up. The shrapnel dug in deeper, tearing through his flesh. Agony flooded his mind, but clamping down on his tongue, he grasped the shard with both hands and pulled.

  Every muscle screamed at him to stop, but desperation won out and with a sickening squelch, he yanked it free. His vision flashed red as he tossed the bloody fragment aside and got onto his knees… only to lunge forward as gunk shot out of his mouth, scorching his throat and sending a convulsion through his core. That only him hack up more of his guts. But as he finally managed to gasp for breath; the red in his vision didn’t fade away. Or did it?

  He blinked and focused on the pool of gunk he had thrown up, only instead of finding the vomit he was expecting, the pool remained a deep, crimson red. Blood.

  He had thrown up nothing but his own blood.

  Ian’s stomach churned. Weak, desperate not to vomit up more, he forced himself to look around. The twisted wreckage of the train surrounded him from all sides; carriages were crumpled and squished. Others had been snapped clean in half. He could just see the locomotive itself leaning over one of the wrecked cars, still and silent as its front stared into the orange sky. Iron and steel creaked and moaned, on the brink of failing within the scrap pile.

  A low whine rose, and Ian just had the strength to lean back onto his knees to see a Little Bird hover over him and past the next carriage. It’s rotors a low, almost lazy whump in ears.

  With a groan, Ian stumbled to his feet and began to walk. Something still gnawed away at his insides, every step sending up a flood of pain rushing up his core like a hot blade.

  I… there is no more time…

  It wouldn’t be long now…

  Wincing, Ian pushed himself onwards towards a gap in the debris. Voices called out from beyond it, the damned soldiers, it had to be.

  He reached the gap, but his feet slipped and Ian stumbled forward. His shoulder slammed into ruined metal with a clang, sending another jolt of pain racing up and down his arm. Despite that, Ian grinded his teeth and continued onwards.

  It’s time…

  It was a faint voice. Not his own.

  No…

  He stumbled again, bumping into another carriage-

  The door screeched as it broke free, crashing down to the ground. A dark, bloodied shape fell out with it, with his cold, still eyes staring up at him.

  Jeb…

  Ian clutched his bleeding side as he looked down on Jeb’s body. He tried to imagine his last moments. Did he wake up confused. Possibly panicking at what was going on before the train was torn asunder.

  Did he realise he was going to die at all?

  I’m sorry… if only I-

  What does it matter? Came the voice, louder and more gruttal. He was food. A host. Nothing more.

  Get… get out of my damn head!

  Teeth bared; Ian’s fist screwed up as he swung it against the carriage side. Knuckles collapsed, sending another jolt running through his chest. He rested his head against the warm metal, feeling a nagging urge just to let his legs crumple beneath him. But he held on, kept himself upright…

  Stolen novel; please report.

  “Come on missus, get over there!” came a thick American accent.

  “Ju-Get off me!”

  His heart missed a beat, Liana! She’s alive!?

  He shoved himself forward, past Jeb’s body and through the debris. The Virus bit down on his limbs again, but every pulse just egged Ian onwards.

  He emerged from the wreckage to find some of helicopters resting on the ground, more hovering over the remains of the train. Soldiers, some sporting heavy… hazmat gear of some kind… patrolled the wreckage and the ruined ground. All of them wore black armour and carried grey rifles that were dull in the light. The massive orb was now gone, but an ugly cloud of dust rose in its place. A black blight in the sky twisted into the familiar shape of a mushroom.

  But like a leaf on the wind, Ian’s mind didn’t properly register this, his thoughts were focused purely on the possibility of a survivor. Someone he could save, buy them time and a chance to flee before he finally died.

  Or got turned into something that… wasn’t him.

  And then he saw her.

  Liana was shoved forward by one of the soldiers a few hundred metres away, wedging his weapon into her back. Her clothes were torn, her hair ragged and blood peppered her body, but she held herself tall, trying to shake loose of the gun as she marched forward. “Don’t try anything lady…” the guard muttered, poking her forward again.

  She wasn’t alone either. Another soldier shoved Coop forward, who looked even more terrified than before and even more horrific than Liana, with ichor peppering his face, looking between his bloodied hands and the ruins all around him. He was panting hard enough that his heart could probably erupt from his chest.

  Ian stumbled forward. The guards, the helicopters, even the mushroom cloud… They didn’t bother him. Liana and Coop were the only things on his mind. His feet slipped again, and he stabilised himself with a wave of his arms. But teeth sank into his hips… No more second chances…

  It is time… time to join us…

  He forced the foreign thought aside and stumbled onwards towards Liana and her captor. They approached a distant, disturbingly intact carriage. She threw another curse at the soldier as another wandered over, but out of the blue, she spun round, trying to grab and throw the gun aside. But he was faster, and he whipped the rifle across the back of her head. She stumbled forwards… and her eyes locked onto Ian. Words tried to form as her gaze widened. His heart fluttered again, desperation working its way back in. L-Liana!

  The soldier booted her behind the carriage, shortly followed by the still terrified Coop.

  Ian pressed onwards. He tripped over his feet again and began to fall towards the ground. One hand shot blindly off to one side, towards a shard of metal sticking out of the ground… if he only he could hold onto it-

  The shard tipped over.

  His hand grasped nothing but air.

  Ian hit the ground face first, dirt slipping through his lips. He spluttered at the taste of iron that appeared there. He tried to claw at the earth, to crawl forward. His body was spasming now, and even his fingers were bending beyond his control. The Virus clamped its jaws down on him, ripping and tearing at his flesh once more. His body screamed, his muscles boiling under his skin. And yet, Ian kept his eyes on that carriage, calling on whatever little strength and free will he had left to pull himself that last few metres towards her.

  The soldiers stepped back into view, and raised their guns.

  Ian tried to scream.

  They opened fire.

  His muscles screamed with him. Blood rushed up his throat, gurgling out of his mouth in a torrent.

  And with that, it began.

  His skin sharply stretched and tore open over the warping muscles underneath them. Muscles which were sharply yanking at every part of his body. Agonisingly loud cracks ran as the new muscle snapped bones snapped. Others shattered as his limbs and chest began to change shape. Then came the burning, as if he had been set ablaze as the bones re-fused together, all the while that foreign mind chanting down his ear in victorious cheer.

  Ian could feel his mind slipping away…

  No…

  He managed to clamp his fingers shut.

  No!

  No!

  No!

  He screamed harder, managing to get back to his knees, but his skull began to crack, grow and refuse…

  And as his jaws were pried apart, twisted… and snapped forward with an impossible degree of force… all Ian could do was howl at the sky.

  He slowly tried to open his eyes.

  The pain was gone, but his limbs felt terribly weak.

  Blinking, he moaned.

  Liana…

  Ian froze.

  I… I’m still here… he thought in complete disbelief.

  Groggy, Ian had just enough strength to push himself up at least slightly off his side. As his vision began to clear, a squad in that heavy equipment materialised around him; their rifles levelled directly towards him.

  And standing at the centre of them all, dressed in some military and protective gear of his own, was Travis.

  But there was no look of pride or victory written across his face. His rifle hung limply at his side and he stared woodenly at him with a look of pure disbelief.

  “It worked…” he finally uttered; voice soft.

  He glanced over his shoulder, “You actually did it.”

  “Despite your best efforts to retrieve him.”

  Hagen emerged, stepping up alongside the Nyúlfur. His lab coat now replaced with a waterproof jacket, and a clicking device was resting against his chest.

  “If you gave my people more time…” he growled.

  “We had to act.” Hagen countered, “But that does not matter now… as you have pointed out…”

  A small, prideful smile formed. “We have indeed succeeded.”

  Succeeded? What?

  The scientist turned towards the Nyúlfur, “This entire operation has been a resounding success, the Terra-Bomb has surpassed all expectations and more importantly, we can proceed to the next phase of the Initiative thanks to this particular achievement.” He tilted his head towards Ian.

  Cords stretched and stung in protest as Ian lifted himself upwards, mouth moving. “Where… are they…” he hissed faintly, “Where is she…”

  “Dead.” Travis stated, with no hint of mockery in his voice as he looked down at him with narrowed eyes.

  Ian’s body shuddered, a deep animalistic growl rumbling from him. “You’re… dead… Nyúlfur scum!”

  “A bit rich coming from you.”

  W-What? Coming from… me?

  “What… what the hell you have done to me!?” Ian demanded, his voice feeling… off somehow, he couldn’t describe it.

  “Doctor.” Said one of the soldiers, clearly female as she raised a counter not do different from Hagen’s, “Radiation levels are climbing, we don’t have much time.”

  Travis glanced over at the doctor, “You going to tell him, or shall I?”

  T… Tell me about what!?

  Without much in the way of reaction, Hagen took a few steps forward and lowered himself down to Ian’s level, his cold blue eyes fixed onto him. “The Retrovirus that is in your system is a modified strain… Mr Barber.”

  Ian could only snarl back, the animalistic noise coming forth again. It felt… so wrong!

  “As you are already aware.” Hagen continued, unbothered, “It began the conversion process far sooner than in normal cases. But there was a specific modification there that I am sure you are more… curious… about.”

  His face set in stone; Hagen pulled a small metal object from his jacket. “It is best.” He continued, “For you to see for yourself.”

  He turned the device, clearly some kind of smartphone, round to face him.

  An image appeared on the screen. It was a creature covered in golden brown fur, with a messy mat of darker hair atop its head. Two fluffy ears poked through the hair and blue eyes stared through the screen at him.

  It was a Nyúlfur, covered in clothing that was almost entirely torn to shreds.

  Apart from an intact tartan jacket.

  “No…”

  The Nyúlfur’s mouth moved, it's head copying his own as it shook from side to side. The blue eyes widened.

  He wasn’t looking at just any other Nyúlfur.

  He wasn’t looking at a Feral.

  He was…

  “You are a Nyúlfur now Mr Barber.” Hagen declared.

  His heart began to pound again. Ian shook his wolven head even harder, feeling his ragged breaths flowing in and out and seeing said breaths through the phone screen.

  This… this… this is all wrong!!! This has to be a nightmare, something, anything! Not like this!

  “No… this… this isn’t real!” he barked, voice quivering.

  Now a smile formed on Travis’ lips, the Nyúlfur crossing his arms as he looked down at him. “It’s real alright.” The smile grew ever larger, and his teeth glinted evilly. “Welcome to the master race… brother…”

  “No!” Ian barked, He couldn’t be, it was impossible! He should be dead! He should be trying to rip their throats out! This was some twisted dream! He just had wake up… anytime… no, this can’t have been real at all!

  “This may seem shocking.” Hagen stressed, moving the phone closer, “But the sooner you…”

  “No!”

  One clawed hand shot out, tearing the phone from Hagen’s grip. Something shattered, but Ian didn’t care. Blackness rolled in from the edges of his vision and his muscles were fading away, withering, weakening. “No…” he managed to whisper, his weak voice barely registering to his ears. “I… I don’t…”

  Ian’s eyes slithered shut, and the new Nyúlfur slumped over.