Petre's throat was aflame. He screamed and shouted and writhed amidst the cold black.

It crawled inside his head with a thousand centipede legs, and no matter how deep he plunged and gouged, the foul worm would slither out from his grasp.

[ fả̷̘h̵̋ͅte̷̟̐ř̵̠ ̷͖̉w̷̘̒ká̴̻e̷̞̒ u̸̱̔p̴̠̀ ̴̜͌f̷̱͋a̵̞̚h̷̭͊t̸̹̒e̷̢̋r̸̖͌ ]

Petre felt the cold dread of death creep and crawl over his bloodless arms. The slime dripped with a wretched ichor that scoured his skin. Black as sin, it clattered, and with the floating impression of a haunted human smile.

He tried to escape. He was trapped in a sunless box with horrors that befuddled and deceived. A cloud had hung over his thoughts like a thunderstorm, but the sky had cleared to reveal a bloated evil.

"L̴̘̒eh̵̟̎ť̸̰ ̵̝͐g̵̤̀o̸̘̊h̷̖̍ ̵̛͉o̸͎͂f̷̖͊ ̴̝̃m̵͚̈h̴̫͒ḛ̷̾!̴" cried the worm in its twisted corrupted speech.

Petre found the invader. It chewed the inside of his head and made a hole for its eggs, but Petre had finally caught it between his gnarled fingers, and so he puuuuuulled.

He would know freedom. He would know peace. He would be whole.

But the slime. Petre had forgotten about the two wretched balls of hate. They clawed up his chest and slid their tendrils down his throat. They invaded his mind with their black.

Petre felt a gush of wet fill his belly and colour his dreams. The storm clouds gathered over his thoughts, and he collapsed onto the cold concrete of the utility room.

"Come on, cuz!" Manya said, beside herself with frustration. "That could have hurt."

His chest still thumped madly. It was as if his heart wanted to leap out of his chest.

But as Blurm and Blurt filled his mouth with their nutrients, some small calm returned to Petre's thoughts. He could not remember what had frightened him, but it was not his first nightmare since the blast.

"Bhlurmh. Bhlurht," Petre said, his mouth full and awkward. He did not like to think about what his children had in his mouth (He had seen enough foreign pornography to know tentacles could be erotic).

"paPa wAke up?" Blurt asked as he slid down from Petre's face and landed on his lap.

"Papa is awake," Petre said. He pulled Blurm away from his head and held her close to his chest. He delighted in their warmth.

"I've already told you the problem," Manya said. She moved restlessly from within his right eye. "We need more nutrients. We share a body now, and my hunger is yours."

Petre was too tired. He reached out to Blurb, not with his arms, but with the mysterious thread that bound them. He felt her delight at his closeness, but it was so weak.

"I know," he said, and he playfully buried his face in Blurt's black goo. "We'll find what food we need."

They left Borhov in the morning. The children remained motionless atop Blurb's bloated lower half. Manya had explained how it worked once, but Blurt and Blurm were able to compel their mother to slither forward with her many tendrils.

There was no light to Blurb's half-opened eyes, however.

They followed the cluttered road out of Borhov. They passed the abandoned military checkpoint. A signpost promised another town, Kharyov, forty kilometers away.

"Before all of... this," Petre began as the five of them (He included Manya in the counting even though he did the walking for her) trekked along the quiet highway, "Papa had a hard time walking even five kilometers."

"And when would Petre the Shut-in walk that far?" Manya asked with her old mischief.

"The buses broke down sometimes..." Petre said, but her playful question made his head hurt. He could scarcely remember what life had been like before Blurb.

"Papa, pApa!" Blurt called from Blurb's malformed chest. "How faR is five ki... killiNg meateRs?"

Petre choked down a laugh, and said, "Five thousand meters."

"Mmm, mmm," Blurt intoned, his pleasure evident. "BlurT smaRter noW."

[ pApa, paApa? hOw faR fiVe thou... thousAnds meAt eateRs? ]

"Five killing meateRs!" Blurt declared with pomp. "Papa already say."

"I hate those wretched spawn," Manya said. "I know I've said it already, but we could leave them behind."

The comment hung between them for a few breathes as Petre tried to collect his thoughts.

"Blurb is family. And so are... my children," he said, not too harshly. "And, w-whatever you are, you're still family, too."

"You'll make me blush, cuz," Manya said, and he could feel her eye (Which was his eye) roll with the sarcasm.

The five of them continued their trek with similar lighthearted talk. There was no army or polici to shoot at them. There were no civilians to run in fear. They were completely alone.

Until they arrived at the outskirts of Kharyov.

"Doesn't look like the town has been evacuated," Petre said as he looked down at the sprawl of buildings and cars. From the highway they could make out the rise of smoke and a few distant dots moving to-and-fro on the streets.

"They'll certainly run for the hills once they see the bloated corpse rolling after us," Manya said with a snicker.

"Cuz!" Petre said, sharply. He did not understand the hate between them, but Blurb was his treasure.

Manya offered no remorse, and her words were true. Petre looked human enough. His skin was covered in grey blotches, but he could blame that on the blast if someone asked. The problem was Blurb and the children. They looked monstrous.

"I'd rather not have another shootout," Manya said. "We have to leave the others behind."

[ pa... paPa leAve bLuUrm? ]

Petre heard the sad wet plops and his heart bled.

"Never!" he said, and he ran over to Blurb and scooped Blurm up into the air.

His daughter cooed with delight as he spun her around, though she soon slide through his fingers and landed on his head. From the corner of his eye, Petre saw Blurb's many tentacles, and he cringed.

"But I... I need... Papa wants to make sure that it is safe."

Petre covered Manya's hole with the ragged strip of a shirt. As he drew closer, he realized there did not seem to be many people in Kharyov. Perhaps the town had been evacuated and only a few had remained behind.

He was not sure if that was for the better. They needed calories, plain and simple. It could be meat, vegetables, chocolate. Blurb and the others needed calories to recover, and more humans meant more food.

"Y-you know, I sort of forgot about my social anxiety after being surrounded by monsters," Petre said as he looked over the distant figures, though he kicked himself for the m-word.

"I'm sure you'll razzle them with your bright personality, cuz," Manya said, and Petre smiled. She had always known how to cheer him up, now and in their youth.

But she had been a creature all that time.

His smile faded and his hands would not remain dry. Petre might have waited in the dense brush on the outskirts of the town had he not worried for Blurb and the children.

He left the cover of tree and marched towards the nearest stretch of road with jerky movements and sweaty palms. He could see three human dots milling about. They looked violent from afar, but everyone looked violent to a coward.

"They saw me," Petre said in a whine as the dots shifted and pointed. "Oh, God. They saw me."

"Just shut up," Manya said. The words did not encourage him.

"They're going to shoot me," Petre said, and all of his old anxieties rushed back. Because he was not full of bravado and fatherly masculinity. "They'll think I'm some kind of irradiated mutant and shoot me."

"HEY THERE!"

Petre jumped as one of the distant men shouted a hello (He sounded violent and ill-natured).

"He did not!" Manya hissed.

The distant men continued to shout to one another, and soon more appeared on the cusp of the town. Some waved to Petre as they rushed towards him on the road.

"H-HELLO!" Petre called back with a weak wave.

Two bearded men with good-natured smiles met him on the cusp of Kharyov. Their heavy chests heaved with tired after they stopped in-front of him.

"You look awful, friend!" the larger of the two said. "Was it the bomb or the Khavasks?"

Petre did not understand the question. What did their eastern neighbor have to do with anything?

"Doesn't matter," the larger man said with a huff. He turned back towards the town, and shouted, "IT'S HIM!"

Petre heard the words and his body stiffened with surprise. Before he could react, however, something thumped into his shoulder and the world spun.

He was shot three more times, each thunderous blow announced with a distant crack.

"I can't believe we found him," one of the men said over Petre as the world filled with a violet red haze. "Gora, get those KSC goons on the radio. They are in for a surprise!"