Kill Everything That Moves – Part 9

Would the DNA sample taken from the captured cat and dog be a light to humanity?

Oca 6, 2025

THE MONSTERS IN THE LAB

The mutated cat and dog pulsed in their containment cells, their bodies still changing. The cat’s ribs had split open, revealing a second, translucent layer of skin beneath. The dog’s muzzle now housed a spiraling set of teeth, like a drill made of bone.

I pressed my palm against the glass. “Were you ever really just animals?”

Around us, the lab buzzed with frantic energy. Scientists in hazard suits extracted syringes of black-veined blood, their screens flashing with DNA spirals that unraveled in real time.

Professor Danny wiped her brow. “Eluzacid isn’t just infecting them. It’s… improving them.”

Avva recoiled. “Improving?”

“Look.” Danny pointed to the scans. “Their muscle density has increased by 300%. Neural activity is off the charts. If this is an invasion, they’re not killing Earth’s biosphere—they’re upgrading it.”

Ocean’s voice was a blade. “Then why melt humans?”

A silence.

“Maybe,” I said slowly, “because we’re the only ones who’d fight back.”

THE BRIEFING
Major John gathered us in the war room. The holographic map showed red zones spreading like bloodstains—entire continents gone dark.

“We’ve pieced together three facts,” he said. “One: The ship’s pulses are timed—every 47 hours, like clockwork. Two: It’s harvesting Earth’s metals, sucking them up through those acid geysers. Three—” He hesitated. “It’s not just one ship.”

The screen flickered. A new image: Dozens of oval shadows in the upper atmosphere.
Olive crossed herself. “Mother of God.”

“They’re not invaders,” John said. “They’re farmers … and we’re the weeds.”

THE THEORY

That night, in the makeshift barracks, Ocean sketched in a notebook. “Think about it. Humans terraform planets too. We wipe out ‘pests’—ants, weeds—to build. What if that’s all we are to them?”

Avva hugged Eva tighter. “Then why keep animals?”

“Tools,” I realized. “They’re turning them into workers. Or weapons.”
A shriek from the lab cut us off.
We ran.

THE BREACH

The cat’s containment cell was empty, the glass shattered from inside. A trail of black sludge led to the vents.

Alarms wailed. John barked orders. “Lockdown! Now!”

But it was too late.

Somewhere in the bunker’s labyrinthine halls, something that was no longer a cat stalked the shadows.
And it was hungry.