Donnie, Half Past Apocalypse

They said that cockroaches would be the ones to survive long after humanity blew itself to bits.  They were wrong.  The cockroaches never stood a chance against him.  Donnie was a monster.  He hadn’t always been one; a freak of nature, though the natural part of the equation was questionable at best after all of the experimentation and the radiation.  Adaptation is a funny thing, often happening in unexpected ways when life is pushed to the brink; sometimes even the most unlikely candidates can overcome impossible odds.  In this case, the candidate had been him.  The age of humanity ended and yet, he survived.

How had he done it?  What was his secret to survival?  To be honest, Donnie wasn't exactly sure.  He didn't feel any stronger or tougher so far as he could tell.  But, something about him had changed although he wasn't all too sure what. Honestly, he mostly still felt like himself, except for the dulling down of his senses and a shift in his body weight and proportions, after all he had become some kind of monster now.  His senses were jumbled like crossed wires limited to faint and muffled spurts of color and sound.  Within this haze though, he still managed to survive on instinct alone.  He had killer instincts in this new form; reflexes to fight using what he could find no matter the disadvantages.  All he knew was when danger arrived, he somehow always found himself on the other side of it.  There were gaps in his memory, sometimes it felt as though he was not in control.  Often, it almost felt like he was dreaming, only the craziness never ended, so as far as he could tell he wasn't dreaming at all.

Plenty of other monstrosities roamed the wasteland, though none had been friendly or like him.  But, he had plenty of time to search and with it, a little hope remained.  The truth of what he had become might still be out there.  Unfortunately, the truth was something Donnie would likely not believe even if he could see for himself.