The man on the radio transceiver had been lying to you as he directed you towards his alleged safehouse, using the remnants of local CCTV feeds to predict where the creatures were prowling. Unfortunately you only realised this as he told you to take the next left in the labyrinthine streets of former London, wherein you came face-to-face (or rather, face to gaping maw) with a Springeye.
Luckily for you it had a fresh kill clutched in its quivering limbs, unluckily it was scoffing down what appeared to be a human, its eyes unblinkingly fixed on you. It was too late to run, it already had your scent memorised and was clearly planning to take you down once it had finished off the poor bastard it was currently making its way through.
That's the thing about Springeyes, nothing stays in them long enough to satiate their hunger. As soon as they've eaten, they go into a series of excruciating convulsions and projectile vomit who or whatever they just ingested. It would be your only chance to escape.
For once, you were thankful for the chemical bombs that had caused such severe nerve damage in those monsters. It saved hundreds of lives a day and with any luck you would be among the saved. Otherwise (best case scenario) whatever was left of your mangled body would be alive enough to develop the mutation and you'd live on... sort of.
The time was coming closer.
The Springeye was down to a pair of bruised and broken feet.
You began raise your arm, preparing to toss the transceiver at it and buy yourself just a few more seconds.
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