Matt could taste the poison in the air. It leaked through the hole in his visor and the torn shoulder where his right arm used to be. Two breaths in, his throat burned. He only had one thing on his mind: SURVIVE! To do so he had to reach the escape shuttle he got a glance of across the fungus grove while crash landing and fly off before the thing catches up to him. However, he wouldn't reach anything if he couldn't seal his suit first. He pressed his palm over the visor gap. Air still hissed past his fingers. The shoulder wound was worse. Something had torn his arm clean off just moments ago, and the suit fabric there hung in ragged, wet strips. He needed a patch, and he needed it now or he would pass out. He stumbled back toward the crashed pod. Its scarred shell sat half-buried in dark earth, red lights blinking in the broken panels. He remembered the emergency kit inside. He dropped to his knees, reached through a shattered hatch with his one arm, and rummaged through the debris. His hand found the sealing foam canister along with a strip of hull tape and a red tactical box labeled emergency Kit. His vision got spotty as he looked through the kit for something to bite on and something for the pain. He pressed the canister to his shoulder and squeezed while muffling a cry of pain. Gray foam spread over the wound and hardened. The hiss stopped. He ripped a length of tape with his teeth and wrapped it around the shoulder where the foam met the suit, then smoothed it flat with his thumb to make sure it was completely sealed. His breath got shorter and shorter as he bent over in pain and he wheezed when he inhaled. He had sealed the suit, but his visor was still damaged. The pain was unbearable but not being able to breathe was worse. Matt used the last little bit of strength he had and, falling prone on the dark dirt, stuck his hand inside the kit and dug around for the emergency respirator mask. Just before he fully passed out, his fingers felt the rubber strap of the mask and he quickly grabbed it. With one swift motion he took off his helmet and put on the mask. The burning in his throat began to fade. He then turned a gauge on one of the filters for the respirator and the mask started pumping out the toxic poison air and filtering in good clean air. His lungs began to fill. He breathed. The suit held. He'd done it with one arm and no time. For a moment he almost laughed. He took a second to recover. The ground started to shake and he heard a low pitched rumbling sound. Matt’s heart sank. It was the same sound he heard before he lost his arm. Matt sat up quickly and used the crashed pod however he could to help get on his feet and turned. Across the withered grove, between the dead trees and pale fungus, something moved. It was long and black, low to the ground. Dozens of legs carried its body over the barren earth. At its front a gaping mouth full of white teeth, the jaws of a great white shark set on a crawling, centipede spine. Its black eyes, almost indistinguishable from its skin, caught the pod's red lights. Its snout still followed the scent of blood. As soon as Matt caught a glimpse of the nightmarish creature he knew. It had taken his arm. The eldritch horror lifted its head and tasted the air. The tape. The foam. The patch had sealed his suit, but not before his blood leaked its scent into the open air. The creature had found him by the scent of it. Matt moved quickly. The shuttle sat far across the grove, past the trees, past the fungus. He had sealed his suit and saved his life. However, now the terror that ripped off his arm stood between him and the only way off this world. But Matt was determined. The demonic creature started dashing toward him. Matt ran.