Slims

Chapter One (I): Are You Safe?

        The city is covered in a thick cloud of miasma, blocking out the sun, turning it into nothing but a silvery white streak of light- a chasm in a flock of grey clouds. The ground is no better, choked with residue weeds and tufts of brown grass that travel in winding paths until snaking up around towering brick buildings - creeping inside the windows, and prying at the foundation.

A lone soldier hides crouched behind an old building; It's crumbling and deserted like the rest of the city. Kori shifts uncomfortably, there's not much time until dawn and yet she's still trapped in the ruins of  what used to be the capital of the strongest nation on Earth: Deos.

        After the fall of Monarchy in the Fifth Lactavian Macrocosm, the Vivacitas Act was deemed void; allowing the unsupervised duplication of nucleic acid in all political territory underneath the Auxilium commonwealth.     

        Kori peered out from the shadows, no incoming danger yet. Her hover-pod was parked on the other side of town, and with her magnetic transport disabled, in a city built from gravel and stone, she was defenseless against pure-bloods in the blistering sunlight that was soon to come.

If she hoofed it, it'd take almost half-a-day to reach headquarters and there wasn't much time left before daylight. Then again, if she stayed she'd be dead within the hour; all the oxygen sucked out of her by copper-tooth fangs.

It wasn't until the reproductive organisms showed signs of individual character that The Ministry of Safety began monitoring for carbon copies. But even the Supreme Sanatorium of Does could not have predicted the events that unraveled after the GBW crisis during the oxteenth century.

        She sighed, tasting the salty tang of sweat trickling into her mouth and wiped her upper lip with the sleeve of her suit. "...Frigg'n Traz..."

The ruins were definitely not her scene, she was more of a capital girl; metal and air-conditioning meant home. With liquid oil dripping down her chin and the sun teasing her vision she should have been focused more on figuring out how to stay alive rather than cursing Traz for being such a wuss.

        He'd begged her for weeks on end to take his shift, and so she'd finally given in, convinced she could probably suffer one more night in Deos. Not a chance.

No more than an hour after she'd set up base, there was already a swarm of infecteds bumbling around nearby, they'd spotted her almost immediately and tracked her further into the city. Now she was stranded with narrow chances of survival and shattered pride. 

 Figures experienced exorbitant exposure to mutated carbon dioxide atoms in the atmosphere, but instead of suffocating they reconstructed the smog into bodily fuel; an undefinable reception. However, after consumption, clones produced larger amounts of CO2 than ingested. 

        She should've known better, after only two years on the force, getting cocky was naive. With the infecteds growing more adapt to the environment, Gallina territory would soon be consumed with virus. She took a deep breath and stood straight, only a few more minutes left until a radiation warning, but at least she'd die trying.

Before she could lurch into No Mans Land  her communicator sputtered alive, a soft grainy voice flooding through.

        "Ryder, your shift ended four hours ago, what were you doing?"

"...I was ambushed..." she admitted

Side effects included dementia, internal bleeding, and irregular cell alteration. Early symptoms include dark leathery patches forming on the skin...    

        The voice chuckled in response, "There's a safe house a few miles North, careful- a small group behind you is advancing so you'll have to make a run for it, safe?

"Never"

        The word lingers on her lips as she dashes into a clearing, not turning to look back, because doing that definitely wouldn't be safe.