Hell's Slapstick Drone Carriers
The footage from the hellish slapstick drone carriers came in two clips. The central control room screen split down the middle, playing each one.
Two vampire anemones appeared. The one on the left screen was a bit bigger than a van. It was an intimidating size, but nothing compared to the beast on the right.
"Do they grow at wildly different rates depending on how much they eat?"
Probably. The massive specimen we encountered might have reached that size thanks to those blood tanks.
I zoomed in on the right screen to full view. It was the one we'd faced underground at Blood Pack Technology.
"I figured it'd eventually crawl out of the building, but I didn't expect this."
The thing was dead. Stretched out long across the road at the city's edge like a whale washed ashore and perished. The area around it crawled with an insane number of infected.
"Did we inflict a fatal wound? Doesn't seem like it."
We'd unloaded massive firepower on it, and it'd writhed in agony like mad. But whether that would've killed it? Hard to say.
Who knows. A deer shot through the chest by a hunter might run off full of life. It could last a few more days. But it dies eventually.
"But that's a monster. It looks like an anemone—doesn't it have super regeneration or something?"
I don't know either. You're just assuming.
Artemis chided me.
"Amplify the audio a bit."
Sure.
The drone closed in toward the ground, cranking the audio sensors to max. A cacophony erupted.
Chomp chomp chomp. Crunch crunch.
Down below, the meat feast was in full swing.
Splat!
A Lugnut ripped off one tentacle and mashed its mouth against the stump.
"Kinda looks tasty up close?"
What are you saying? Don't say creepy shit like that.
Artemis recoiled in horror. But isolated like that, the tentacle did kinda look like raw octopus sashimi.
Then, in that instant, foul lime-green fluid burst across the Lugnut's face with a crack. Just like when Bear Grylls crunched a fat larva and its juices exploded.
"Ah..."
My appetite vanished in a flash.
Still looks tasty to you?
Artemis zoomed in on that screen, and I quietly admitted my nonsense.
The slug-like body had its side gnawed away by about 30%, spilling out guts the size of an anaconda. Countless Walkers swarmed them like ants on a worm, slipping and tumbling endlessly over the slick, squishy innards as they tore into it.
Crash!
"Kieeeek!"
Thud!
"Kweeeek!"
It was slapstick comedy straight out of hell, performed by demons.
What about the other one?
The feast screen vanished, switching to the left footage full-screen. A vampire anemone sluggishly crawling along a road far from the city, leaving a trail of that grayish slime that'd made me slip earlier.
"Need more observation?"
No. Won't gain anything from more.
We'd sent the drone carriers to scout and hunt down the massive vampire anemone from Blood Pack Technology. Couldn't just leave a monster that'd burrowed through concrete into the underground alone.
The Shelter was designed to withstand even nuclear strikes unless hit dead-on. The distance made it an unlikely threat. But "what if" always lingered. Plus, we knew nothing of its breeding habits.
We wanted to test if our weapons worked and finish off the wounded beast.
"Torch it."
The original target was already meat chunks, so might as well take out this smaller one we'd found.
At my command, the waiting drones switched to extermination mode. The filming drone carrier held six onboard craft. Docking bays released, launching six scout drones.
These special-mission drones had swapped their underbelly 5.56mm miniguns for something else.
Click. Faint unlocking sounds echoed six times.
The carrier's camera showed the vampire anemone below from above. Six small napalm bombs dropped onto it.
Thud!
Shockingly, it lashed tentacles at the last second, snagging two bombs. Insane reflexes.
BOOM!
The remaining four hit clean and detonated. The two it'd caught had delayed fuses anyway—they'd have blown regardless.
Fierce flames engulfed the vampire anemone. More like malicious flames. Sticky mixed solvent chewed into its flesh, carrying hellfire.
The blazing lump thrashed wildly. Disgustingly mollusk-faithful writhing. It ground against the ground instinctively, to no avail—just shredding flesh on sharp asphalt.
Its twenty burning tentacles danced madly before stopping one by one—a spectacular sight.
"Insane vitality."
Its outer shell peeled off, exposing pink innards. Rubbing its charred body on asphalt shed skin like shrimp shells. But sadly for it, the sticky napalm clung fast.
Now the flames licked into its exposed flesh, burning from inside. Vocal cords cooked—it couldn't even scream.
Charred, stuck flesh trailed along the road like candle wax, burning steadily.
Done watching?
Too grotesque? Artemis tried to cut the feed.
"It's watchable. Keep going till it stops moving."
I'd once seen live loaches thrown on a hot griddle at a fish market. Felt sorry for those, but this? Pure satisfaction.
"Anyway, even the small ones are too dangerous up close. Catching bombs dropping from the sky out of nowhere? No warning."
The one underground at Blood Pack Technology wasn't that agile. Bigger meant more power and toughness, but slower.
If we'd fought assuming the same speed as these smaller ones, we'd have been in trouble.
Updated the raider robots.
"Thought about skipping it, but good call attacking."
Fighting infected meant intel was life. Another page added to the infected encyclopedia today.
'Vampire anemones show massive growth variance based on food supply.'
'Small specimens have incredibly fast reflexes.'
Now a motionless black char lump. Yet the napalm flames raged on.
Field mice drawn by barbecue scent gathered. A returning drone spotted a pack of coyotes sniffing kilometers away. Bald eagles would swoop in soon.
No infected beasts yet, but they wouldn't miss this feast either.
I ordered the drones home and ended the op.
With the blood transfusion underway, options were limited. Adverse reactions tanked my condition, and tubes everywhere restricted movement.
But holing up in my room wasn't smart either.
Move whenever you can. Get your muscles and organs stimulated and active. That's how the advanced blood reacts at max efficiency.
"If muscle and organ stimulation matters that much, can't I just get a massage?"
I pictured Chloro kneading every inch of me with devotion. She'd smile happily, serving all day.
You have to move yourself for it to work. Blood needs to interact throughout your body, triggering adverse reactions repeatedly.
Artemis dropped some scary truth.
Keep walking even if it's tough. Transfusion ends soon—once tubes are out, handling adverse blood reactions gets harder. Might as well rip the band-aid off quick.
So I'd been pacing all day. Now down in the Lower Park, strolling the artificial lake shore.
Listening to Kids' radio broadcast, that is. A girl alone in an empty station of the ruined world, hosting radio. Pretty atmospheric, right?
The voice from my PDA was as cheerful as ever.
The radio voice stayed steady, but I bet Kids was giggling inside.
I strolled the lakeshore, listening to Kids.
I waved lightly. Women walking the path opposite greeted me.
Groups chattered by the lake farther off; some dipped feet. I circled them, radio on.
Bits of old-world daily life returned around me. Smaller scale, sure.
Kids signed off; music played.
Kids wasn't the only broadcaster.
Rose's crisp voice contrasted Kids' liveliness, echoing everywhere. Women left the lakeshore for quarters.
Shelter had curfew for security. To mimic outside day/night for healthy rhythms, lights simulated it. Night meant dimming—security vulnerability. Even top night cams weren't as good as lit areas.
Intruders during curfew? Motion without scheduled work = intruder. Easier to spot and chase.
"Pretty."
A petite woman by the lake said. Beside her sat a larger, short-cropped woman. They gazed at the orange-glowing lake.
Curfew transition lasted 30 minutes with twilight lighting—Kids' idea, recent hit. We'd decide permanence after observation.
Rose's second call. Holdouts finally headed to quarters.
"Oh?"
Some saluted me—probably security trainees.
The lakeshore emptied fast. Third broadcast meant sprinting.
The hand-holding pair lingered, chatting softly. The petite one started sobbing; the larger comforted, patting her back. Minutes later, they left for quarters.
Lost family? Other woes? I didn't know. But time heals. If they wanted, they'd return tomorrow, the next day.
Manager. Return to quarters now. I will escort you.
"Appreciate the thought. Staying a bit longer."
I sat near the lakeshore.
Extend twilight longer?
"Yeah. Thanks."
The final curfew alert echoed. On the empty lakeshore, I was the only listener.