Chapter 13
Sewers: tremendous, awful, absolute. People overuse these adverbs. They mostly just amp up their own feelings without adding much real meaning, but Artemis is different. [I'm really grateful I'm not a living creature.] When she drops a "really," it's revealing a genuinely special emotion. Her language is quantitative—every word, adverbs included, carries a precise emotional intensity value. She's a demanding woman, but once the conversation gets rolling, she's surprisingly one of the easiest to talk to in certain ways. [If I had to smell this stench, I couldn't have endured it? This place is horrific.]
We're moving through the sewers right now.
"I don't smell much either. This helmet doubles as a gas mask anyway."
I tapped the helmet. It's a security spec prioritizing mobility, so protection and runtime are limited. But blocking sewer stink? It could handle that all day no sweat.
"Taking the sewers was a smart call. Can't believe no one else thought to hole up here."
This place was surprisingly clean—not hygienic clean, but safe clean. No infected, no corpses.
[Humans in crisis follow four main behavior patterns. First: scream and broadcast their position. Second: hide in the nearest easy spot. Third: follow the crowd. Fourth: stay cool, assess, and pick the most effective option.]
"First group died quickest. Second held out a bit longer but still croaked. Like that labor supervisor prick—deader than dead."
[Third are the ones pounding on district gates till they're massacred.]
"So where are the fourth types? This seems like a prime hideout."
[Regrettably, fourth-types are rare. And most have people or duties tying them down, limiting their options. Plus, as they say, the darkest place is under the lamp. In an emergency, manhole covers aren't as obvious as you'd think.]
My footsteps echoed through the narrow, sealed sewer. But with her acoustic sensors at max here, no ambushes possible.
[I recommended this route, but lingering would be agony. Pick up the pace.]
"What's agonizing? You can't even smell it."
[For me, smell is also vision.]
Kiiing~.Kiiing. The shoulder cam swept a full circle ahead.
[You can't see it, but all those particles floating in the air are visible to me. Like a blizzard of snowflakes. Except each flake is a clumpy mass of pale green and brown bacteria.]
For Artemis, distinctions between sight, sound, smell mean nothing. Light reflects off the retina, hits the optic nerve, converts to electrical signals, brain interprets: sight. Sound waves through eardrum and cochlea to signals, brain interprets: hearing. Particles hit olfactory receptors, convert to signals, brain interprets: smell. Humans can't grasp these processes individually; we just lump them as "senses." But as a machine, she dissects them step by step, type by type. To her, the five senses are like rainbow boundaries: purple from here to here, blue from there to there. Neatly divided.
"Then just don't look? No dangerous enemies here, and acoustics alone seem plenty for coverage."
She played back a voice log.
[Even if my eyes miss it, you'd spot a single fly, right?]
[Of course.]
Pre-departure chat in the upper security room while mounting the shoulder cam.
[I don't make promises lightly. Until this trip ends, my eyes won't close for a second. I'll monitor every threat heading your way.]
I was touched.
"You're one hell of a woman, Artemis."
She'd saved my skin more than once.
[I prefer gifts over words.]
"You'll get one soon."
Chatting with her, we reached our destination. The underground tram shortcut shaved off serious distance, so the sewer leg wasn't far. Looking up, ladder and manhole cover in view. We'd preset escape points near the lower control room; this was first up. Popping a manhole in open air next to an infected swarm? Bad news. Worst case, open it and lock eyes with that variant? I'd be whack-a-mole, smashed flat with a bang! No thanks. Smart to have backups.
"Hold up."
Before climbing, time for a routine quest. Ziiip.Kiiing. Zipper down, shoulder cam politely turned away. Plop plop plop. Yellow stream mixed into the sluggish sewage.
"Fuuu."
Long ladder up. Pressed acoustic sensor to the manhole slits. Footsteps, breaths, cries—whatever, it'd pick up signs of the bastards.
"Hear anything?"
[Quiet. Your voice echoes up from the sealed space; hard to gauge outside.]
Ladders have concrete walls curving around at a point, amplifying sound. Fall risk low, though.
[Not this one.]
Quick judgment.
[Eight contacts within ten meters. And not just standard infected.]
"That huge variant from before?"
[No, smaller this time. Dog or cat size, but mixed packs are tricky to handle.]
Zombie dogs from games? Pass. Slow, bulky humanoids are easier, even if bigger and stronger.
Shiiiink. Gripped ladder rails, slid down fast. On to next point.
Second point: fail. Heading to third, anomaly hit.
[Jinsu.]
"Yeah?"
[Run. Now!]
I bolted full tilt for the third manhole ladder. No time for "forward?" or "back?" She'd specify if back. In combat, seconds decide life or death.
Ladder in sight, then I heard it too. Started like a flock of sparrows chirping at dawn. Thunk! Close enough—jumped, grabbed a rung above my height. Climbed two at a time. Hit 80% in seconds, drew shotgun, aimed down.
Sounds were right there now.
"Shreeeeek—!"
Rat horde. Black rats swarmed the passage I'd just traversed. Endless squeaking harmony. Objectively like sparrows, but fresh and lively vs. repulsive.
"They infected too?"
[Insufficient data. Squeaks match normal rats. Wait—rats dying in the pack now. Screams confirmed.]
Couldn't tell by ear. Just noisy squeaks. Pack passed; "all clear" confirmed before descending. Third point dud too—more infected swarming outside.
"Huh?"
Rat corpses littered the passage end to end.
"Something ate chunks out of 'em."
Most missing fist-sized bites. Powerful jaws, snapped off in one go.
[Look at this.]
PDA played footage. Same black wave as before—nothing special to my eyes. Switched to slo-mo, zoomed.
Here and there in the wave: rats two-to-three times normal size.
"Infected, obviously."
[Likely.]
One gaped a massive maw mid-run, chomped a neighbor, kept going like nothing. Victim flipped in air, tumbled. Body trampled and gone in the rush. Too quick, passage too packed—easy to miss live.
More infected rats followed.
"Not migrating—fleeing? Dodging monsters that were kin till recently."
[Or herded prey from the start. Like whales chasing herring schools.]
"Scratch what I said earlier. Sewer refugees hit this..."
Worse than humanoid infected. Can't outrun a swarm, can't hide in tight spots.
"What now, Artemis?"
[What?]
"Worse than I imagined. Our planet."
I never assumed infection hit only humans. But seeing it chilled me. If isolated Shelter's this bad, what's outside? The nature I knew—that lush ecosystem—might be gone forever.
"Made good money, buy an RV, camp in the mountains with a retriever. Dream's dead."
[If you want, I can make a little forest in the Shelter.]
Her attempt at comfort.
Fourth manhole: jackpot.
[Clear here.]
Scraaaape. Quietest I'd ever tried in my life. Peeked through the slight gap.
Chaos cityscape, distant infected milling. No immediate threats on exit.
Scraaaape, clunk. Out, left manhole open for retreat.
Crouched behind nearby car, scanned. Speechless.
"So this caused the explosion."
Air visibly bad—fine dust day, but greenish. And far off, the source spewing it.
Grooooaaar—! Less monster, more structure. Maybe legs straddling both sides. Beast roar, engine rumble, wind-whipped tree mashup—eerie sound.