Decisive Battle
That thing was a nest. A massive, living, writhing nest.
In Warren Fay's SF novel Fragment, there are plants with hearts and flowing blood. They look like plants, but they lay eggs, hunt prey, and even raise seabirds just to eat them later. Predators with roots and branches. It was an intriguing concept on the page, but now that it was right in front of me, any fascination evaporated. Horror is only fun when it's confined to paper or a screen.
Whoooong-!
Its form resembled a grotesque mix of sea anemone and coral.
"Two hypotheses just got proven at once."
The core of that colossal nest was the hydroponics facility. Countless branches sprouted from it, rising toward the sky like coral. At their tips, writhing tentacles as thick as tree trunks extended like devil's clubs, twitching in revulsion. I might've stomached it up to that point, but the real problem? Those tentacles had maws.
From those maws, they spewed gas that looked toxic on sight, spraying it everywhere.
Air pollutant levels rising. Concentrations spiking hardest in the spraying zones.
Artemis cross-referenced the map and atmospheric data on my PDA. No doubt about it—that nest was ground zero. Bar graphs spiked and plunged wildly in sync with the sprays.
Whoooong-!
Once I pieced it together, that howl didn't sound like a mere monster screech anymore. More like factory machinery humming to life. I'd heard something similar infiltrating a power plant during an op back in my army days.
"Was that explosion at the power facility just those tentacles dousing the place at the right moment?"
The tentacles didn't limit themselves to the air—they jammed their maws into nearby buildings and pumped gas straight in. Just like that one now.
Pssshhhh.
A building that looked perfectly intact suddenly flushed green, gas seeping from cracks around the sealed windows.
"Ah, can't unsee that."
Streetlights and trees nearby were coated in some unknown mucus. Fungi sprouting from it pulsed with contractions, belching out faint wisps of gas. The power facility wasn't far off—one entire wall had been blasted away. That must've been the explosion site.
Actually worked out for the best.
Artemis seemed pleased with the situation.
If something was lurking in the power facility, it'd be trouble. Can't fight recklessly there. But the nest's hunkered down in the hydroponics facility. Makes solving this much simpler.
A new route pinged onto my PDA. The endpoint of this insane trek: the Lower Area Control Facility's main building. Close enough to see with the naked eye.
"Take that place, and it's game over?"
Exactly. Secure full Shelter control authority, and we wipe the nest—and every last infected—in one go.
Her voice brimmed with confidence. She seemed to think this setup actually favored us more than expected.
Jinsu, you trust me, right?
"Of course."
She's a partner I can rely on. It bruised my ex-officer pride to admit it, but she outplanned me on ops more often than not.
Target: the control building. Get inside, and we're golden.
"Yeah, but..."
I trailed off, eyeing the horde of obstacles between us and the building.
"Kuoooooo-!"
Three massive variants—the kind that nearly killed me back at the Labor Management Office.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
Even from this distance, the ground trembled under their steps. The one I'd fought before moved on pure instinct, but these had purpose. They stuck to assigned zones radiating from the hydroponics facility, never straying far.
Problem was, the control building sat right in their backyard. Heading there meant crossing their line of sight.
"Think they'll hold position if they spot us?"
Predicting odds is pointless.
"Figured as much."
Variants weren't the only issue.
"Kieeeek-!"
Infected swarmed in numbers too vast to count. Packs of dogs swollen to wolf size dotted the chaos. No doubt thoroughly mutated.
I simulated slipping past them to the building. No need to overthink the outcome: death, every scenario. Flattened mid-sprint by a plunging variant from above. Or blocked by the horde, caught mumbling "Wait, what?" before getting swarmed. Or throat-ripped by a lunging dog right as I gloated, "Perfect! Now they're all..."
Bad ends galore.
The vista was pure apocalypse.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
Vibrations tickled my hands gripping the car for cover.
Whoooong-!
Nest gas shrouded the ceiling lights, casting sickly shadows everywhere.
"Kieeeek-!"
Human infected screeched in chorus. One pitch-black and glossy, shell seemingly unbreakable. Another headless, a thick tentacle swaying where its skull should've been—tipped with a moray-eel maw. One oozing bizarre pus nonstop. Quadrupedal crawlers. A female with a long tentacle sprouting from her crotch, belly swollen like a pregnant woman's. God, I didn't want to know what brewed inside. The few still vaguely human-shaped ones hauled pumpkin-vine things—edible for sure not. They ferried them from the hydroponics hub to points all over.
"Never faced anything like these."
On the battlefield, the unknown is deadliest. Breaking through would've needed an army. Whether enough troops survived to field one was debatable.
But I had a trump card. Without it, I never would've surfaced from the manhole into the city to begin with.
I prepped for the final charge.
All tasks complete, she checked in.
Heart set?
"Naturally."
Deep breath. Once we go, ignore everything else. Even if infected close in, I'll handle them. Your only thought: get inside that building.
I nodded and stretched. Crouching to dodge sightlines had left my whole body stiff.
"Huuuuh."
My palm pressed to my chest felt my heart hammering like mad.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Smaller scale, but my pulse thundered fiercer than the distant variants' steps. Terror before the final push. Ironclad resolve to succeed. Burning rage to sweep these bastards away. My modest heart fused it all, surging energy through every vein.
The unbreakable will of man.
Vroooom-!
Grrroooar-!
Monster cries dominating the city streets suddenly drowned under a roar of engines and ignitions. Not one or two—enough to overpower the horde's wails.
Thud-!
The three variants halted dead, heads swiveling our way. My ride was screened from behind, so they wouldn't spot me yet.
"Kieeeek-?"
Infected turned one by one. Even the mangled, unrecognizable dogs.
Clunk! Thud!
Infected hauling pumpkin vines dropped them. The tops split open, long tentacles unfurling—human upper bodies clinging to the tips. Kids, looked elementary age or younger. Some barely past infancy.
"Damn."
"Gieeeek-!"
They glared with bulging eyes, shrieking. Their mouths warped grotesquely, primed to fire something.
"Krwoooo-!"
One variant charged. The horde surged after.
We advanced.
Vroooom!
Sedans, trucks, semis, concrete mixers, buses, excavators, fire engines, construction rigs. Heavy machinery left behind to patch hasty construction rushed to my aid like a heavenly host.
"Krwoooo-!"
Moments before collision.
Vreeee-!
Headlights blazed as one.
"Kieeeek-?"
Blinded, frontrunners—variants and infected—staggered back.
Toward that crumbling front, overwhelming vehicular fury slammed home.