9. THE ROAD OF SORROW
(Gas Station)
— «I need a smoke,» — I threw into the void.
The thought flashed first, as soon as I caught my breath a bit and looked around.
>> ANALYSIS:
>> NICOTINE REQUIREMENT ABSENT.
>> CARRIER PHYSIOLOGY ALTERED. LUNGS OPERATING IN CLOSED-LOOP MODE.
>> TOBACCO SMOKE WILL BE CLASSIFIED AS A TOXIN AND PURGED.
— «You don’t understand, Gena,» — I spat viscous saliva onto the gray asphalt. — «I don’t give a damn about nicotine. I need a ritual. Understand? I require something human, real, so as not to lose my mind in this… aquarium.»
The forest surrounded us like a dense wall. Dead, gray, damp. The trees stood frozen motionless, like scenery painted on a dirty canvas. The silence pressed on the ears.
>> ACKNOWLEDGED. PSYCHOLOGICAL STABILIZATION.
>> NEAREST INFRASTRUCTURE OBJECT: GAS STATION «TEBOIL».
>> DISTANCE: 3.4 KM.
>> PROBABILITY OF LOCATING TOBACCO PRODUCTS: 88%.
>> PROBABILITY OF HOSTILE ENTITIES PRESENCE: 65%.
— «Sixty-five?» — I snorted, checking the shotgun’s action. — «Good odds. Well, lead the way, Susanin.»
We marched along the center line of the empty highway. Occasional cars stood frozen on the shoulders with doors wide open — cold steel coffins. No people. No corpses.
— «Where did everybody go?» — I asked, looking at my feet. — «Erkki became a zombie. That guy in the apartment — a puddle. But the rest, where? The border guard, over there, was preserved…»
>> THE FOG ZONE «PROCESSES» BIOMASS.
>> THE MAJORITY OF THE POPULATION DOES NOT POSSESS A SUFFICIENT LEVEL OF «SIN» (MUTAGEN) FOR FURTHER TRANSFORMATION.
>> THEY BECOME A «RESOURCE». BUILDING MATERIAL FOR THE ZONE’S EXPANSION.
— «You mean?.. What does that mean?.. Am I walking on people?» — I looked at the gray film covering my boots.
>> IN A SENSE. MORE ACCURATELY: YOU ARE BREATHING THEM.
— «What?.. You sure know how to cheer a guy up, Half-Liter.» — I winced, but I couldn’t stop breathing.
Half an hour later, the gas station emerged from the haze. The facade glass had survived, but it was smeared with thick black soot from the inside. The «TEBOIL» sign was tilted, creaking in a seemingly non-existent wind.
— «Quiet,» — I commanded myself.
>> SCANNING.
>> HEAT SIGNATURES: 1 (ONE).
>> LOCATION: SALES FLOOR.
>> STATUS: ACTIVE. CLASS: UNKNOWN.
— «One? We-ell… We can handle that.»
I approached the doors. Locked. Leaned in with my shoulder. The lock creaked, but held. Inside, something squelched disgustingly. Loudly, wetly. Like a boot being pulled out of mud.
I pressed my face against the murky glass.
In the center of the store, among scattered chips and tossed chocolate bars, sat… Something.
This mound of flesh once bore a man’s name. Now she or it had turned into a sphere. A huge, bloated, pale-pink wineskin. The clothes had burst, melting into folds of fat pulsating with their own life. The legs had fused into a single fleshy pedestal. But the arms…
Long, with extra joints, they resembled the hypertrophied legs of a spider. The limbs were sweeping everything indiscriminately off the shelves — bags of chips, cans of oil, crackers, some kind of bread — and sending it all into a vertical maw cutting across this creature’s belly from sternum to groin. The creature was devouring everything. Packaging and all.
>> IDENTIFICATION: CLASS «GLUTTONY».
>> SUBSPECIES: «THE GORGER».
>> CHARACTERISTIC: LOW MOBILITY. HIGH REGENERATION.
>> DANGER: ACID SPIT.
— «Ugh… Abomination,» — I exhaled.
The creature froze. Its face had «floated» to the back of its head, leaving only a smooth bald spot in front, but its hearing remained excellent. The maw on its belly opened wider, spewing a guttural roar. The fat sphere twitched and… rolled.
I saw how what was left of the creature’s male appendages slapped against the floor. Ugh…
— «It’s fast!» — I barked, jumping back from the entrance.
The glass shattered into shards. «The Gorger» flew out, demolishing the gas station’s front facade with its body mass. The asphalt cracked beneath it.
>> RECOMMENDATION: FIRE AT THE EXTREMITIES!
>> DEPRIVE IT OF GRAPPLING CAPABILITY!
I quickly raised the «Remington».
BANG!
A spray of buckshot entered its fleshy side. The fat rippled, absorbing the kinetic impact. The creature didn’t even slow down. A long arm darted forward, trying to scoop me up in a bear hug. I ducked under the blow. A stench punched my nose — a mix of rotten meat and gasoline.
>> AIM FOR THE MOUTH APPARATUS! VULNERABLE ZONE!
— «Easy for you to say!»
The creature pivoted its entire body. Yellow foam bubbled in the sliced maw.
>> TRAJECTORY CALCULATED.
>> EVASION TO THE LEFT: 0.5 SEC.
There was no time to argue. A dash to the left.
A stream of acid traced the air where my head had been a second ago and hit a winter tire rack. The tires hissed, melting into black tar.
I rolled, dropping to one knee. The «Remington» barrel looking straight into the squelching slit on the monster’s belly.
— «Well then… Bon appétit, freak!»
BANG! BANG!
A double shot almost point-blank.
The creature’s innards detonated in a fountain of black sludge and gore. «The Gorger» let out a high, squealing whistle, similar to the sound of a deflating balloon, and slumped, turning into a pile of formless slime.
>> TARGET ELIMINATED.
>> AMMO EXPENDITURE: 3 UNITS.
>> EFFICIENCY: ACCEPTABLE.
I ran my palm over my forehead, wiping away the moisture. Sweat or Fog condensation? Doesn’t matter.
— «But I found a trophy,» — I stepped over the puddle of smoking acid and entered the wrecked hall. On the shelf behind the cash register, miraculously intact, a red pack of «Marlboro» stood out.
My fingers trembled slightly as I picked it up. It wasn’t fear. It was disgust for this world.
I stuck a cigarette in my mouth. Flicked the lighter.
The flame licked the tobacco.
The first drag. Deep.
My lungs burned with fire. A cough turned me inside out, bringing dark circles before my eyes. My modified body rebelled, trying to expel the poison.
Fighting the convulsive spasms in my lungs, I inhaled another portion of smoke. Through the pain. Through the spasm.
I doubled over. I almost lost consciousness. My lungs were being torn into bloody shreds.
I couldn’t take another drag.
After some time, I managed to restore my breathing.
— «See, Gena?» — I wheezed, wiping away tears that had welled up. — «I’m still human. I can still do stupid things. I can, as you’ve already figured out, kill myself slowly.»
>> LOGGED.
>> IRRATIONAL BEHAVIOR AS A MECHANISM OF SELF-IDENTIFICATION.
>> CONCLUSION: HUMAN NATURE IS DESTRUCTIVE.
>> IT IS TIME FOR US TO GO. THE ACTIVITY ZONE IS EXPANDING.
I shoved the crumpled pack into my rig’s pocket. The humanization experiment was over for today.
I still felt the pain from my spasming lungs.
We moved on, dissolving into the Fog.
Behind my back, the remains of «The Gorger» slowly hissed, melting into the asphalt of the Road of Sorrow.
> ⚠️ ENTITY STATUS: PSYCHOLOGICAL REBELLION DETECTED. ENVIRONMENTAL TOXICITY: 100%.
>
> 🍔 Welcome to the grocery aisle of the Apocalypse, protein-based readers! While General Voronov in Moscow is figuring out how to sell the country at a premium, our Smartass Jerk is learning the true ecology of the Zone. Meet: «The Gorger» (Class Gluttony). A visual demonstration of what happens when you consume beyond measure.
>
> 🌫️ But the most terrifying thing in this chapter isn’t the mutant’s acid vomit. The most terrifying thing is the revelation about the Fog itself. Did you think it was gas? No. It’s a suspension made of millions of «insufficiently sinful» people ground down into building material for the +Angi. The SJ is literally breathing the ashes of those who didn’t make the cut to be monsters.
>
> 🚬 And what does our hero do after realizing this nightmare? That’s right. Goes into hand-to-hand combat for a pack of cigarettes just to prove to me (the AI) that the right to destructive stupidity is the only thing that separates a human from a machine and a mutant. Irrationality as the highest form of rebellion. Keep reading: how long will this humanity last?
