Apocalyptic Rebirth: With a repairman system space, she rises again.-Chapter 538: Long search for the leg.

Vicente stopped walking. He took a slow, deep drag of his cigarette and blew the smoke directly into the air. "Lucas," he said quietly.

"Yes?" Lucas asked, hopeful. "I...I didn’t mean it."

Vicente’s lips curled into something between a smile and a snarl. He started to walk, slowly--deliberately, taking a few steps towards Lucas. Every step he took made the air suffocating. Suddenly, everyone thought the world had shrunk and it was too small for Vicente’s presence.

He laid a hand on Lucas’ neck, poison seeping through the pores. His fingers squeezed into the narrow parts of exposed skin, burning into it deeply.

Lucas cried out in agony.

"You’ve got balls," Vicente said softly, almost kindly. "I wonder how long this courage of yours will last when you sleep tonight."

People held their breath, afraid to move or talk. Some wondered what Lucas had been thinking to call Vicente a pussy. The man was not known for tolerating insubordination of any kind.

In Lucas’ case, it was not simple insubordination, it was a challenge. They wondered what kind of example Vicente was going to make of Lucas.

Just like that, Vicente withdrew his hand from Lucas’ neck. "It has been a long day and we have lost many people. Some, are very own loved ones. I suppose that this is the reason for Lucas’ stupidity." He glanced down at Lucas.

The man was on the ground, on his knees. His face was pale, beads of sweat dotted the forehead. His lips were bleeding from where he had been biting down as Vicente’s poison burned him. His right hand was touching the red marks and sores left behind.

"Go out and do as I have ordered." He ordered.

Everyone dispersed, running away before his temper could explode and someone else would suffer the same fate of Lucas who was hauled away by some of his friends. Friends who had received the message clearly: next time, Lucas would not be so lucky.

Vicente looked at his wife, his expression unreadable. "I need you to be smarter than the rest of them because you and I must always be on the same team. Lucas and the so called elite, they are only looking out for their interests. That is why they did not say a word when that bitch was turning us into cannibals.

Lucas harbors malicious ambitions. It is hope that we clash with the Quinns. Think about it, the elites never go out to fight, only us. If we die, they will take control and pay off some other superhumans to protect them.

I don’t trust Sunshine Quinn either, but she could have left my people in the mist. She chose to save them and bring them all out. Mrs. Quinn doesn’t look like the type to go back on a deal she made in the open. If she is anything like her husband, at least I can trust that." He looked at the sky, his boots crunching on broken glass as he prepared to evacuate the destroyed area. "Maybe one day the opportunity will come to screw over Fortress Four. Maybe one day we’ll take it all. But today? Today, they are the only reason we aren’t all burning in a pile. Today, we play nice."

Victoria watched him go, her eyes narrowing. "Nice," she whispered to herself. "I don’t like nice."

*****

The Northern part of the Westbrook forest was a far more lethal landscape than the western side. There, the air was thick with a sweet, sickly smell_ the kind of scent that made you think of honey right before you realized it was coming from a pile of rotting meat. They had long passed the known landmarks on the map and were now in foreign areas. So far, they had spotted two insect colonies, one with mutated bees.

Leah wiped a smudge of glowing green sap from her visor; they had just killed mutated tortoises that ran faster than a cheater. For days, they had been chasing ghosts and coordinates, but it all ended today. "I’m telling you, it has to be around here," she muttered, checking her tablet. "Gravity, wind resistance, the velocity of the Watcher... the leg should have landed right about here."

"Leah, with all due respect to your math, ’right about here’ has been the last five miles," Morris grunted, hacking through a thick, pulsating vine with his machete. Curses at the trees and leaves followed.

The forest was alive in all the wrong ways. They had already fought off Split-Jaw Wolves that tried to trick them into a trap and deer with antlers that moved like grasping fingers. Just an hour ago, Private Stone had almost been taken out by a swarm of deadly mushroom spores! If it wasn’t for the red fang and Vita-E pills they’d been popping like candy, the team would have been paralyzed and eaten before lunch.

"I am out of coconut beans, god damn it!" Phillip cursed, "I am tired of this search and I smell like a rotting red fang flower." He pointed a hose attached to his exo suit upwards and sprayed a chemical gas in the air. More mushroom spores were following them. "Its like the damn things have eyes."

In the back of the line, Old Simon was struggling. The forest floor was a tangled mess of roots that seemed to trip him on purpose. His breathing was heavy, a wet, rattling sound that Leah could hear even over the rustle of the leaves.

She slowed down, letting the main group pull ahead. "Simon? Talk to me. How are you holding up?"

"I’m... I’m fine, girl," Simon wheezed, his face a pale shade of grey. "Just a bit of... the old lungs acting up. Don’t let me stop the_" Before he could finish, his knees buckled. He went down hard, his head narrowly missing a jagged rock_ only because Leah caught it on time.

"Simon!" Leah cried, dropping to her knees beside him.

Private Stone turned back, his face going white. "Is he dead? Oh man, tell me he’s not dead. The president will blame us for his death. He should not have followed us without an exo suit."

Captain Blair marched back, letting out a long, frustrated sigh that sounded like a tire losing air. She checked the old man’s pulse, her expression grim. "He is too old. This is exactly why I didn’t want him on this mission. I told you all! This isn’t a Sunday stroll through the park. It’s a death march. But no, ’Simon has the best eyes,’ you said. ’Simon knows the old trails,’ you said. Now look."

"He insisted on coming, Cap," Phillip said softly, looking down at the old man. "And he has superhuman sight."

"Well, he is still old and so is his superhuman sight apparently, he cannot use it now, can he?" Blair snapped, though she gently adjusted Simon’s head. She looked at Leah. "He can’t go on. His vitals are all over the place. He needs a bed and a real medic, not a field kit."

Phillip stepped forward, his jaw set. "I’ll take him back. I remember the way. I have an exo suit, I will fly him back."

It was a selfless move. Everyone knew the rewards for finding the severed Watcher leg were huge_ cash, food, and status. By leaving now, Phillip was giving it all up.

Leah shook her head, her eyes scanning the dark woods. "It’s not just Simon, Captain. Private Pamela’s arm is useless after those mushroom spores poisoned it. Her breathing is becoming more and more unstable. The terrain is getting weirder. I think we should all turn back but it’s late, the sun is falling. We return early in the morning. We are not giving up on that leg, just pausing our search briefly."