Chapter 1802 - 1375: Poison Mist Envelops the City (Part 3)

Abu You grabbed the radio: "All vehicles, try ramming the barrier! Repeat, ram the barrier!"

An armored personnel carrier gunned its engine and charged the rubble pile, smashing aside a few concrete slabs from the top layer, but more debris slid down from above, sealing the gap even tighter.

Yellow smoke poured in from both ends of the street at the same time. Abu You saw the smoke hugging the ground as it flowed, like a living thing hunting for prey.

First it seeped out through the gaps in the sewer grates, then gathered into streams, creeping along the base of the walls; when it met an obstacle it would briefly pile up, then spill over and continue forward.

"Gas masks on!"

Abu You roared, fumbling frantically for his own gas mask.

He got it on quickly, but immediately realized something was wrong.

The mask's sealing strip had aged; there were tiny gaps along the edge, and he could feel air leaking in there, carrying that sickly sweet, acrid stench.

His eyes started burning, as if someone had thrown chili powder in them.

Then his throat, as if it were being scraped with rough sandpaper.

Abu You began coughing violently; every cough tore at his chest with searing pain.

He looked outside the vehicle.

Several soldiers without masks had already collapsed on the ground, bodies curled up, both hands clawing desperately at their throats.

Their faces were swollen to a purplish red, mouths gaping wide, yet no sound came out—this was pulmonary edema caused by the gas, the lungs flooding so they couldn't breathe.

In the end, these men would die from suffocation.

Other soldiers were showing different symptoms.

A young soldier ripped open his shirt, clawing madly at his chest.

On his exposed skin, red blotches were erupting at a speed visible to the naked eye, followed by blisters—large ones the size of coins, smaller ones packed so tightly they fused into sheets.

He opened his mouth in a scream, but the sound was twisted into a strange whimper by the gas mask and his spasming throat.

Abu You shoved the door open and stumbled out of the vehicle.

He wanted to give orders, to organize a breakout, but every breath he sucked in carried poison.

His vision began to blur, his limbs grew heavy, and each breath demanded all his strength.

Just then, an engine roar came from the flank.

Abu You forced his head around and saw a bulldozer bursting out of a narrow side alley.

That was combat engineer equipment, originally meant for clearing roadblocks.

The bulldozer's driver was clearly wearing a gas mask too; he worked the massive blade and slammed it hard into the rubble choking the street.

On the first impact, the debris shifted.

On the second impact, a crack opened.

On the third impact, a barely passable gap for vehicles was smashed through.

"Go! Go! Go!"

Overjoyed, Abu You shouted with everything he had left.

The remaining vehicles struggled to start and squeezed through the gap one by one.

Two soldiers hauled Abu You up and shoved him into an armored personnel carrier.

"Sir, your mask—" a soldier yelled.

Only then did Abu You realize his gas mask had come loose when he fell.

He tightened it again, but he had already inhaled a dose of the gas.

His lungs felt on fire, every breath raking them with scorching pain.

The convoy broke out of the encirclement and retreated north along a relatively open street.

From the rear window, Abu You watched the yellow smoke still spreading behind them, though the distance was slowly widening.

He grabbed the radio, thumbed the transmit key, and rasped, "Samir… don't come in… the whole city is…"

He didn't finish before another bout of violent coughing hit.

Samir's anxious voice crackled through the channel: "Abu You? You're alive? Your position? Tell me where you are!"

"We're… pulling back north from Central Avenue…" Abu You had to gasp between every few words, each sentence punctuated by harsh, racking coughs: "Cough, cough, cough— heavy… losses… the gas… it's a mixed agent…"

"Copy! Keep moving north! We'll set up a medical station outside the city! Hold on!"

Abu You released the transmit key and sagged into the seat.

Sweat had soaked through his Combat Uniform, and the pain from his lungs surged in tightening waves.

But he was still alive, and at least part of his unit had broken out.

He looked out the window; Titrick's outline was fading in the yellow haze.

The city had become Hell, and they had just crawled away from Hell's edge.

The APC jolted as it crossed the city limits and shot onto the road leading to the safe zone.

Abu You closed his eyes, but the images still floated up: the soldiers lying on the ground, comrades clawing at their own flesh until it turned to bloody pulp, the men who had choked to death in the gas.

Madmen!

He cursed them viciously in his heart.

The 1515 Armed were an extremist cult made up entirely of lunatics!

Every single one of those bastards, shoving a gun to their heads and sending them to Hell would be a service to humanity!