AntiBio: A Post Apocalyptic Thriller Read Online Free Page A

love you.”
    “Love you too.”
    Jersey waits a few minutes to make sure Blaze is gone then takes off her apron and steps back from the workbench.
    “Am I still logged in, Worm?” Jersey asks.
    “According to your work station you are ahead of your quota,” Worm’s voice says from the speakers embedded in the loft’s ceiling.
    “Don’t fudge the numbers too much,” Jersey says. “Then I’ll have to work overtime to catch up.”
    The workbench before her slides into the wall and is replaced by a new one with considerably more advanced equipment.
    “I hate this part,” Jersey says. She grabs a swab from the new workbench and inserts it vaginally. “Ugh.”
    “It is integral to the process, Ms. Cale,” Worm says. “We must maintain accurate data in order to verify that the probiotic is effective.”
    Jersey slips the swab into a slot on the table and it disappears. She takes another and swabs the inside of her cheek; then another and swabs under her left armpit.
    “Can I get dressed now?” she asks.
    “Once I know the samples are sufficient,” Worm says. “And I have StatMisted your body as well as your living quarters.”
    “I hate getting StatMisted, Worm,” Jersey says. “But if it’s all for science.”
    “It is for more than science, Ms. Cale,” Worm says. “It is for the well being of humanity.”
    “So no pressure then?” Jersey smirks.
    “Sampl es are sufficient,” Worm says. “Please don your mask while I StatMist you clean.”
    “Awesome.”
     

 
     
    6
     
    As soon as Blaze leaves Jersey’s building, a voice pops into his ear.
    “Good morning, Sergeant Crouch,” Worm says.
    “Good morning, Worm,” Blaze replies. “How deep is the shit I’m in today?”
    “You were not present for a tower wide alert,” Worm says. “Lieutenant Lane is not pleased with that.”
    “Have you already reported my location to him?” Blaze asks, tucking his hands into the pockets of his pants as he makes his way down the sparsely populated street, careful not to make contact with any of the other pedestrians in case they don’t have their StatShields active. A slight mist wets his clothes and skin as the manufactured precipitation falls from above.
    Blaze looks about at the rough area of Caldicott City the civvies call the Burn because of the amount of soldering home jobs that have been assigned to the citizens that live there. Shit work that doesn’t pay much, but like Jersey’s loft, you get some space to yourself in order to store enough parts and do the jobs properly.
    Unlike the rest of Caldicott City , which is smooth metal and soft curves, the Burn is blocky structures, many looking like they were old before the Unseen Wars. Half way down the block an old woman mutters to herself, propped up against a Caldicott City incinerator bin. She’s busy tearing something apart, laughing as she tosses each bit into the incinerator.
    Blaze shakes his head and keeps moving; he can’t draw too much attention. A man built like him –all deadly muscles and health- can bring the wrong element quickly, hoping to roll him for something they can sell for a cup of home cooked stim.
    “Worm? I lose you, buddy?” Blaze asks.
    “No, Sergeant,” Worm replies. “I was double checking my log notations for you. Ms. Cale’s device is working at optimum levels and keeping your location o ff the logs.”
    Blaze fingers the medallion around his neck. “And you haven’t reported me off the rez?”
    “If by off the rez, you mean off GenSOF tower premises, then no, Sergeant, I have not.”
    “I appreciate that,” Blaze says. “Thanks for having my back.”
    “It is my duty to look after the wellbeing of all ope rators in Zebra squad, Sergeant,” Worm says. “Even if that means breaking protocol. Your irrational desire to put the general population at risk by leaving the GenSOF tower is troubling, but as I cannot stop you, I see no reason to destroy your career. You are a remarkable operator and