Sic wasn't sure when she had forgotten just how depraved the world was since the bombs fell. So many of them fell actually that the unimaginable happened.
The Earth started cracking open and
things
crawled up out of it. Maybe it was the end of the world and no one had realized it yet. No one that was still alive anyhow. Mankind was always determined to keep hanging on even when Hell itself seemed to manifest all across the fucking planet.
Not to mention the fallout and the inevitable mutations that came with it. The healthier humans were the only ones allowed to breed and given shelter below ground from the harsh inheritance their ancestors had left them.
Rumors even said there were some so pure that they had never seen the surface. Sic thought that was probably bullshit.
Even with unbreathable surface air, radiation, and countless other dangers Sic wouldn't have chosen to be a breeder bitch trapped in a steel tomb until she could no longer pop out children.
She could almost be thankful she was 'defective' and sent to do manual labor in the exclusion zone. As a sixth generation defective or 'S.G.D' as the government had so lovingly called her and others like her. She was of a unique class that had a natural resistance to radiation. It allowed her to go where most humans couldn't with minimal protection.
Sic still needed a rebreather filtration device to protect her from the fires that still burned deep below the ground, the smoke thick and choking hot.
Her natural defenses hadn't came without a price however. She was required to wear a half mask to cover the scarring on the right side of her face that showed she was a defective. The government didn't want to upset the normal folk with the truth should she need to venture into one of the walled cities. She had seen the propaganda claiming that the clean up was going well. There was nothing to worry about, really. Very few were even aware of how many defectives like her were forced into slave labor or maybe they just didn't care.
Sic's job was to contain the waste that covered the area for miles, part of the cleanup effort that would take years of backbreaking labor. Even then it wouldn't be safe for the pures for years still.
Sic believed the inbreeding would kill them off long before the Earth would be safe for them to occupy, personally.
She rested on top of the remains of a tank watching a six-legged dog struggle to drag it's bloated abdomen across the scorched soil, the legs on one side of it's body shorter than the other.
She couldn't tell if it was gravid or part of it's mutation. One of the limbs started spasming frantically when it saw her and she realized that she'd mistaken it's tail for another leg. Sic clicked her tongue and threw a small piece of her bread ration to the creature which it happily slurped up.
An ear splitting bang resounded and the dog thing fell over dead, the remains of it's meal falling from it's open jaws. Sic's stomach fell in shock as she turned to face the guard she hadn't noticed until now, a wisp of smoke trailing from the barrel of his rifle.
"Back to work, defective," he said, his electronically filtered voice completely devoid of emotion filled her with rage. He was dressed in the usual gear, a gas mask with twin filters and thermal lenses that made him seem even more alien.
Sic very rarely saw another human that wasn't entirely wrapped in tactical clothing without a single inch of skin on display. That's why the man lingers a little longer than necessary clearly staring at her exposed thigh and most of her buttock where she'd cut off her old pants a little too short. If there were any other women around these parts they were wrapped up tighter than sausages on the twelve hour patrol days the officers usually had.
It's so damnably hot she almost wishes she could be provided the luxury of one of those air conditioned suits the pures got. She gave him the finger and lifted her mask and she saw him visibly startle in surprise taking a half step back. Served him right for killing the dog.
She may not get the comfortable life the pures did but she did get the assurance that she could be rude with her captors and not be dumped in a hole to rot for it. She was a rare breed they couldn't afford to lose, capable of going places they couldn't.
Doing the dirty jobs they wouldn't dare.
Sadly, this also meant Sic was just property more than a living thinking human. Today was the day she would have to report to the office and get her microchip examined. A small device that told them where she was at all times as well other data about her physical state. If she tried to tamper with it, it would release a powerful neurotoxin before she could cut it from her skin, paralyzing her instantly.
Sic finished her bread ration and breezed past the guard, readjusting her mask on the way. She had never liked the thing, it was porcelain, made to look like one of those creepy old pre-war dolls. Years of harsh living had left it dulled with grime and covered in a spiderweb of tiny cracks.
It was made to look
beautiful
and not
real
.
Not
scary.
Not like Sic.
Somehow, even at the end of the world the need for superficial things was still present. Sic heard a low screech coming from the barracks and ignored it, putting up her shawl and keeping her head down to avoid drawing as much attention as possible.
The outpost was filled with around forty humans or so and Sic only knew of one other woman; an elderly scientist that went by the name of Kate. One of the few that showed sympathy towards Sic instead of treating her like a piece of meat.
The officer responsible for her microchip for the week was Carter, a man perpetually in a foul mood, the vein in his temple had took up a permanent residence there and pulsed harder when he saw her coming.
"You're late," he said.
