The sewers of Sector 4 weren't built for people. They were built for wastes.
The ceiling hung so low we had to duck while moving. The walls were slick with something green that smelled like rot and chemicals. And the water, was black, freezing, and up to my knees — it dragged at my legs with every step like it wanted to keep us in.
Maya moved ahead of me. Silent, and with her Rifle above the waterline. She hadn't spoken since we'd started running. She didn't need to. Her eyes said everything — move faster, stay quiet, and don't die.
Sarah was behind me, with one hand on the wall. Each step cost her something. I could hear it in her breathing — short, sharp, too fast. Her cloned body was shutting down, piece by piece, like a machine running out of fuel. She wouldn't say it. She was too proud. But I could feel the heat coming off her skin when she brushed past me. Fever. Bad fever.
