"What? Wait it out? Absolutely not!" Lilith protests. "I need to get this patient to Doctor William Malkovich," she says, pointing at Mimi.
It's rude to point.
"And how exactly do you plan to do that?" Frank asks. "Those people out there are blocking the gates. Unless you're willing to risk getting attacked again."
Lilith tightens her grip on her injured arm.
"Besides, what's so urgent? The lass looks fine to me," Frank adds.
He turns to Mimi. "What are you here for, anyway?" he asks bluntly, but it's a fair question.
If someone like Doctor Malkovich is personally involved, it has to be something serious.
"I—I'm here to get rid of… these," Mimi mumbles, gesturing awkwardly to her chest.
…That… makes sense. Those things are massive. Probably weigh a ton each. But… If she's here just for a simple breast reduction, why is the doc interested?
Is… is he a pervert?
No, that can't be. He's a renewed doctor.
"Regardless, I was given orders—" Lilith insists, but Claire cuts in.
"How about we just wait until the crowd disperses before deciding what to do next?" she suggests, trying to deescalate the situation.
Frank huffs—his way of agreeing—and Lilith gives a reluctant nod.
And so we waited.
Frank pulls out a book.
An actual, physical book.
Didn't think people still carried those around. Most just use digital copies—it's easier.
He begins reading while Lilith sits quietly, staring absentmindedly into space. And Claire—
A loud rumble cuts through the room.
Mimi freezes, then quickly covers her stomach, mortified.
Sounds like she skipped breakfast.
I offer her a protein bar. I always keep a few in my bag for when hunger hits mid-job. They don't taste like much, but they do fill you up.
"Th-thanks," she whispers, taking it.
I nod, making a conscious effort to keep my eyes from drifting to her bust.
I've already embarrassed myself enough—I don't need to make it worse.
Still… I can't help but notice how she's been holding herself—arms crossed tightly beneath her chest, practically cradling the weight just to keep it supported. It looks exhausting.
"They're not leaving," Claire murmurs.
I wasn't looking—
Oh, wait. She's talking about the people outside.
She's been watching them through the window. Keeping an eye on those… infected. Feels strange calling them that.
I take a peek and… ugh. I wish I didn't. There are more of them now.
And worse… many have started pushing against the fence, trying to force their way in.
Void.
They're getting worse.
Those people are turning into the same kind of madman that attacked us.
…This is bad.
The fence is strong, sure—but against those numbers?
It's not going to hold forever.
"Frank… I think we should reconsider escaping," Claire says.
Yeah. I'm with her on that.
"And how exactly do you propose we do that?" Frank replies, not even looking up from his book. "We're completely surrounded."
Ugh. He's not wrong.
"C—can't we go inside the hospital?" Mimi suggests timidly.
That's… actually not a bad idea.
"The only entrance on this side is the cargo doors," Frank says, flipping a page. "And we don't have clearance."
That must be one interesting book—
Wait.
Cargo doors?
"I can get us in," I say, raising my hand.
Everyone turns to look at me.
Even Frank finally glances up.
"What? Who do you think they call when those doors won't open?" I shrug.
Last time, some genius forgot the password. I had to force a full system reset and use the factory default password.
"But… will the hospital hold against…"
Claire doesn't have to finish the phrase. We all know what she's implying.
"No. It won't," Frank says bluntly.
Way to break our hope.
"But we can use it to bypass that mob," he adds, finally closing his book and rolling his chair over to the monitors.
He scans through the feeds.
"The north exit's clear," he says.
North…
"That's where I parked my van," I add.
"Good. Then we use it to escape," Frank replies, already shifting into action mode.
"Hey, nurse. How were you planning to meet that doctor?"
Oh! Thinking of going to see Doctor William Malkovich? That's a good idea. I'm sure he knows what's going on.
We all wait for her answer.
Nothing.
"Hey, Nurse!" Frank repeats, louder.
"W—what?" she snaps, jolting out of her daze.
"How were you planning to meet the doctor?" he asks again.
Lilith hesitates, like she's trying to piece her thoughts back together. Probably going through an adrenaline crash.
"I—I was supposed to take the bridge in sector two," she finally says.
Sector two…
That's where the private transport line for the head doctors is.
If anything is still running between the modules…
…it would be that.
"Good. Then we have a plan," Frank says, pushing himself to his feet.
I follow him outside—along with the others—and the noise hits me all at once.
The violent rattling of the gate, combined with that awful sound—that half-growl, half-exhale the infected keep making.
Without the walls of the guardhouse to muffle it, it's unsettlingly loud.
I force myself to tune it out and focus on what matters: getting the cargo door open.
Don't think about the dozens of people trying to tear you apart…
«Kill them!»
Yeah… this is going to be difficult.
I reach the door—a square, garage-like hatch set about a meter off the ground. It's meant for unloading trucks, but I'll take whatever gets me out of here.
I pull out my datapad and get to work on the lock. It'll take a minute to reset the system, then I can use the default password—the last four digits of the serial number.
…4732.
A heavy clunk echoes as the lock disengages.
Frank doesn't hesitate. He grabs the edge and lifts the door open.
"Move. Quickly," he urges, hauling himself up inside.
What? Not even a thank you?
That's just rude—
KREEEK!
The gate groans loudly under the relentless assault.
Right. No time to waste.
I pull myself up after him. Lilith climbs in next.
Mimi follows, but the climb is clearly a challenge for her. The height alone would be manageable, but the sheer size and weight she's carrying up front makes it hard. She has to lean forward—
And I accidentally catch a glimpse of her deep valley.
Right.
Nope.
I immediately look away, heat rushing to my face.
Focus. Not the time.
"Here—hold on," Claire says, stepping in to help.
With her help, Mimi manages to make it inside. Claire climbs in after and slides the door shut behind us.
Inside, the storage area is mostly empty—just a few crates neatly piled up in a corner and no personnel. That's good… Or is it?
"The north exit's this way," Frank says, heading toward a set of double doors labeled North Wing.
He pushes one open—
And freezes.
"What is it?" I ask, stepping up beside him to take a peek.
And immediately go still.
The hallway beyond is filled with people.
Medical staff. Patients.
All standing there.
Not moving.
Just… standing. With the occasional sudden jerk. Like a spasm.
Twitching.
That's never a good sign.
Frank taps my shoulder and gestures toward a heavy-duty elevator off to the side of the storage area.
I nod vigorously.
Yes. Absolutely. Let's not go through the hallway full of infected.
He quietly shuts the door and signals for the others to follow.
We hurry to the elevator and hit the button for the second floor.
The hospital only has two levels. One of the downsides of artificial gravity—centrifugal force limits how tall structures can be. Go too high, and the gravity weakens.
We reach the second floor, and the elevator doors slide open onto a corridor—
"Eek!" I yelp, immediately jabbing the close button over and over.
But Frank plants his hand against the door, stopping it.
Wh—what is he doing? The whole floor is full of infected. We need to get out of here before—
"I'd rather take my chances with these ones than the crowd downstairs," he mutters.
What? Is he insane? These people—
…Actually…
I take a closer look.
Most of them are elderly. Weak. Some barely able to stand.
Right. The second floor.
This is where they keep patients who need extra care.
"Let's move," Frank says, pulling out his baton. Claire does the same.
Ugh.
I sling my backpack in front of me like a shield and step out of the elevator as quietly as I can.
Why must this hospital be so serious about hygiene? Couldn't they have skipped washing the patients just this once?
We approach the first infected—an old man in a hospital gown, facing the wall.
Please keep facing the wall.
«He's wide open! Take him down!»
We slip past him without trouble.
"Uug…"
Space junk!
One of them noticed me.
He's staring straight at me with those empty eyes.
He isn't attacking… What do I do?
«Strike first!»
"Keep moving," Frank whispers.
I obey, keeping my backpack raised.
Mimi hurries along behind me, holding her large breasts tightly so they don't shake. Doesn't seem to be working. Those flesh balls have a life of their own.
"They're closing in," Claire says.
Space junk—she's right.
The infected are starting to move. Slowly, but steadily, drifting toward us.
We're going to get surrounded.
"Run!" Frank orders, shoving one aside.
We bolt.
Frank and Claire take the lead, forcing a path through. Lilith follows close behind them.
By the stars, they're fast.
I push my short legs as hard as I can, trying to keep up. I can hear Mimi right behind me, struggling as well.
One of the infected grabs for me—
I slam my backpack into him and keep going.
«Kill everyone!»
The stairwell door is right there—
«Rip them apart!»
Claire yanks it open while Frank holds the line, keeping the infected back.
I dash through, nearly crashing into the railing.
I'm in!
Mimi stumbles in a second later, and Claire slams the door shut, jamming her baton through the handles.
"Everyone okay?" she asks, turning to check on us.
We're all breathing hard—but still in one piece.
For now, at least.
"We keep moving," Frank grunts, already heading down the stairs.
I would've loved to catch my breath for a second, but…
I glance at the doors. A cluster of people stands on the other side, pushing against them—not reaching for the handles, just shoving. That's… not normal.
«Burn this place down!»
Yeah. Better get moving.
The stairwell looks clear—no infected in sight—but I stay tense, eyes scanning anyway—
"Eeekk!"
A scream.
I spin around just in time to see Mimi lose her footing on the step above me—
"Uff—!"
Her chest slams straight into my face.
Not just hits—engulfs.
It's like being buried under two massive, impossibly soft cushions.
I flail instinctively, arms searching for anything to grab as our combined weight pitches backward. For a split second, I'm certain we're both about to tumble all the way down.
Then—by pure luck—my hand finds the railing.
I latch onto it like my life depends on it—because it absolutely does—and wrench us to a stop.
We freeze there.
Her chest still pressed firmly against my face.
"I—I'm sorry—!" she mumbles, trying to push herself up—
—but that only makes things worse.
Because they shift.
Stars above—they shift.
There's just… so much of them.
Then suddenly—
She jerks back, and the overwhelming pressure is gone.
Air rushes into my lungs in one desperate gasp.
Glorious. Life-saving air.
"I—I'm so sorry!" Mimi blurts, face blazing red as she stumbles back a step—much more carefully this time. "I slipped! I didn't mean to—I—"
I cough, still clinging to the railing like it's the only thing keeping me alive.
"It's—fine," I manage between breaths. "Just… warn me next time before deploying… those."
Oh void, why did I say that?
Her face turns even redder.
"S-sorry… I—I'm not used to them," she squeaks, hugging herself tightly, like she can somehow make them smaller.
She can't.
Not even a little.
Those things are huge.
No—huge doesn't even begin to cover it.
They're absurd.
The fabric of her gown is stretched to its absolute limit, barely containing them. Every tiny movement makes them shift and sway with a weight that looks completely unmanageable—like they've got their own inertia.
How does she even walk like that?
Wait.
…
My brain, against all odds, starts calculating.
Height. Angle. Line of sight.
And then it clicks.
She can't see her feet.
Not with those massive things in the way.
That's got to be—what—almost two meters of blind spot?
No wonder she slipped on perfectly normal stairs.
I sigh and extend my hand.
"Here. I'll help you get down."
Mimi looks at it, then up at me.
There's a flicker of genuine gratitude in her expression.
"Th-thank you," she says softly, taking my hand.
She really shouldn't thank me.
I'm just doing this to avoid another near-death-by-smothering experience.
We reach the bottom of the stairs, where the others are already waiting. If they notice our hands briefly still joined, none of them comment. Then again, their attention is clearly elsewhere—fixed on the doors ahead and what's beyond them.
Through the glass, I spot the medical staff on the other side.
Infected.
And, unlike the ones on the second floor, these stood tense—more like animals ready to snap than mindless shells.
"Exit's right there," Frank says, pointing toward a set of automatic sliding doors not far ahead.
Automatic doors…
That means we won't be able to seal them behind us. If those infected come after us, they'll follow us straight out.
"Frank, how much charge is left in your stun baton?" Claire asks.
Frank glances at it, then shakes his head.
"None."
Great. Our only real weapon is useless. And judging by the situation, Claire's baton is probably drained too—that's likely why she used it to secure the door upstairs.
If only there were a way to recharge them…
«Supercharge it!»
Wait.
"Hand it over," I say, already reaching into my bag for supplies.
Frank gives me a questioning look but passes the baton over.
I take it and immediately get to work.
This is not by the books…
«Desperate times!»
I remove the dead battery and pull out one of my spare power cells—the kind I use for my electric tools.
"That's not going to fit," Frank points out.
I ignore him.
Carefully, I strip a couple of wires, connect the external battery, and secure everything with tape until it's held together firmly enough to function.
"There," I say, handing it back. "It's not pretty, but it should work."
Frank tests it. A bright spark jumps across the electrodes.
He nods, a small grin forming.
"I can work with this."
Good.
Because now the only thing left is…
I swallow.
Running straight through a corridor full of infected.
«Hahaha!»
"Everyone ready?" Frank asks.
No.
«Let's go!»
Frank throws the door open and charges ahead.
The first infected—a nurse with a solid, athletic build—snaps her head toward him. I can see her eyes—bloodshot—and her expression—feral—as she lunges forward with a scream.
Frank doesn't hesitate. He strikes her with the baton, electricity crackling as it drops her instantly.
"Move!" he shouts, already advancing on the next one.
We follow, sprinting past the fallen nurse—who's already starting to stir back up.
Frank clears a path with quick shocks, but the gap he creates won't last long.
More infected are converging.
Moving erratically—but fast.
We burst into the parking lot, running full speed toward the van. Behind us, the sounds of the infected chasing after us.
Damn automatic doors! Didn't even try to slow them down.
Claire reaches the van first. She slides the side door open and waves us in.
Lilith jumps in right away. I follow, diving inside a split second later. Mimi arrives just after, stumbling in with a hurried step.
"We're good!" Claire calls, climbing in and pulling the door shut behind us.
Frank delivers one last shock to an approaching infected before jumping into the driver's seat.
"Keys!" he shouts.
I scramble to find them, hands searching my pockets as the infected close in. Several are already pounding against the van's exterior.
"Here!" I say, tossing the keys forward.
Frank catches them and immediately starts the engine, flooring it just as the infected begin to surround us.
The sudden acceleration throws me off.
I stumble over and collide headfirst into something impossibly soft.
"—!"
I freeze.
My face is completely buried, swallowed by a plush, overwhelming softness that gives under the impact and then presses back—like falling into a pair of oversized cushions that have no business being this large.
"…S-sorry!" I blurt out, scrambling upright as fast as I can, my face burning the instant I realize exactly what I just face-planted into.
"I—it's okay," Mimi stammers, cheeks flushed deep red. "I know it wasn't on purpose—"
The van hits a bump.
A big one.
"Ah—!"
Mimi lets out a startled cry as her chest surges upward, then drops with a heavy, uncontrollable bounce that looks like it has way too much momentum behind it.
"N-no—!" she squeaks, immediately bringing her arms up to hold them down.
It… does not work.
Not even close.
There's just too much.
"I—why won't they—!" she squeaks, flustered, trying a different grip.
Still bouncing.
Still wildly out of control.
Claire, gripping a handle nearby, glances over with wide eyes before snapping her attention back forward. "Frank, could you not drive like you're trying to shake the van apart?!"
"Would you rather I slow down?!" Frank snaps back, swerving sharply. "Because that's how we get surrounded!"
Right. Fair point.
"This is—this is so embarrassing—!" Mimi whimpers, face burning as she struggles to hold her breasts still.
The van hits another uneven patch, and she lets out a small, panicked sound as the effort fails again.
"Hey—uh—try this," I say, quickly shrugging off my backpack and holding it out to her. "Press it against… you know. It might help stabilize things."
She blinks at me, flustered—but nods quickly.
"O-okay—!"
She grabs the backpack and hugs it tightly against her chest, pressing it in as if trying to pin everything down.
It definitely helps.
The movement is reduced, but it's not enough.
Not with that much to deal with.
I can see the sides of her chest pushing past the backpack—soft curves peeking out on either side, shifting with every movement of the van.
"Ah—!"
The van jolts again, and she squeaks, tightening her grip.
"I-it's still moving!" she complains, trying to press the backpack in harder like that'll somehow defy physics.
It doesn't.
There's just too much mass, too much momentum.
Another turn—another shake—and the restrained motion slips past her control again, drawing another embarrassed sound from her.
"Mmh—!"
At least now it's… slightly less dangerous for everyone else in the van.