A Rotting World

A Rotting World

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WpMetadataReadMatureOngoing7m
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Wed, Apr 29, 2015
"they're in the base!" Jack yelled running for his gun, the infected had broke through the barrier and were running up stairs, with no where to go Ivan had to jump.
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Code: 213

TEASER: I sit comfortably in my makeshift shelter, planning my next voyage to the surface. Faint footsteps above ground snap me out of my thought. I silently reached to my loaded gun, an SKO Shorty, and carefully pulled back the hammer. I silently crept up the unstable metal stairs, aiming my gun at the door at the top. The heavy metal door creaked. Something was behind it. The door pushes open to reveal a man. A human. He slowly reaches into his pocket and pulls out a crinkled yellow paper. I grab the note, while lowering my gun. I look up only to find the man gone. I unfold the paper. It's hard to make out the words in red ink with the dim lighting of the sewer tunnel. Eventually, I'm able to decipher, "34.0522' N, 118.2437' W". Coordinates. At the bottom of the note, scribbled out in black in, there's one phrase. "Code: 213" *Please note this story includes graphic depictions of blood and violence. This story may not be suitable for all audiences.

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