Oliver and Joseph had to get the situation under control—they had to get back to the source in the mess hall. Going back into the corridors was like walking back onto a battlefield. A thick green gas clouded their vision. The cries and coughing of navy troops who didn’t escape echoed all around them. They carefully navigated around, making sure not to step on anybody.
“Geez… It’s like a post-apocalyptic scene,” Oliver mumbled, stepping over a flailing troop. “They can barely breathe.”
“Make sure you don’t let your filters run out,” Joseph reminded, muffled from wearing the gas mask.
Copyright © 2019 by Luka Tatsujo
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