Sacrificial Mission

Assigned by the government, I was sent on a perilous military mission to an isolated, quarantined zone. My task was clear but grim: collect virus samples from the corpses scattered across the area and ensure every body was securely wrapped to prevent further contamination. Under the watchful eyes of three stern commanders waiting in a military truck, I ventured into the ruins, knowing the truth they concealed. These weren’t ordinary corpses—they were victims of a small-scale nuclear explosion, some of whom could still move, driven by lingering, unconscious reflexes. As if the danger of infection wasn’t enough, many of the samples I needed were damaged, requiring me to risk even closer contact. It felt like I was being sacrificed, sent on a mission with no return. Yet, faced with the harsh reality of either compliance or death, I had no choice but to push forward, clinging to the faint hope of survival.