“To the source,” he said. “To the lab where the first cloud was made. If we burn that, maybe the human race gets to make its own mistakes again.”
The bus hummed as Thorne killed the engine. He turned to Kaelen and unclipped her restraints. “You’re the bait. He’s a rescuer type. Sees a shaved girl in a shock-collar, he’ll come running. You just have to stay still until the sedative darts kick in.”
Thorne was their finest—and most deranged—harvester. The Breedbus was his mobile clinic. He’d drive through the contaminated zones, scan the feral settlements, and "collect" anyone with a genetic marker above 0.5 on the Viability Index. He told himself he was a shepherd of the species. A necessary monster.
Kaelen said nothing. She’d learned that words were a luxury for people who expected to live past Tuesday.
“Why?” she whispered.
Kaelen stood up, blood trickling from her nose. “I’m not a donor. I’m a broadcast. Thorne didn’t collect me because I’m viable. He collected me because I’m a weapon. A psychic feedback loop. Every Amalgam you’ve ever built is wired to a network. And I’m the kill switch.”
Thorne raised his dart pistol. Vess didn’t flinch. She simply raised her mismatched arm, and from her palm extended a bone-spur slick with black venom.
Breedbus May 2026
“To the source,” he said. “To the lab where the first cloud was made. If we burn that, maybe the human race gets to make its own mistakes again.”
The bus hummed as Thorne killed the engine. He turned to Kaelen and unclipped her restraints. “You’re the bait. He’s a rescuer type. Sees a shaved girl in a shock-collar, he’ll come running. You just have to stay still until the sedative darts kick in.” breedbus
Thorne was their finest—and most deranged—harvester. The Breedbus was his mobile clinic. He’d drive through the contaminated zones, scan the feral settlements, and "collect" anyone with a genetic marker above 0.5 on the Viability Index. He told himself he was a shepherd of the species. A necessary monster. “To the source,” he said
Kaelen said nothing. She’d learned that words were a luxury for people who expected to live past Tuesday. He turned to Kaelen and unclipped her restraints
“Why?” she whispered.
Kaelen stood up, blood trickling from her nose. “I’m not a donor. I’m a broadcast. Thorne didn’t collect me because I’m viable. He collected me because I’m a weapon. A psychic feedback loop. Every Amalgam you’ve ever built is wired to a network. And I’m the kill switch.”
Thorne raised his dart pistol. Vess didn’t flinch. She simply raised her mismatched arm, and from her palm extended a bone-spur slick with black venom.
