The core of this one was positioned slightly higher than the one on the train, right in the center of its “chest.”
It was a dark brown, almost pitch-black, fist-sized mass, with the outer layer of protective leeches wrapped tightly around it.
Found it.
“Billy, cover Rebecca. Stay back.”
Lincoln was already moving forward as he spoke.
Not rushing, but walking.
His steps were steady, neither too fast nor too slow.
He held the M870 at his hip, its muzzle pointed straight at the amalgam’s core.
Ten meters.
The amalgam was moving too.
The leeches at its base began to surge along the concrete surface of the sump, driving its entire body toward Lincoln.
Its speed was about the same as the one on the train—faster than a zombie, but slower than an Eliminator.
Eight meters.
Its right “arm”—a thick appendage formed from hundreds of intertwined leeches—swung up and swept toward Lincoln.
Lincoln didn’t dodge.
He took a large step forward, leaning low to duck right under the sweeping arm.
The arm passed half a meter above his head, bringing with it a gust of fishy stench and the smell of mucus.
Having bypassed the sweep, the distance between him and the amalgam shrank to less than four meters.
At this range, the shotgun’s spread would perfectly cover the core area.
The first shot.
*Boom.*
The buckshot blasted into the protective outer layer of leeches over the core, sending shredded flesh and black bodily fluids flying.
The protective outer structure was torn open, leaving a bowl-sized gap that exposed the second layer.
The amalgam’s body swayed, and its maw let out an even louder gurgle.
Lincoln pumped the forend, ejecting the spent shell and chambering a fresh one.
Its left “arm” rose as well.
This time, instead of sweeping, it came crashing down from above.
Lincoln stepped to the right, a stride just wide enough to let the descending “arm” crash harmlessly onto the concrete floor beside his left foot.
A mass of leeches scattered from the tip of the arm, writhing in all directions across the floor.
He didn’t look down at the scattered leeches.
Utilizing the rotational inertia from his dodge, he stepped forward with his right foot, closing the distance to the amalgam once more.
Two meters.
The M870’s muzzle was almost shoved directly into the gap opened by the first shot.
The second shot.
*Boom.*
The point-blank blast tore deep into the gap, shredding both the second and third layers of protective leeches.
The core was exposed.
A fist-sized lump of dark black tissue pulsed irregularly.
It was exactly the same as the one on the train.
Lincoln pumped the shotgun for the third time.
He aimed the muzzle directly at the exposed core, pressing it right up against the mass.
The third shot.
*Boom.*
This shot was pressed right against the core.
The entire force of the blast was concentrated on a single point.
The pellets tore through the core tissue, blasting the mother leeches into a pulpy paste from the inside out.
Black fragments of tissue erupted from the amalgam’s “back” and splattered against the valve room wall.
The core was shattered.
The effect was identical to the train incident.
In an instant, the two-and-a-half-meter-tall amalgam lost all structural integrity and collapsed.
Deprived of their aggregation commands, the leeches dissolved from their humanoid form into a sprawling heap of scattered worms, splashing down into the sump and onto the floor.
At the same moment, the humming in the pipes cut out.
A silence of two or three seconds followed, and then a very low, brief sigh drifted out from the depths of the pipes.
It sounded like a remote control signal had been lost, and the controller was dissatisfied with the result, though they made no further move.
Then, all went silent.
From the moment it stood up to its collapse, less than fifteen seconds had passed.
Three shotgun shells.
No handgun, no grenades.
The last time he fought a Leech Amalgam, he had used three shotgun shells and four 9mm rounds, taking nearly a minute with plenty of probing and calculation in between.
This time, he knew where the core was, how to peel back the protective layers, and exactly how close he needed to be to pierce it in a single shot.
He had carried over his combat experience directly, wasting not a single bullet nor taking a single unnecessary step.
Lincoln took two steps back, avoiding the leeches writhing across the floor.
His status panel popped up.
[T-Virus Sample Library]
Collection Progress: 39/100
Safety Threshold: 61/100
Leech Amalgam: +5 to Collection Progress, -5 to Safety Threshold.
Compared to a one-on-one with a normal zombie, this thing was worth five times as much.
61.
His margin was shrinking.
He closed the panel and looked back the way they had come.
At the tunnel entrance behind them, the ripples on the water had arrived.
A massive swarm of leeches was surging into the valve room with the current, their black bodies swimming rapidly beneath the water, their front suckers flaring toward the trio.
They had pursued them from the water treatment area.
Their numbers far exceeded the ones that had boiled out of the sump; the entire tunnel entrance was black, with no clean water visible.
Furthermore, upon entering the valve room, they didn’t scatter. This chapter is updated first at g.com.
Instead, they continued advancing toward the trio along the flow of the current, moving in a tight, orderly formation.
Lincoln made a split-second decision.
He turned and ran toward the iron ladder on the side of the valve room.
“Billy, get Rebecca into the maintenance corridor first!”
“What are you doing?!” Billy yelled.
“Shutting off the water.”
Lincoln scrambled up the iron ladder on the sidewall in a few swift strides, reaching the maintenance platform.
The platform was a welded metal grate located about two meters up the sidewall of the valve room, lined with several valve wheels.
He swept his gaze over the labels on the wheels.
Cast next to the largest one was a line of text: “Main Pipe • Northward Drainage • On/Off”.
This main pipe connected to the upstream section of the drainage tunnel and was the primary conduit for the leeches pouring into the valve room.
If he shut this valve, the upstream flow would be cut off, depriving the leeches of their waterborne path forward.
Lincoln gripped the wheel with both hands and turned it with all his might in the closing direction.
The wheel was stiff.
The valve’s sealing surface was rusted, and after turning it half a revolution, it grew increasingly tight.
He gritted his teeth and applied more force.
The strength from his 1.5x physical enhancement proved its worth at this moment.
He managed to crank the wheel two more full turns where an ordinary person would have been stalled.
A metallic groaning echoed from inside the pipe as the valve’s conical plug pressed tight.
The sound of rushing water within the pipe began to fade.
Looking down from the platform, the density of leeches pouring in from the tunnel entrance had noticeably decreased.
Deprived of the current’s assistance, they were forced to switch to crawling, and their speed dropped dramatically.
But they were still crawling forward, just much slower.
Lincoln finished the final turn, locking the valve completely shut.
Though the leeches had slowed, their numbers were still overwhelming.
In a few minutes, they would still reach the entrance of the maintenance corridor.
He quickly scanned the surrounding pipe layout from the platform.
Directly above the maintenance platform ran a cast-iron pipe about forty centimeters in diameter, its wall labeled: “High-Pressure Flush Pipe • Manual Valve”.
Drainage systems required regular high-pressure flushes to clear sediment from the pipe walls; this pipe was designed specifically for that purpose.
The end of the pipe had a downward-pointing nozzle aligned with the sump channel.
Next to it was a small, red manual valve.
Lincoln stepped over and gripped the valve.
He cranked it open.
High-pressure water erupted from the nozzle in a jet as thick as an arm.
The immense impact blasted the water surface of the sump channel, kicking up half-meter-high plumes of spray.
As the jet swept across the sump and the floor, the advancing, writhing leeches were sent tumbling in all directions.
The high-pressure water itself wouldn’t kill the leeches, but it washed them away, preventing them from clinging, aggregating, or maintaining an offensive formation.
More importantly, the high-pressure flush pipe drew from an independent pressurized water tank, which was not on the same loop as the main drainage pipe.
Shutting down the main line did not affect the water supply to the flush pipe.