C2 Pandora

"They" consumed human flesh, using teeth and tongues, devouring their prey alive like wild beasts. Yet, they were neither beasts nor the zombies of science fiction films. They were humans who had suffered exposure to nuclear radiation or contamination, or more precisely, humans who had undergone some form of unknown nuclear mutation. Under normal circumstances of radiation or contamination, they should have perished, not undergone such horrifying transformations.

The stark difference between them and zombies was that they retained human consciousness and thought. Nevertheless, they preyed on humans, consuming them raw as zombies do. This mirrored the atrocities that have recurred throughout human history during wars and upheavals: one class purging another, one race exterminating another.

Had humanity plunged into a third world war? He didn't know. All he knew was that the calamity that had befallen his city was akin to the devastation of a global conflict.

The city was once a picturesque coastal town steeped in history, but now its beauty lived on only in his memories, having been relegated to the past. What lay before him was a landscape of devastation, strewn with soulless husks wandering amidst the rubble.

This cursed reality had unfolded three years prior, in the wake of that damned nuclear explosion. Perhaps the true origin was the Nuclear Renewable Energy Base, which, after much controversy, had been established in his hometown. It wasn't the daunting nuclear power plant many feared, but rather, it bore a name that was pleasing to the ear. In plain terms, it was a facility for processing nuclear waste.

The Base represented a groundbreaking development, offering a new solution for the millions of tons of nuclear waste generated by the vigorous expansion of nuclear energy. Nuclear waste, once considered the foremost environmental threat, could contaminate the environment for tens of thousands, even hundreds of thousands of years, with virtually no remedy.

The only recourse was to entomb it in stone or steel sarcophagi, but these were not permanent solutions; they required regular maintenance. One could only imagine a future where humanity lived in the shadow of these sarcophagi scattered across the globe, for tens or hundreds of thousands of years. The question was, would humanity still exist by then?

Moreover, the costs associated with the long-term management of nuclear waste were staggeringly high. While the financial aspect was the least of concerns, these sarcophagi were akin to ticking nuclear time bombs. Any leakage would spell disaster.

Thus, ever since nuclear energy—the Pandora's Box of modern times—was unleashed, the call to banish this demon has been relentless.

Nuclear regenerative energy technology appeared to offer a glimmer of hope for the utilization of nuclear power, turning nuclear waste into radioactive black diamonds that could be used to create diamond batteries. These batteries, free of radiation, had the potential to generate electricity for thousands of years, as long as the span of human civilization itself.

It was a win-win situation, addressing two of humanity's greatest challenges: nuclear waste and the energy crisis.

Securing one of the world's mere three Nuclear Renewable Energy Bases was no small feat for his hometown, and it was a source of immense pride to be counted among such an elite group.

Yet, this might have been another Pandora's box unleashed by mankind.

He remembered that day vividly.

While managing his online cat store from home, he was in the midst of resolving a dispute with an unhappy customer when a sudden rumble, like distant thunder, shook the window. This was quickly followed by a power and internet outage, with furniture rattling and the entire building quivering.

His first instinct was an earthquake, but his immediate concern was for his son's safety at kindergarten.

Without a second thought, he dashed down the stairs. As he emerged from the building, a colossal mushroom cloud billowed up from the northeast, shrouding half the sky in darkness.

This was no earthquake; it was a catastrophe far worse.

In a near frenzy, he drove to the kindergarten, joining other equally panicked parents. Amidst the piercing wail of alarms, blaring car horns, and the cries of children, he located his son and, with him in tow, fled the scene at breakneck speed.

The congested roads, the sea of vehicles and people, and the stark terror etched on every face remained etched in his memory.

To this day, he remained in the dark about the exact events of that day, certain only of the nuclear explosion that had occurred.

Some speculated that a major accident had taken place at the Nuclear Renewable Energy Base. Others whispered of terrorist attacks on the facility. And there were those who feared the outbreak of a third world war.

The one certainty was that humanity had unleashed a monster.

From beneath the car, he watched as these behemoths, these minions of the demon, receded into the distance.

Father and son crawled out, unconcerned with the dust coating their clothes; they were bound to get dirty eventually.

The day's earlier fright only steeled his resolve to become an Excavator. The presence of "them" meant other Excavators seldom ventured near, and he had a hunch that today's haul might be particularly rewarding.

He lifted the compact binoculars to his eyes and scanned the area meticulously, selecting an enclosed neighborhood with a clear field of view. This strategic choice would facilitate a swift retreat if necessary.

Three years of living as an Excavator had taught him to always prepare for the worst and secure an escape route before taking any action.

Father and son walked shoulder to shoulder, alert and cautious as they neared the entrance of the neighborhood.

It was a medium-sized residential community, home to hundreds of families, yet there were no traces of survivors. The layers of dust coating the ground were a clear testament to its abandonment.

In such a neighborhood, even if it had seen few Excavators, it was hardly untouched, virgin territory. The shattered windows were evidence enough, and he could only hope that some opportunities had been overlooked.

Ten minutes later, they stood on the steps of a small apartment building, under a sky so overcast it cast a predatory gloom over the entrance, as if the building itself were a beast ready to consume those who dared enter.

The boy instinctively sought refuge behind his father, remaining silent, displaying a level of composure that belied his youth.

He took great pride in the training he had given his son; wherever he went to excavate, he brought the boy along. On one hand, he couldn't bear the thought of leaving him alone at home, vulnerable to the intrusion of other survivors.

Moreover, should anything happen to him while he was away, his son, left to fend for himself, wouldn't last a week.

Thus, he never allowed his son out of his sight, not even for a minute. In the face of the worst-case scenario, he wanted to be there with his son, to face whatever came their way, together.

Additionally, by sharing the excavation lifestyle, he imparted to his son the harsh realities of survival, ensuring that when the time came for the boy to stand on his own, he'd have a better chance at a longer life.

It was about survival, not merely living; about enduring longer, not necessarily better.

In a world where tomorrow was never guaranteed, this was a father's greatest hope for his son.