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The afternoon sunlight stretched long across the gray-green spore clouds. Though midday was usually when the Slime Mold was least active, that rule reversed itself at the turn of winter to spring.
Even with the restraint of sunlight, the warmer temperature awakened life in the creatures that had been stiff with cold. Gray vapor curled steadily from their mouths and noses.
Perhaps because no prey had appeared yet, they made no further movement. They simply stood silently amid the scarred ruins of the streets as they faced the direction where living breath was strongest with blank stares.
It was like they were waiting for something.
New Alliance soldiers were watching them, too. Light and heavy machine guns braced on window sills.
The best time had not come.
They were also waiting, waiting for the Mutant Slime Mold to crowd into the open streets, so that they could call down artillery to shred them apart and then mow down the remnants with machine-gun...
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