Strolling among the carnage were a dozen barefoot girls in loose clothing. Oddly, aside from some scars and length of hair, the strange females looked almost identical, an unnatural similarity far beyond that of sisters, or even twins.
“Bitches!” a sec man cried, wielding an ax as he ran at them, swinging his dire weapon. “You did this to us!”
Casually, one of the girls shot him in the throat with a blowpipe. He stopped instantly, then tumbled to the filthy ground, his ax still clenched in a paralyzed fist.
“No, human,” she whispered. “Your race did it to yourselves.”
As the strange females turned a corner, a stickie blindly charged at the two-legs until it got close, then the creature darted away, hooting in terror. Amused, they continued walking, watching the norms and muties battle to the death, then stopped to observe the stickies rip skin off the human and mutie corpses alike to reach the tender organs inside. The feeding was very noisy, almost bestial in manner.
“How disgusting,” a girl sniffed in disdain, stepping over the bodies of the slain. “Look at the mess they’re making!”
“Oh, let them feed,” Silver chuckled, tucking her blowpipe away. “The extra food will nicely fatten the mindless ones for when they go into our cooking pots.”
“No wonder the Maker created us,” she hissed in amusement. “Norms are completely helpless without their weapons.”
“Most, but not all, sister,” Silver corrected, remembering the fight at sea between the two PT boats.
“Some might even be as dangerous as us,” she added grimly.
A forked tongue dangling from lush lips, one of the clones shrugged in response, while another knelt to knife a wounded man trying to crawl under a toppled wheelbarrow. He feebly tried to fight back, and so the chuckling mutie took her time finishing the gory job.
EVENTUALLY a bloodred dawn rose over the Pacific islands, the dim sunlight revealing six bodies sprawled on a distant shore, the only movement coming from the gentle swells cresting over the deathly still forms.