Ever since it’d started raining blobs from the sky, Erik had gone out and collected them for sampling. He was a scientist. It was what he did. It wasn’t the sketchiest thing he’d been doing either. Sampling blobs were a little more innocuous than cutting open zombie corpses. It wasn’t the best hobby. Actually, it couldn’t even be called a hobby. It was just something he needed to do. Somebody had to correct the screw up.
Testing the flammability of the blob wasn’t as quintessential as breaking down its very components and attempting to adapt it into the process of a cure. But, after examining them for a couple of days, Erik decided it would be a far better usage of his time to see if he could utilize them as weaponry or fuel. And, if not either of those things, find the best and most harmless means of destroying them. They were an inconvenience to people and he had made a promise.
The blobs were clearly flammable, that he knew. Their level of combustion rose with thickness. The bigger the blob; the more explosive it was. Fire could destroy them, but it must be handled with care. A little flame wouldn’t be able to do the job. It needed to be big, but it also resulted in more volatile reactions. Explosives, on the other hand, were able to wipe them clean. But that was just a waste of resources. As he watched the demolition of the next blob, Erik jotted down a couple of notes on the pad he’d brought with him. His gaze lifted off the paper to the man beside him.
Bishop was his name. Hellhound. Fellow explosives enthusiast. He didn’t know him well, but his gut told him the guy wasn’t bad. They had a mutual understanding not to pry into each other’s business and he could appreciate it. Erik wasn’t interested in the shelters or the raiders. Their affairs weren’t his concern. His priority was finding a cure for the virus. As long as nobody started digging around on his turf, then he had nothing to complain about. He’d even go out and do a little socializing every now and then. “Are any of you immune?” His eyes flickered between Bishop and the two Prospects he had brought with him. “If you are,” he made a sweeping gesture with his arm, “feel free to test the theory out.” It wasn’t an actual theory. He had figured out it couldn’t go airborne a while back. The gas masks were simply a safety precaution against splatter.
“Blobs are not fire resistant. Best method of destruction is flame temperature of at least 1200°C, but susceptible to low-speed deflagration. Must be done in open area with care.” Retrieving his bag, Erik pulled out three tubes of dynamites. “Now, we get to the fun part.” He handed one of them over to Bishop as he explained, “I’ve replaced a large portion of nitroglycerin with the blob in three varying levels. We’ll call them Low, Medium, and High, for a lack of creativity. All we have to do is ignite and test the results.” Holding up a lighter, he raised a brow at him before offering, “Care to do the honors with the first one?”