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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Zaped
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The “Hive” consisted of a 20-story hotel and six 15-story apartment buildings surrounding it.
The seven buildings were separate yet connected, thanks to skybridges linking the hotel and the apartments.
The bridges were poorly constructed, made of metal plates, scaffolding, and wooden planks, giving them a ramshackle appearance.
Without people or cargo passing over them, the bridges swayed in the wind, and although they had handrails of sorts, no one seemed to use them.
“That looks dangerous,” I remarked.
Camilla shrugged.
“It’s better than walking the streets and risking an encounter with a zombie dog, rat, or cat. The bridges are a safer option.”
The other tall buildings in Hampton were similar.
Lower floors used rope and wood for construction, while the upper floors were reinforced with metal plates, pipes, and H-beams.
But the Hive was different.
Both its lower and upper levels were equally well-built.
Though everything swayed in the wind, it was certainly safer than planks thrown over a net.
“Why’s that? Is it because the wind hits harder on the upper floors, so they needed stronger materials?”
“No. It’s because the upper floors house the rich. The lower floors are for the poor, while the rich live higher up where the chance of encountering zombies is lower. But even those people can’t compare to the ones over there.”
Camilla pointed beyond the city skyline, but the view was obscured by other tall buildings.
“There’s another wall over there, both aboveground and underground. They have separate electrical and water systems, and soldiers guard the area 24/7. Apparently, that was the original Hampton.”
“And this?”
“This is still Hampton. It used to be a major city in southern Elza. Before the zombie crisis, about half a million people lived here. After the Human Protection Zone was declared, people forcibly relocated from unprotected areas flocked here, and now the estimated population is between 700,000 and 800,000.”
The sight was unrecognizable compared to what I remembered.
I’d already come to terms with the fact that I’d landed in a timeline before the world fell apart, so I often struggled when familiar locations looked vastly different.
But Hampton was completely different.
The Hampton I remembered was a wasteland.
Buildings were reduced to rubble from bombing.
Zombies lurked, ready to bite at exposed ankles.
Gangs sniped at players ambushed by zombies, and rival players lay in wait near escape routes to deliver the final blow—a hellscape of horrors.
But this Hampton was a functioning city.
Buildings stood intact, electricity and water flowed, and even though the services weren’t available 24/7, there was still light and running toilets.
Fortunately, Camilla was well-versed in city life.
The Liberation Fighters’ main activity revolved around the Human Protection Zones—the villages and cities.
They only ventured into unprotected zones when absolutely necessary.
Camilla, in particular, specialized in disruption, intelligence gathering, and building communication networks rather than combat.
She knew all about forging identities, disguises, deception, and trickery.
“There are other black markets besides the Hive. Hampton’s a big city. But there’s no place quite like the Hive.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because the Hive has order. A crime syndicate governs it. They’re called the Syndicate—a violent gang in cahoots with the Elza government. They’re filthy scum who do the dirty work the National Gendarmerie won’t, but at least they maintain order as they commit their atrocities.”
“Ha. What are the others like, then?”
“They commit atrocities just for the sake of it.”
To summarize, the Hive was a massive hotel complex and a giant traditional marketplace in Hampton.
True to its urban nature, the Hive had electricity, gas, and water running throughout.
Additionally, it boasted a closed communication network and a trade bulletin board.
Vendors would rent hotel rooms and post listings like, “Room X at Building Y has such-and-such items.”
Buyers interested in their goods would knock on their door to haggle.
To deter theft, all visitors to the Hive were allowed to carry and use firearms.
Whether someone ended up with a bullet hole in their head or immediately gunned down their buyer upon entry was up to them. However, if any damage occurred to the buildings, Syndicate members would step in and ensure “everything was restored to its original state.”
It wasn’t just traveling merchants who used the Hive.
It also served as affordable housing for outsiders like us, homeless people, and poor folks hoping to make it big in Hampton.
Since we’d be staying here for a few days while conducting some barter trades, we needed to register both for lodging and as vendors.
“But how will we know what’s broken?”
“…We’ll find out when we get there.”
Following Camilla, I stepped into the central hotel lobby.
The entrances to the other apartment buildings were sealed, only to be opened in emergencies.
The hotel lobby resembled a massive PC cafe.
Rows of computers and monitors were laid out in an open space, and people sat tapping away at keyboards and mice. The only difference was the gun racks on the desks.
“What are they doing?”
“Those? They’re probably Hampton citizens browsing the marketplace for items they need before heading back.”
The presence of gun racks made it clear that Hampton’s residents were also armed.
However, they stored their rifles in cases, carrying only pistols openly.
“The Elza government is amazing, really. They abandoned their duty to protect citizens from zombies but granted them the freedom and right to protect themselves. No wonder people call this survival of the fittest.”
“Adapt or die?”
“That’s the original meaning, but here it’s more like, ‘The longer you survive, the more losses you take.’ Taxes, utility bills, and even the cost of bullets—how does anyone live?”
The counter was split into two sections: the left for those using only the marketplace and the right for those needing lodging.
“Welcome to the Continental Hotel,” a hip-looking, chubby man greeted us warmly.
Two AK-47s lay on his desk.
A notice that read, “Please treat the staff with respect. They are someone’s beloved family. Or not.” stood out prominently.
“Are you familiar with our rules?” the man asked, handing us some forms.
“We are,” Camilla answered, filling out my form as well.
“How long will you be staying?”
“Two to three days. Let’s say three for now.”
“Will you be paying for your stay or staying for free?”
“We’ll pay.”
Though free sounded better to me, Camilla didn’t hesitate to say she’d pay.
There had to be a reason.
“Will you be using the marketplace? If so, are you buying, selling, or both?”
“We’ll use it, for both. One room, with two single beds.”
The man nodded, handing us a key, a printout titled “Continental Hotel Usage Guidelines,” and a laptop.
The Wi-Fi password for the internal network was written in bold letters.
“One last question. Each room has CCTV installed. Since you’re paying, the cameras will remain off, but for your safety, they may be activated without prior notice. Do you agree to this condition?”
I was about to object, but Camilla discreetly gestured for me to let her handle it.
“We agree,” she said.
“Then enjoy your stay. You can pick up a cart on the left.”
The man’s gold tooth gleamed as he smiled.
I loaded our luggage onto the cart and pushed it along. It rolled smoothly thanks to the well-oiled wheels. Our room was 306 in Building 2, requiring us to cross two bridges.
The bridges were surprisingly sturdy. They swayed and creaked slightly, but they held.
“Why did you say we would pay?” I asked Camilla.
She blushed. The reason became apparent as soon as we entered Building 2.
“Ah! Ah! More, more! Ah! Damn it!”
“Down, down, you bastard!”
“Damn it!”
The building was a cacophony of sounds. The apartments were not soundproof at all. Even the cheapest hostels I had stayed in offered better sound insulation.
“Down, down, you son of a bitch, down!”
“Shut up!”
The sound of a video game, followed by a gunshot: “Bang! Bang! You’re dead!”
At the end of the hallway, a bell rang. Camilla quickly gestured for me to step aside. Two men in hazmat suits pushed a cart past us. Two bodies lay on the cart.
“Not zombies. Don’t worry. Not zombies…”
“…What the hell is going on?”
Camilla smirked darkly.
“City life.”
We pushed the cart to our room and entered. After entering, we immediately changed the room’s access code.
The manual stated that while there was a master access code, we could change the room’s individual code freely, as long as we remembered it.
The room was the size of a small apartment, with a living room, two bedrooms, and a bathroom. The living room contained a sofa and a table, but there were old bloodstains on the table legs.
The main problem was the noise.
“Ah… Ah… More, more! Ah… Damn it…”
“Bang! Bang! Thud.”
“The Elza government, acknowledging its failure to eradicate the zombie threat, has announced a complete cabinet reshuffle. The current Prime Minister and ministers will serve indefinitely…”
There was absolutely no soundproofing. The sounds of the television, the clash of bodies, the shouts of gamblers, and the haggling of merchants permeated the air.
“This isn’t a place for people to live,” I remarked.
“That’s why it’s a mess,” Camilla replied, slumping onto the bed. She turned her back to the television and began to loosen her clothes.
“CCTV cameras are installed everywhere,” she said. “That television is essentially a giant camera. Since I paid for the room, they should be deactivated now.”
“What happens if you don’t pay?” I asked.
Camilla shook her head.
“This is a black market, a place for those who have nothing. People who have nothing but their bodies. But there’s always a market for someone’s body.
“That’s why they engage in sexual activity in front of those countless cameras. The desk staff records it and sells the footage. The sound might be muted, but the camera angles capture everything. Highly stimulating edits are possible.”
“Why would they do that?”
“To survive.”
Camilla’s voice was somber.
“They earn a little money by filming amateur pornography, volunteer for cleaning duties despite the risk of zombie infection, and scrape by, hoping to find a small room to rent.
“That’s their small desire – to survive in a city, even if it means living in a place like this. It’s better than ending up as zombie food on the streets.
“But things have only gotten worse. The forced relocation from the non-protected zones has driven up housing prices, and the supply of essential goods has dwindled. So, people are starting to get angry. But they all have guns, so they hold back their anger.
“Hans, the leader of the Central Front, wanted to exploit that anger. He knew this city was a powder keg. If it exploded, the city would be destroyed, not by zombies, but by the people themselves. That’s why I’m glad he didn’t succeed.
“It’s all thanks to you, Johan. You saved these people by not listening to Hans.”
Camilla’s eyes sparkled with an intensity that made me hesitant to express my opinion that Hamton might have been better off as a pile of ashes.
Everything—TV, sex noises, arguments—blared through the thin walls.
I opened the laptop. The login screen displayed a stylized image of a snarling wolf. The password was already filled in: “HiveMind.”
The interface was surprisingly user-friendly. It resembled a social media platform, with profiles, forums, and even a marketplace where goods and services were listed. I browsed through the listings, amazed at the sheer variety of items being offered: weapons, ammunition, medicine, food, even exotic pets like domesticated ferrets.
Suddenly, a notification popped up. “Urgent Message: Warning: Outbreak of ‘The Rot’ in Sector 7. Residents advised to remain indoors and avoid contact with infected individuals.”
“The Rot?” I asked, frowning.
“A new strain of the zombie virus,” Camilla explained. “It’s highly contagious and causes rapid decomposition.”
I checked the news feed. Images and videos were flooding in, depicting scenes of chaos and horror. People were collapsing in the streets, their bodies rapidly deteriorating into grotesque, oozing masses.
“We need to leave,” I said, a sense of urgency gripping me. “This place is about to explode.”
Camilla, however, remained calm. “Don’t worry,” she said, “The Syndicate will take care of it. They’ll quarantine the affected area and dispose of the infected. They have to maintain order, after all.”
I wasn’t convinced. The fear in the messages was palpable. People were panicking, hoarding supplies, and preparing for the worst.
“We should at least try to find out more,” I insisted. “Maybe we can help.”
Camilla hesitated, then nodded. “Alright, but we need to be careful. We don’t want to get caught in the crossfire.”
We spent the next few hours gathering information. We scoured the news feed, monitoring the situation in Sector 7. We contacted our contacts in the Liberation Army, trying to gather intelligence on the ground.
The situation was deteriorating rapidly. The Syndicate, overwhelmed by the outbreak, was struggling to contain the infection. Martial law had been declared in Sector 7, and rumors were circulating about widespread looting and violence.
As the day wore on, the noise within The Hive grew louder. The cries of the infected, the screams of the terrified, the sound of gunfire echoing through the corridors – it was a cacophony of fear and despair.
We barricaded our door with furniture and prepared for the worst. We had enough food and water to last for a few days, but we knew that wouldn’t be enough if the situation escalated further.
As we huddled together in the darkness, listening to the growing chaos outside, I couldn’t help but think about the fragility of life in this shattered world. The Hive, a refuge from the zombie apocalypse, was now facing a new threat, a threat that originated from within.
And we, two strangers thrown together by fate, were trapped in the middle of it all.
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