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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Simzy
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Suddenly, my thoughts became numerous.
Why did Leti, Letitia, ask me such a question?
And why, though I had answered in a rush, had I answered in that particular way.
I knew.
That for Camilla and Cassandra, a cure would never come, and the world would never, not even by an inch, get better.
And, that I did not want to see them discouraged and disappointed.
So this was purely because of me. I said it was for them, but in reality, it was my excuse.
I had no confidence in persuading them, nor did I know the reason why I should.
“Is there anyone who lives on, knowing that tomorrow will be worse?”
I heard the sound of a chain.
“Grrrrr…”
A zombie, still wearing a gendarmerie combat uniform, glared at me from the wall of a burnt-out house.
I aimed the Glock pistol. Although it was fitted with a silencer, it was still too loud to just fire indiscriminately, being about as loud as kicking a can hard, but it was enough to take down one zombie.
“Even knowing that there will be no good in the world, should we live? What do you think?”
Though the clothes were torn and matted with clotted blood, the patch of the ‘3rd National Gendarmerie Special Mission Unit’ was still firmly attached to the arm and the chest.
He was a man who must have been quite strong when he was alive. His forearms were as thick as his legs, his legs as thick as his waist, and his waist as thick as his torso.
His hair, which had once been cut short like a stormtrooper’s, now came down to cover his cauliflower ears. His nails were also quite long, so if he scratched you, it felt like the flesh would be deeply gouged.
And in his eyes, madness and hatred were lodged.
“It’s been a week, how come you’re still so ugly?”
“Kyaaaak!”
“Looks are all about self-management, self-management. Don’t just stuff your face.”
The thing leaped up. It rushed at me, growling like a hungry bear.
Clank!
The thing, as if resentful, glared at the iron chain that firmly bound its waist and ankles, and at the utility pole on the other side to which it was securely tied.
Around the utility pole were a great number of eaten zombies.
How did this robust soldier end up tied to a utility pole with an iron chain and abandoned? I didn’t know if he had requested it himself, or if others had forcibly put it on him and left.
The important thing was that he was still strong even in this state.
A zombie tied to a chain. It must have looked like easy prey. Not only zombie dogs and birds, but even human zombies had ambled over.
But this one had beaten them all, and had even eaten and torn them apart instead.
Looking at him, I felt like I understood why the ancient warriors had deliberately carved scars on their bodies and gotten tattoos. The thing’s body was covered in wounds, and not a single part of it was intact.
But the thing was still alive and moving, squirming, and starving.
The Cro-virus that must have been inside the thing’s body had filled the torn scars with reddish flesh, and the broken bones were held together by bizarrely grown tendons and muscles.
A week ago, I had come to throw out the trash and had accidentally run into the thing. The thing was smashing the head of a human zombie that had approached it recklessly, with a hand like a bear’s paw.
Naturally, it didn’t go well. The thing clutched its hand as if in pain and roared. Then, it picked up a thick brick from the side and brought it down.
It was effective.
The startled zombie dropped the brick. It growled as if it couldn’t understand, and then turned its gaze to the zombie it had taken down, as if it didn’t matter.
What kind of creature is this?
I became curious. I hid in a suitable place and watched. The thing, after finishing its meal with a crunching sound, threw the leftovers around with all its might. And it leaned against the utility pole and dozed off.
“Grk.”
Not long after, a human zombie, drawn by the smell of blood and rotting meat, approached. The tied-up zombie was leaning against the utility pole and watching silently, but it did not get up.
Sniff. Sniff.
The new zombie was meticulously chewing on the leftovers. But as it was not satisfied, it approached the tied-up zombie.
Snap.
The one that was tied up bit the neck of the one that had approached, precisely. It sank its teeth in like a dog and shook its head from side to side. And then, it was over.
And I approached the thing. The thing, which had been engrossed in its meal, lifted its blood-red face and glared at me.
“Sorry to interrupt your meal.”
“Grk?”
“You’re really ugly.”
“Kyaaaak!”
The thing flew into a rage and charged. It didn’t seem to have understood my words. It probably just didn’t like being disturbed during its meal.
When something is eating, when it’s having sex, in either case, when its desires are being satisfied and it’s lying around lazily. This is when all living things are at their most vulnerable.
Isn’t that why they say not to even bother a dog when it’s eating? I had deliberately poked at that point. The thing got excited and charged.
Of course, at that time I was on my bicycle, and was slowly backing away, wiggling my middle finger.
Clank.
Thankfully, the iron chain is strong. The utility pole did not budge. I was suddenly reminded of an animal YouTube channel I used to enjoy watching in ‘my world.’
It was a story about a Tosa dog that had been abandoned while tied to an iron chain. A ferocious one that had been abused a lot by people and would bite anyone who came near.
“Try this.”
I took out the compressed sponge cake I had packed for myself. I tore the wrapper and threw half of it to him. Naturally, the thing did not understand. It stared blankly at the food that had fallen in front of it, and then looked at me again.
“This is the most delicious thing in the MRE, and you’re skipping it?”
I ate it, breaking it off little by little in front of the thing. You can eat it. It’s okay to eat. The thing’s expression softened a little. After sniffing and nudging the cake, it finally took a small bite from the corner, like a baby.
And then, it began to gobble it down.
“Gack! Choke!”
“Of course you’ll choke if you eat like that. Here. It’s water.”
Naturally, I had no intention of throwing a water bottle. I soaked a piece of cloth in water and threw the whole thing. It got excited again when the wet cloth flew into its face, but it soon grabbed the cloth and started sucking on it.
We ate cake and drank water, facing each other. Of course, that didn’t mean any kind of bond had formed between the zombie and me. Since the thing growled and barked as if to say, ‘you’re next,’ and I had wiggled my middle finger and coolly retreated.
“See you next week.”
And today.
It wasn’t that I had a long call with Letitia for no reason. I had been watching the thing from the moment I first came. The way it pretended to sleep was also the same.
I kept chattering on the phone and scattered the blankets and clothes with my scent on them here and there. To someone else, it might have just looked like common rags, but to a zombie sensitive to smell, it would probably have a different meaning.
The smell of prey.
The creature, no longer able to endure its hunger, finally moved its massive body. Though tied to a chain, it drooled and glared at me hungrily.
“Will you not eat me if I give you one candy?”
I unwrapped a lemon-flavored candy and kicked it with the tip of my foot. The candy rolled and reached the thing. Sniff, sniff, at the sweet smell, the thing snatched it up and ate it.
Whether the thing ate it or not, I continued with what I had to say.
“Did you know? Strange things are happening around Hampton. Zombies are jumping onto the roads, blocking traffic, and tearing out the people and things inside.
But I don’t know if they’re doing it knowingly, or if it’s a coincidence.”
Crunch. Crunch crunch.
The candy was crushed in the thing’s mouth. I readjusted my grip on the pistol.
“Someone said. That when they first ate a crab, it must have taken great courage. To be honest, it doesn’t look like something you can eat, right?
But in the end, humans found a way to eat it. By peeling off that shell. Maybe there’s a genius among the zombies, who realized that if you tear open that noisy steel box, food comes out.
I don’t think they’re smart. I believe it’s just instinct, and learning.”
Intelligence.
Dogs and cats have intelligence. Though they may not look it, octopuses and dolphins also have intelligence. Dolphins even carry their sick young on their backs and lift them to the surface to breathe.
What is the intelligence of a beast?
Someone defined it as ‘understanding the operating structure of things.’
A cunning cat who knows that if it rings a bell, its owner will give it food, and so it rings the bell at all hours, or a rat that knows that if it steps on a pedal, a pleasant electric shock will be applied, and so it repeats going down and up the pedal until it starves to death.
Then what about something that was once human, but is now on the fringes of humanity?
I had had such thoughts while watching the non-cooperative cooperation of the parrot zombie, the wolf zombies, and the human zombies. If even humans could band together for their own purposes, couldn’t humans and zombies do so as well?
“Remember this smell. This is me. Got it? Have another candy.”
This time I threw a grape-flavored one. It ate it well. Of course, I had no intention of ending it like this. I had to make the thing recognize that I was not just another source of food who threw it food, but a member of its pack.
“Since you’ve eaten, you have to work, right?”
I turned the volume of my phone up to the maximum. I looked through the playlist and chose a good song to play.
The starting sound of a heavy electric guitar.
Ring around the rosie,
Let’s go around the rosie,
A pocket full of posies,
A pocket full of flowers,
Ashes! ashes!
Ashes, ashes!
We all fall down!
We all have fallen!
It wasn’t just a nursery rhyme. Because it was a thrash metal version arrangement. I didn’t know who sang it, but the growling vocals, which sounded like they were scraping a metal plate, the vocal cords, and the singer’s lifespan all at the same time, were excellent.
“Grk! Kyaak!”
“What’s with your face? You don’t like the nursery rhyme?”
No. I was wrong. This friend hadn’t heard a well-sung version yet, had he. So this time I just played the instrumental version.
“Riiing around the rosiiieeee! A pocketful of pooooosieees! Asheeees! Asheeees! Cough, cough!”
Ah, falsetto is hard. I was too old to become a male soprano.
“Gyaaaaaaaaaak!”
No. Come to think of it, I had a real expert in the ‘growling’ speech method right next to me, what was I wasting my energy for.
“You have talent. Hey, again, let’s go again.”
It seemed that thing was reacting to a specific note of mine. If I did it well, I might be able to harmonize. But before that, I had to do the setup first.
“Ah, ah, mic check. Mic check.”
I took out the MP 9 submachine gun and placed it on the windowsill. I also got the electric bicycle ready so I could escape at any time.
Lure them with sound, and kill all but the tied-up one.
By doing so, make the tied-up one recognize that I am not an enemy.
If that’s possible, if I can teach a zombie to distinguish between friend and foe, if I can prove that zombies have that much intelligence.
I can turn the tables.
“You have to do really well on the main stage, okay?”
The zombie audience members are gathering, little by little, from a distance.
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