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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Simzy
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Research facility rooftop.
In the shade of a personal camouflage net, Camilla, with her sniper rifle set up, was watching Johan. Her gaze followed Johan’s back, but her expression was a mix of dissatisfaction and worry.
“He looks a little too excited.”
Johan, on his electric bicycle, was repeating the motion of going from this side of the alley to that side, and back again. Each time, the zombies would follow behind Johan, confused.
When it seemed a certain number of followers had gathered, Johan would quickly get off his bicycle and run into an open building. He would then come out through a back door or a window and slam the door shut.
And then, he repeated the same thing.
“Should I call that bold, or should I call it being flighty.”
Her heart was pounding. If anything went wrong, even by a one-in-a-million chance, Camilla would not hesitate to blow the heads off all the zombies gathered there.
Although she had a silencer attached, a sniper rifle silencer was not in the concept of ‘reducing’ the sound. It was closer to ‘spreading’ it far so that the location could not be specified.
It was quite useful when dealing with people, but when dealing with zombies, it was no different from shouting, ‘I’ve set up a feast, so come and eat.’
‘Worrying is a disease. Let’s not have any unlucky thoughts.’
Camilla picked up the radio.
“How are things over there?”
Instead of an answer, a ragged breath was heard.
“Hhup… hweuk…”
“…You can turn down the mic volume a little.”
“Ooh… sorry. Over here, um, I can see zombies beyond the wheat field. About fifteen… i-is this really okay?”
“It’s fine, Cassandra.”
Camilla couldn’t watch all directions by herself. So she had herself watch Johan’s side, and Cassandra watch the opposite side.
“H-here, it feels too hot here…”
Like Camilla, Cassandra was also wearing a ballistic helmet and was hiding under a personal camouflage net.
The camouflage net was a black vinyl sheet. It blocked the sunlight, but it was terribly hot underneath. On top of that, since there was no wind, her clothes were soaked in sweat, revealing the curves of her body as they were.
“Still, don’t leave your post.”
“O-of course.”
Cassandra raised her voice as if in protest. Camilla held back a smile.
And on the other hand, she was also a little worried.
‘I don’t think Cassandra has been sleeping much lately.’
Camilla had deliberately increased the intensity of Cassandra’s workout. She had thought that way, she would at least get some sleep from exhaustion.
It was a miscalculation.
Cassandra was one of those tough types who, while complaining as much as she could, would somehow get the job done. At least, if she thought it was ‘necessary’ for herself, she was the type of person with the grit to finish it, albeit slowly.
She would do her workout, she would do her research, and yet she couldn’t sleep at all. She was suspicious that perhaps she couldn’t sleep because she was too tired. Just like how excitement doesn’t easily subside after a strenuous workout.
The only time Cassandra’s expression would relax was when she was with Johan.
“Tsk.”
‘Did I just say tsk?’
At her own reaction, Camilla herself was even more surprised. Pulling herself together, Camilla let out a dry cough and focused her attention again.
And, Johan, who was running out of the fifth building, sprained his ankle.
“That idiot!”
Camilla got angry in a small voice. Cassandra, startled, whispered into the radio.
“Why, why? W-what’s wrong?”
“That idiot sprained his ankle!”
An unexpected situation. Camilla was about to aim her sniper rifle, but she put it back down. The Johan she knew was not an idiot. He probably wouldn’t be taken down by a group of zombies of that size.
“Cassandra, keep a good watch on your side! If anything happens, radio me right away!”
Camilla put down her sniper rifle. Instead, she picked up the submachine gun she had prepared on the floor.
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“Ugh!”
Was I too excited? My right ankle got twisted. Of all places, there had been a pebble where I had stepped.
The fact that it was twisted was a problem, but in that state, I had walked a couple more steps forward. Because it was better to have a slightly sprained ligament than to fall in front of the zombies.
“Gaaah!”
The distance to the electric bicycle was about 30m. I had to get closer somehow. I hobbled along and took out my 1911 pistol. I aimed at the ankle of the one coming in the very front and shot.
Pew.
The low noise was good, but I had missed it. Pew. Pew. This time I pierced the top of its foot. The thing that had lost its balance stumbled like me and fell.
The things following behind just stepped on its back and approached me.
“I’m a little disappointed.”
They didn’t recognize it as food even though it was bleeding. Had they already filled their stomachs somewhere? Or had they prioritized getting rid of me over filling their stomachs?
I would know if I opened their heads. This time I aimed at the head of the zombie that was coming closest and shot. Two more shots. Thwack, and the head shattered.
The one that had been shot stood stupidly and then fell to its knees. And then, it crawled again. On its knees. Was it a thing that had been so deeply consumed that it could move around even with its head shattered?
“I hate it when you’re so clingy!”
I shot and blew away the knees of the things coming from both sides. Using the blood-soaked axe as a cane, I hobbled toward the bicycle.
And in front of the bicycle, a single zombie that had come around the corner was standing. It had a familiar blanket draped over its body. The blanket that I had thrown out a long time ago, full of my scent.
At some point, my clothes had become damp. Covered in sweat and filth, the scent remover had become meaningless. Sniff sniff. The thing sniffed the blanket and then sniffed in my direction.
No way? A faint, something like an expectation, arose.
“That’s right. It’s me. It’s me. You don’t recognize me?”
It would have been better not to have raised the axe. The smell of the dripping blood stimulated the thing. Grrr, the thing bared its teeth and ran at me with its hands outstretched.
Tatat.
The zombie collapsed, spraying blood. A destructive power that couldn’t be compared to being shot with a .22 caliber pistol. Tatat. Tatatat. The zombies in the back also collapsed under the rain of bullets.
“Johan, behind you!”
Camilla shouted. The creature that had been coming on its knees, with its head blown off, suddenly leaped at me like a dog. I hit it from below with the axe and finished it off with the pistol.
“Keuk.”
The zombie had finally collapsed on me. Its dirty nails scratched my rider’s pants. The weak part of the pants tore. I was lightly scratched.
“Are you not going to get a grip!”
Camilla brought the electric bicycle. Her face hardened when she saw my wound. But she soon quickly replaced the magazine and patted my back.
“Go back quickly, hurry! I’ll follow behind!”
She was right.
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Cassandra didn’t seem very surprised. Instead, she moved quickly with a hardened face.
She laid a vinyl sheet and a blanket on the bed, laid me down, and quickly disinfected the wound. She had even prepared a change of clothes at some point.
“Thanks for coming.”
Camilla was crossing her arms, and it seemed like her eyes were even welling up a little.
It was a bit embarrassing to say, ‘it’s just a scratch.’ In a normal situation, my life would have been over with just this one hit.
Camilla let out a deep sigh and then asked Cassandra.
“How is it?”
“Wait a bit.”
Her usual dazed attitude was gone, and now she was so sharp that even Camilla flinched a little.
She brought a syringe, drew a little blood from my arm, put it in a machine, and spun it around.
She looked at the result under a microscope, looked over the analysis results on her laptop, and then carefully examined my ankle and applied ointment.
“Your ankle is fine for now, but it’s better not to move for a day or two. And the wound is infected.”
My heart sank. Camilla collapsed onto the floor. No, but didn’t she say we were already infected?
“Thankfully, the Cro-virus in Johan’s body is stronger, so it’s fighting off the foreign Cro-virus along with the body’s white blood cells. It seems to be going smoothly for now, but we’ll have to see how it progresses.”
Camilla shot up. As if she had made a big decision, she stood in front of my bed.
“Cassandra.”
“Yeah, Camilla.”
“It’s okay to hit him once, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Give me your wrist. No, the other one! She drew blood from this one!”
“Ah! Ah! Ow ow ow!”
I was hit three times, and it hurt so much it felt like my wrist would be cut off.
And then she left with the terrifying words, “I’ll go make some porridge, so don’t move a muscle!” and went out.
She’s cooking herself, so she must be really angry.
“Uh… am I going to become a zombie that’s lost its mind?”
“I don’t think so. It’ll be a bit painful, though. More importantly, why were you standing there so foolishly?”
“…You saw?”
“I saw.”
A strange woman. Cassandra’s gaze was cold.
Sometimes she was so out of it that I would wonder, ‘what’s with this girl,’ and at other times she was as sharp and glinting as a scalpel. And at night… no. That wasn’t certain.
“There was a zombie standing in front of the bicycle, and it was wearing the blanket I had thrown out. That blanket, full of my scent. It kept sniffing, and it seemed to recognize me, so I waited.”
“What happened?”
Cassandra came forward, swoosh. Her large breasts bounced. Her scent wafted out, as if pulling me in. Come to think of it, she must have been on the hot rooftop and had come down in a hurry, wearing only a gown.
“It was a bit ambiguous. It did hesitate for a moment…”
“…Don’t do anything too dangerous next time. Don’t sleep in your room today, sleep here in the recovery room. You can see inside well from the window, so it’ll be easy to notice if anything happens. First, an antibiotic sho—”
Her eyes seemed to glint again. But there was no time to ask anything. Camilla came in, kicking the door open. Holding a tray with a bowl on it.
“…Let’s do it after he eats.”
Cassandra’s words were almost inaudible.
“Eat up! You bad boy. I cooled it down so you won’t burn your tongue. Really, tsk.”
It was a porridge that looked surprisingly normal. I touched the bowl and it was slightly hot.
“Hmph, I know how to pour oatmeal into water and boil it. It wasn’t any different from making coffee.”
Why does she have to say it like it’s the first time she’s ever cooked? I felt a little suspicious, but anyway, I took a bite, blowing on it.
It was subtly thick and sweet. The kind of gritty texture and subtle sweetness you would get from licking a mochi with your tongue.
Is this what they mean? That a person who has suffered a lot will find even grains sweet. But for that, it was too sweet.
Another bite. A little sweeter than before.
“It’s not inedible, right?”
“Uh, no. It’s delicious. But…”
“But what.”
“Did you happen to season it?”
At my question, Camilla blinked her eyes.
“Of course I did. What’s the point of eating oatmeal boiled in water? I sprinkled a little salt.”
“…It’s delicious. Thanks.”
So Camilla had mistaken the sugar for salt. Still, it was a thankful thing that she hadn’t burned it. And you do sometimes put sugar in oatmeal.
“Rest. Cassandra and I will stand guard.”
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In the middle of the night.
“Mmm.”
Perhaps because the 3rd-floor recovery room was dry, a cough came out. It was probably also because the bed was unfamiliar since it wasn’t my usual room.
“Water.”
Thankfully, someone held out a water bottle. I drank it without much thought and then blankly looked at Cassandra.
“You didn’t sleep?”
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