Ch.115Chapter 16. Dispersion (1) – Part 2 Begins

# 16. Dispersion

At a supermarket far to the west of the laboratory, a zombie was sprawled out, fast asleep.

It even snored with a droning sound, looking quite comfortable. Was it muscle memory that made it rest its hands on its belly and stretch out with a yawn?

“Of course it had to fall asleep right at the entrance.”

And inside the large glass revolving door, no less. I wonder what kind of nuisance this person was in life to be lounging like this even as a zombie.

“Won’t it wake up?”

I pushed the revolving door, repeatedly bumping the zombie’s head and feet. Yet it still wouldn’t wake up. Come to think of it, didn’t they say zombies generally have dulled senses?

I didn’t want to shoot it with my gun because the shattering glass would make a terribly loud noise, and I couldn’t strike it with my knife-tipped spear or axe because the glass door was in the way.

The windows?

No, that wouldn’t work. They had sturdy security bars attached, making it impossible to break through. The side and rear doors marked “Staff Only” couldn’t be opened without keys. So for customers like me, there was no entrance except the main door.

The last resort would be to cause a commotion.

I could make enough noise to wake even a sleeping zombie. But then I’d have to give up on shopping today, as zombies would come swarming from all directions.

“To hell with it.”

But making a scene doesn’t necessarily require noise.

I went back to my pickup truck. First, I ate a chocolate bar and drank some water. Then I grabbed the canned tomato spaghetti and solid fuel I’d brought for today’s lunch. I lit the fuel near the revolving door and placed the opened can on top.

While all Cybele Company food tastes like “eat this if you don’t want to die,” this particular canned food was downright bizarre. How tomato paste could taste like underripe eggplant was beyond my comprehension.

“Grrrk!”

Look at that—a smell potent enough to wake even a sleeping zombie. Still groggy, it kept sniffing, trying to locate the source of the smell. Then it spotted the bubbling can.

With a clatter, the revolving door turned and the zombie came outside. It examined the boiling can from various angles. Then, thump. It kicked the can over with its foot.

“You’re knocking over food?”

I quickly grabbed some stones and threw them. One missed and hit the supermarket wall, but the other struck the zombie’s body.

Surprisingly, the zombie didn’t look in my direction. Instead, it seemed more interested in the stone that had bounced off its body.

Since provocation wasn’t working, I had no choice but to approach it myself.

The zombie was now fiddling with the tomato sauce and noodle strands covering the solid fuel. I approached with determined strides, axe in hand. Hearing my footsteps, it looked up and growled at me.

It stood up abruptly and reached out toward me with both hands. I stepped back and swung my axe diagonally downward. I had no intention of getting splattered with blood.

The axe sliced through the zombie’s upper body and lodged in its left thigh. It twitched. I smoothly pulled the axe out and brought it down hard on its right thigh. The zombie lost balance and fell forward. I aimed for its nape and struck lightly.

Its head came off. Though it was a zombie’s face, it looked strangely peaceful. As if it might continue the dream it had been having earlier.

I opened the supermarket door and went inside.

This was my fifth visit. I’d already cleared out many shelves and about half the warehouse stock since my first visit.

If Camilla, Cassandra, and I used both vehicles, we could probably transport everything to our base in 3-4 days, but we decided against that.

It was to distribute the risk.

This area has a relatively low concentration of Limos, the hunger-inducing virus. We feel chronic hunger, but not the “I’ll die if I don’t eat something right now” kind.

Rather, it’s more like “I’m hungry, so I should find something to eat”—just enough to stimulate movement. In this environment, not only zombies but also people move quite actively.

The problem is that it’s difficult to determine whether there are actually people around here. That’s why I deliberately left supplies in the supermarket.

“Why bother? If you’re going to take it eventually, wouldn’t it be better to just take everything at once?”

Cassandra questioned, but Camilla understood my reasoning.

“It’s a kind of trap. If there are fewer items in the supermarket than last time, it means someone living nearby took them. If everything’s the same, there’s a high possibility no one’s around.”

She’s right.

Anyone who has survived in an unprotected zone would be quite resourceful. They would naturally find a map and come to the supermarket to gather supplies.

Conversely, if the supermarket inventory has significantly decreased since my last visit, it means there are people nearby. If that’s the case, I should quietly withdraw and stay away.

It’s not because I lack confidence. I just don’t want to reveal my existence through unnecessary contact.

In a situation where there are no allies or enemies—where everyone is everyone’s enemy—the first person to shoot is the one who dies.

When you shoot, there’s noise, and your position can be estimated. Then trackers swarm to catch you. Your position is already exposed, but the trackers’ aren’t.

The shooter can only vaguely guess that trackers are coming, but doesn’t know when or where they’ll attack.

No matter how advantageous your defensive position is, the very situation of having to “face” an enemy whose arrival time is unknown means you’re already at a disadvantage.

That said, nothing unusual has happened yet.

I take out my phone and compare the shelf photos I took last time. If there’s nothing unusual, I move on; if items have been taken, I take a new photo. Almost everything looks the same as when I last visited.

“Eep!”

Suddenly, a photo of Letty pops up.

She’s not exactly naked, but it’s still a bit embarrassing. She’s wearing a pretty outfit and has the tip of a peeled banana in her mouth. Her cheeks are hollowed as if she’s sucking rather than chewing it. And her lips are glistening, as if she’s applied fresh tint.

“Caesar, what did you have for breakfast? I only had a banana ㅠㅠ I’ve gained so much weight lately… I think I need to buy new underwear”

I saved the photo for a somewhat different reason.

– “Letty, where on earth did you get a banana?”

In response, she sent a photo of herself taking a bite of the banana.

“My older brother in Römer sent me a special food exchange coupon! With this, I can go to the premium grocery store at City Hall. They have fresh vegetables and even eggs because they keep the generator running! The reagents are being delivered, so when they arrive, let’s go shopping together. We need to make Charlotte cake^^”

I didn’t feel childish jealousy like “some of us are stuck eating canned food here.” Rather, it felt strange. Hampton, where I went last time, was definitely not in a situation where “fresh produce” was being traded.

Moreover, according to increasingly slow internet news, major roads are becoming more and more blocked. Because of zombies.

Drivers turning into zombies while driving have caused minor and major accidents, paralyzing the roads. When this happens on buses or vehicles transporting refugees or criminals, zombie hordes end up occupying the roads.

Zombies live among the broken heaps of metal, and when they see vehicles approaching, they attack en masse, devouring people and rummaging through cargo holds for edibles.

Of course, this doesn’t mean zombies systematically sort items like humans do. They rummage through things like they would corpses, take a bite to test, eat what’s edible, and spit out what’s not.

In the process, many zombies die from eating things they shouldn’t, but most survive.

Above all, most major roads now are not human “unprotected” zones but human “protected” zones. This means the concentration of the hunger virus is either zero or negligibly thin.

Hungry ones are actually easier to deal with. You can lure them with food and shoot them all. But zombies not suffering from hunger are, perhaps due to frustration, violent, aggressive, and even cunning.

And yet, in this situation, a store selling “fresh food” has appeared in Hampton, the largest city in the south-central region? It doesn’t add up.

Something is happening.

Once again, an uneasy sensation runs down my spine. I keep recalling the image of this land, nothing but ruins. Ash and dust.

This region, in particular, was thoroughly destroyed. Some users said it was left that way because content updates were incomplete, but if that were the case, why go through the trouble of meticulously destroying it instead of just leaving it as grassland or wasteland?

I should have a serious talk with Camilla and Cassandra. But first, I need to gather necessary items and finish the comparison work.

Hygiene products section. I’ve collected soap, shampoo and conditioner, toilet paper, other hygiene products, and… and…?

They’re gone. Five bottles of scent remover used by hunters, which doubles as shampoo and body cleanser. Not a number I could accidentally overlook.

I blinked. My hand gripped the rifle trigger. Once more, I slowly looked around inside. Not even a zombie corpse—everything else was the same.

When I first came here, I deliberately made loud noises to lure all the zombies outside. I didn’t want to smell the stench on my second or third visit.

The inside of the store is therefore relatively clean, just a bit dusty. I carefully bend my knee to examine the dust on the floor in the sunlight.

Faint but visible footprints. Some larger than mine, some smaller. Since they were made after the dust settled, they don’t seem to be zombie footprints.

‘People.’

There are people nearby. People who took only the scent remover and touched nothing else.

They didn’t take food, hygiene products, or even living tools. They only took this. Even the shampoo and conditioner on either side remained untouched.

They only took the scent remover.

This means they already have everything else. And the fact that they only needed scent remover means they have a reason to eliminate their body odor.

They’re not survivors. They’re hunters. No reason to hesitate anymore.

I first loaded food and hygiene products into the car. I diligently transported them using carts and handcarts. Thanks to special training with Camilla, I’d learned “how to move efficiently,” so I wasn’t too tired even after moving everything.

After loading everything, I scrawled an impressive message on the wall with a red marker pen:

“Goddess of Hunger, look upon us! We, your faithful followers, obey only your will!”