Ch.117Chapter 16. Dispersion (3)

*****

Laboratory Rooftop.

Under the personal camouflage shade, Camilla had positioned her sniper rifle and was watching Johan. Her gaze followed Johan’s back, but her expression was a mixture of dissatisfaction and worry.

“He seems too excited.”

Johan, riding an electric bicycle, was repeatedly going from one end of the alley to the other. Each time, zombies would follow behind him in confusion.

When he felt enough of them had gathered, Johan would quickly dismount and dash into an open building. He’d escape through the back door or a window and slam the door shut behind him.

And then, he’d repeat the same process all over again.

“Should I call this brave or reckless?”

Her heart was pounding with anxiety. If anything went wrong, even slightly, Camilla would not hesitate to blow the heads off all those zombies gathered there.

Though she had attached a silencer, the concept of a sniper rifle silencer isn’t about “reducing” sound. It’s more about “dispersing” it so that the source can’t be pinpointed.

It’s quite useful when dealing with humans, but against zombies, it’s like announcing a feast and inviting them to come eat.

‘Worry is a disease too. Let’s not think unlucky thoughts.’

Camilla picked up her radio.

“How’s it on your end?”

Instead of an answer, she heard rough breathing.

“Huff… huff…”

“…You can turn down the mic volume a bit.”

“Ugh… sorry. On this side, um, I can see zombies beyond the wheat field. About fifteen… Is, is this okay?”

“It’s fine, Cassandra.”

Camilla couldn’t monitor all directions by herself. So she had Camilla watch Johan’s side, while Cassandra kept an eye on the opposite direction.

“It, it seems too hot here…”

Like Camilla, Cassandra was also wearing a bulletproof helmet and hiding under a personal camouflage cover.

The camouflage was black vinyl. It blocked the sunlight, but underneath it was terribly hot. With no wind blowing, their clothes were soaked with sweat, revealing the contours of their bodies.

“Still, don’t leave your position.”

“Of, of course not.”

Cassandra raised her voice as if protesting. Camilla suppressed a smile. But on the other hand, she was also a bit worried.

‘Cassandra seems like she hasn’t been sleeping well lately.’

Camilla had deliberately increased Cassandra’s exercise intensity. She thought it would make her tired enough to sleep well.

It was a miscalculation.

Cassandra was the type who would complain endlessly but somehow get the job done—one of those tough ones. At least when she thought something was “necessary,” she would finish it, albeit slowly, with that kind of tenacity.

She would exercise as required, continue her research, and yet couldn’t sleep at all. Camilla wondered if she might be too exhausted to sleep, like how intense exercise can make it hard to calm down.

The only time Cassandra’s expression seemed somewhat relaxed was when she was with Johan.

“Tch.”

‘Did I just say “tch”?’

Camilla was more surprised by her own reaction. Gathering herself, she cleared her throat and refocused her attention.

And then, as Johan was rushing out of the fifth building, he twisted his ankle.

“That idiot!”

Camilla muttered angrily in a low voice. Cassandra was startled and whispered into the radio.

“What, what? Wh-what happened?”

“That idiot twisted his ankle!”

An unexpected situation. Camilla was about to aim her sniper rifle but put it down again. The Johan she knew wasn’t stupid. Surely he wouldn’t be overwhelmed by a zombie horde of that size.

“Cassandra, keep watching your side carefully! Radio immediately if anything happens!”

Camilla set down her sniper rifle. Instead, she picked up the submachine gun she had prepared on the floor.

*****

“Ugh!”

Maybe I got too excited. My right ankle twisted. Of all places, I had stepped on a small pebble.

The twist was a problem, but I took a couple more steps forward in that condition. Better to stretch a ligament a bit than to fall in front of zombies.

“Grrrr!”

The electric bicycle was about 30 meters away. I needed to get closer somehow. Limping along, I pulled out my 1911 pistol. I aimed at the ankle of the zombie leading the pack and fired.

Phsst.

The low noise was good, but I missed. Phsst. Phsst. This time I pierced its foot. The creature lost balance and stumbled like I had, falling face-first.

The ones following just trampled over its back as they approached me.

“That’s a bit disappointing.”

Even though it’s bleeding, they don’t recognize it as food. Have they already filled their stomachs somewhere else? Or is eliminating me a higher priority than feeding?

Opening their skulls would tell me. This time I aimed at the head of the closest zombie and fired. Two more shots. Thud—its head burst open.

The shot zombie stood there stupidly before dropping to its knees. And then it crawled toward me. Still on its knees. Maybe it’s so heavily infected that it can move even with its head shattered.

“I don’t like things getting this messy!”

I shot out the knees of the zombies coming from both sides. Using my blood-soaked axe as a cane, I hobbled toward the bicycle.

And in front of the bicycle stood a zombie that had come around the corner. It was wrapped in a familiar blanket—that blanket I had thrown away, saturated with my scent.

By now my clothes were damp. Soaked with sweat and splattered with filth, the scent-eliminator had become useless. Sniff, sniff. The creature smelled the blanket and then sniffed in my direction.

Could it be? A faint kind of expectation arose.

“Yes. It’s me. It’s me. Don’t you recognize me?”

I probably shouldn’t have raised the axe. The dripping blood smell stimulated it. Growling, it bared its teeth and charged at me with outstretched hands.

Tatak.

The zombie fell, spraying blood. The destructive power was incomparable to the 22-caliber pistol. Tatak. Tatatak. The zombies behind also fell under the hail of bullets.

“Johan, behind you!”

Camilla shouted. The one that had been crawling on its knees with its head blown off leaped at me like a dog. I swung my axe upward at it and finished it with my pistol.

“Ugh.”

The creature finally collapsed toward me. Its dirty nails scratched my rider pants. The weak part of the pants tore away. I got slightly scratched.

“Won’t you ever learn!”

Camilla brought the electric bicycle. Her face hardened when she saw my wound. But she quickly replaced the magazine and patted my back.

“Go back quickly, hurry! I’ll follow behind!”

She was right.

*****

Cassandra didn’t seem too surprised. Instead, she moved quickly with a stern face.

She laid down vinyl and a blanket on the bed, had me lie down, and swiftly disinfected the wound. She had already prepared a change of clothes.

“Thanks for coming.”

Camilla stood with her arms crossed, and it looked like she might even have tears in her eyes.

It’s a bit embarrassing to say ‘it’s just a scratch.’ In a normal situation, this one wound would have meant the end of my life.

Camilla sighed deeply and asked Cassandra.

“How is it?”

“Give me a moment.”

Her usual scatterbrained demeanor was nowhere to be seen; now she was so sharp that even Camilla seemed a bit startled.

She brought a syringe, drew some blood from my arm, put it in a machine, and spun it around.

After examining the results under a microscope and checking the analysis on her laptop, she carefully examined my ankle and applied ointment.

“Your ankle is fine for now, but you shouldn’t move for a day or two. And the wound is infected.”

My heart sank. Camilla slumped to the floor. But wait, hadn’t we already been infected?

“Fortunately, Johan’s Chro-virus is stronger, so along with his body’s white blood cells, it’s fighting off the foreign Chro-virus. It seems to be going well so far, but we’ll need to monitor the progress.”

Camilla stood up abruptly. She seemed to have made up her mind as she stood in front of my bed.

“Cassandra.”

“Yes, Camilla.”

“Is it okay if I hit him?”

“Yes.”

“Give me your wrist. No, the other one! I just drew blood from this one!”

“Ah! Ah! Ouch!”

She hit me three times, and it felt like my wrist would break off.

Then she left with the terrifying words, “I’ll make some porridge, so don’t you dare move!”

The fact that she’s cooking herself means she must be really angry.

“Um… am I going to turn into a mindless zombie?”

“I don’t think so. It’ll be painful though. More importantly, why were you standing there like an idiot?”

“…You saw?”

“I saw.”

A strange woman. Cassandra’s eyes are cold.

Sometimes she seems so absent-minded that you wonder what kind of person she is, but other times she’s as sharp and brilliant as a scalpel. And at night… no. That’s not certain yet.

“There was a zombie standing in front of the bicycle, wearing the blanket I had thrown away. That blanket full of my scent. It kept sniffing, and it seemed like it recognized me, so I waited.”

“What happened?”

Cassandra moved closer. Her large breasts swayed. Her scent wafted over, pulling me in. Come to think of it, she must have just come down from the hot rooftop and only had time to put on a lab coat.

“It’s a bit ambiguous. It hesitated for a moment…”

“…Don’t do such dangerous things next time. Tonight, sleep here in the recovery room instead of your room. The windows make it easy to see inside, so we’ll notice if anything happens. First, let me give you an antibiotic injection…”

Her eyes seemed to flash again. But there was no time to ask anything. Camilla kicked the door open and entered, carrying a tray with a bowl.

“…Let’s do it after you eat.”

Cassandra’s words were barely audible.

“Eat! You bad man. I cooled it down so you won’t burn your tongue. Really, tsk.”

The porridge looked surprisingly decent. The bowl was just slightly hot to the touch.

“Hmph, I can at least boil oatmeal in water. It’s no different from making coffee, you know?”

Why does she talk as if this is her first time cooking? I was a bit suspicious, but I took a spoonful anyway, blowing on it first.

It’s oddly chalky and sweet. Like the rough, subtle sweetness you might get from licking mochi.

Is this what they say? That people who have suffered a lot find even plain grains sweet? But this is excessively sweet.

Another spoonful. Even sweeter than before.

“Is it not edible?”

“No, no. It’s delicious. But…”

“But what?”

“Did you season it?”

Camilla blinked at my question.

“Of course I did. How would you eat oatmeal boiled in water without flavor? I sprinkled a little salt.”

“…It’s delicious. Thank you.”

Camilla must have confused sugar and salt. Still, I’m grateful she didn’t burn it. People do add sugar to oatmeal anyway.

“Rest. Cassandra and I will keep watch.”

*****

Middle of the night.

“Mmm.”

Maybe because the third-floor recovery room was dry, I started coughing. It’s probably also because I’m not in my familiar room, making the bed feel strange.

“Water.”

Thankfully, someone handed me a water bottle. I gulped it down without thinking and then stared blankly at Cassandra.

“Didn’t you sleep?”