Ch.119Chapter 16. Dispersion (5)

Leaving only two men to guard the vehicle, the team leader gathered his five remaining subordinates for a pre-mission briefing.

“Our objective is simple. We need to extract data from the research facility. The problem is we don’t know which of these ten-plus buildings houses the research lab.”

Sometimes the research facilities were even hidden underground beneath commercial buildings on the upper floors.

“We brought plenty of ammunition, but that doesn’t mean you should fire recklessly. Maintain proper spacing. Understood? Questions?”

A man with a thick jaw raised his hand.

“What about the fanatics? They seem to have occupied this area too.”

When they had visited the mart where deodorizing shampoo and body wash had been looted, there was graffiti on the wall saying something about a “goddess.” Evidence that fanatics were in the area. The team leader answered without much thought.

“Just kill them. The humans in non-protected zones are people abandoned even by the Elza government. No point in keeping them alive. Anything else?”

This time another team member raised his hand. A man with sunken eyes.

“How long will we be staying here?”

“We’ll need to get all the data backups, and if that’s not possible, we might have to rip out the hard drives, so it’ll take quite a while. Why?”

“Then if we capture some fanatics… can we have some fun with them?”

The thick-jawed man and a woman with a crooked nose immediately scolded him.

“You’re thinking about that shit? I’m fucking starving to death here.”

“Still, this place seems more bearable than other areas.”

They all looked at the team leader with a certain expectation. The team leader nodded.

“I don’t care what you do as long as you don’t leave the perimeter, but I don’t think you’ll find much entertainment here.”

The fanatics seemed to have developed their own ways of survival. Blocking the stairs from the first to the second floor was usually enough. If they needed to go down, they could just use a ladder.

Of course, this made moving goods difficult, so fanatics often installed pulley-like devices on windows. During their preliminary reconnaissance, they hadn’t seen any pulleys. So, there probably weren’t any fanatics ahead.

Then again, they didn’t necessarily need fanatics for entertainment. The eight of them often had plenty of fun on their own.

The six mercenaries, including the team leader, moved with agility.

Two men with Osberg shotguns, full body armor, and helmets covering their entire heads with only eye holes were at the very front.

Behind them were two men armed with 7.62mm AKM rifles. Then came the “door breaker” carrying only a P40 submachine gun but equipped with all sorts of destruction and infiltration gear, and the team leader with a mountable PKM machine gun.

There was no dedicated medic. They were all capable of basic first aid. Besides, if someone got attacked by a zombie, a bullet to the head was the only treatment anyway.

The six approached slowly. There was no need to rush. Running around would only agitate the zombies more.

Above all, their goal wasn’t infiltration but occupation. No fanatics. Only zombies. The mercenaries entered the road with confidence.

Two zombies from the wheat field approached, arms outstretched, mumbling.

“Fire.”

The two men armed with rifles began shooting. They fired carefully, one shot at a time. Shoulder, stomach, lower abdomen, thigh, knee. They methodically neutralized from top to bottom, not bottom to top.

Heads exploded, shoulders were blown off, fist-sized holes appeared in lower abdomens. The two zombies collapsed. The wheat field rippled from the loud gunshots. From the other side of the field, more zombies lumbered toward them.

Woof! Woof!

Feral dogs charged at them. The shotgun team calmly aimed. Bang—a heavy discharge sound. Not birdshot with small pellets, but buckshot with large balls.

“Kyaaang!”

The smaller dog was torn in half, and the larger one’s body was blown apart. Fatal wounds that even the Kro virus’s regenerative abilities couldn’t heal.

“Reloading!”

The formation paused briefly, then moved again after hearing “All clear!” It wasn’t just about changing magazines. They only moved after fully reloading. A little inconvenience now would make things easier later.

Shhring!

“What’s that? What sound is that?”

An irritating noise was heard. The sound of metal scraping against metal.

But it was unclear where it came from. All they could see were dried wheat and reeds standing tall, bizarrely positioned buildings, and blindingly brilliant sunlight.

“Hey, 7 and 8. Anything unusual?”

– Nothing, sir.

“Didn’t you hear something like metal grinding?”

– Nothing besides gunshots and screams. By the way, we should start engaging too. The noise is spreading, and they’re coming our way.

“Yeah, engage. Good work. If you can’t hold them off, drive the vehicle toward us immediately.”

Why do zombies approach when they hear gunshots?

Scholars in Minsk had put forward a plausible hypothesis. Zombies know that when gunshots are heard, someone or something has died, so they approach in search of food.

– Zombies are creatures that strive to survive alone more than any other being in the world. Just as humans struggle to survive by any means necessary, zombies have that instinct too.

The team leader always thought this was nonsense. Humans wouldn’t willingly walk into gunfire. But zombies thrust themselves forward. Even when the head of the zombie walking beside them gets blown off.

Can you call a creature that has no sense of self-preservation intelligent? No. That’s why the team leader never hesitated to blow zombie heads off. After all, that’s what he was paid well for.

In Minsk, many still viewed zombies as people. They believed that once a vaccine was developed, the zombies would return to normal.

The strongest advocates for this view were insurance companies and financial institutions. If zombies were declared dead, they would have to pay out massive death benefits all at once, which would bankrupt them.

“Hey, you bastards. Focus.”

The team leader directed at his team members what he should have been telling himself.

“Don’t we need to make our fortune in Elza and get out? Keep an eye out for bank signs. Look for gold bars or something valuable, not useless Elza currency!”

In Elza, you could do whatever you wanted. It wasn’t like Minsk, where just grabbing someone’s sleeve could get you sued.

Enjoy, take, kill—that was it. Sometimes there were attractive women and men, but everything had to be a one-time thing. No witnesses could remain.

Pleasure without responsibility. That was their rule.

‘If I get married and settle down in Minsk, I won’t be able to live like this, so I should do what I can while I’m young.’

Killing zombies was boring and monotonous. That’s why mercenaries often drifted into contemplation. It was no different from shooting at targets that kept appearing, so it was better to empty the mind, but…

Today was different.

“Is this a place without zombies originally?”

Machine gun fire echoed from where 7 and 8 were positioned. They were probably firing from the truck-mounted gun. But even those sounds were intermittent.

“Maybe it’s because it’s not a city? This is completely rural. If there weren’t many people here originally, there wouldn’t be many zombies either.”

“It still seems too empty. Well, it’s good if there aren’t many. Let’s have a snack and cool down the barrels. Are we short on ammunition?”

Everyone had brought 4-5 magazines each plus ammo boxes. It would be excessive armament if they were dealing with agile humans, but their opponents were sluggish zombies. Combat rations, blankets, and other supplies were all left in the camper van and truck, so there was no problem.

Shhring.

It wasn’t just the sound. Something glinted. It was from the wheat field. But the team leader only aimed his gun without firing.

‘Is there some farm equipment stuck there?’

It was hard to tell. The brief maintenance was complete. They decided to visit the buildings one by one, starting with the leftmost house across the road.

Number 6, the “door breaker,” grabbed a metal canister with a handle. He stood in front of the door wearing body armor. All mercenary team members aimed at the door. The team leader counted with his foot. One. Two. Three!

Bang!

The metal canister blew off the doorknob. The “door breaker” stepped back. Creeeeak—thud. The door swung open.

Bang!

“They’re inside! Fall back! I said fall back!”

The shotguns spat fire continuously. Team members retreated slightly. Zombies poured out of the doorway, jostling each other.

Crash!

“Above!”

Suddenly, a window above shattered, and a zombie hurled itself into the air. Thud—it landed face-down on the ground, its neck broken from the impact, but it still charged at them, foaming blood from its mouth.

“Guard the flanks! Guard the flanks! I’ll break through! Yaaah!”

There was a reason he was the team leader. He had the strength to hold a light machine gun with both hands and fire while advancing. Though not precisely aimed, it was enough to turn the zombies inside the house into something resembling tomatoes in a blender.

Eventually, the gunfire ceased.

“Huff. Huff. Haaa. Casualties!”

“None!” / “All good!” / “Got some blood on my clothes, but I’m fine!”

The team leader gestured for them to enter. The shotgun team went in first. “Gyaaak!” A zombie that had been playing dead on the floor raised its head. Bang! The shotgun fired, and the zombie’s head splattered like paint across the carpet.

“Shit, that scared me.”

“Good job, Number 2.”

“We need to be more careful, Team Leader. This has never happened before. Usually, in situations like this, zombies come out of the house first, right? What’s going on here?”

Unfortunately, there was nothing in the house. The first floor was just a commercial space, and the second floor was an unremarkable residence. The mercenary team moved on to the next building.

“Look at this.”

The glass wall was covered with curtains, so they couldn’t see inside. The problem was the entrance. Tables and chairs were blocking the doorway.

“There must be zombies inside this house too. What happened here?”

“You should see this.”

Someone pointed at the wall. Red paint spelled out: “The Goddess watches over us all. She heals us, cares for us, and allows us to live as humans!” The glossy, fresh appearance suggested it had been written recently.

The team leader nodded as if he finally understood.

“This must have been a space where they isolated infected fanatics. That’s why there are no pulleys. They would have stacked everything they needed inside. No wonder there are blankets scattered around but strangely no garbage.”

“Then let’s get incendiary bombs from the vehicle.”

The team leader got angry at Number 1’s suggestion.

“Are you insane? Our goal isn’t to burn down this village. It’s to collect data and leave. No. Fire extinguishers, at most smoke grenades are all I’ll authorize. Nothing more.”

“What about this house?”

“Let’s knock. Not on the door, but on the wall. Shotgun team, break it.”

Just as the men with shotguns were about to fire at the glass wall.

“Hey there!”

It came from the adjacent wall. They could see a piece of cloth attached to a wooden flag waving like a banner.

“Need any help?”

It was a young man’s voice.