Ch.143Chapter 19. First Broadcast (1)

<Chapter 19. First Broadcast>

When I turned on the lights, the smell of burning dust filled the air. I sneezed and flung open the windows, swinging the duster around. I had torn down the barricades and thrown the curtains into the washing machine. The row of washing machines hummed in unison. Just then, Camilla came down to the laundry room carrying an empty laundry basket.

“Did you clean up the rooftop garden?”

“Yeah. I repotted the plants in good condition. The overgrown ones I just threw out. I opened the water tank and swept the bottom clean, so it should be fine to hang laundry up there.”

It seems like ages ago now, but we had created a garden on the rooftop and planted various types of seeds. We had diverse seeds and different types of soil: some taken from the wilderness, some sold in plastic packaging at plant shops, some brought from someone’s home garden… I wanted to see how plants would grow in different types of soil.

Originally, I had planned to observe them through second and third generations. Unfortunately, I wouldn’t be able to see that in this laboratory. Still, the results so far were quite chilling.

First, the plants grown in soil from the wilderness showed growth bordering on abnormal—growing two or three times faster than in “normal” soil.

As a result, the soil’s nutrients were depleted extremely quickly. Then these crops extended their roots like vines into neighboring furrows.

These “overgrown” plants were awkward to eat. The stems were too thick, and the leaves were plump. Looking at the dried-up watermelon vines, Cassandra had predicted “the fruit would be about the size of a mortar.” Of course, with an unripe, completely green interior.

Only the crops grown in soil that had been disinfected in the scorching sun and supplemented with compost nutrients, or those grown in the plastic-packaged soil from plant shops, were “normal.”

“So growing plants for food will become difficult from now on.”

I offered a rather gloomy outlook, but Camilla seemed to think differently.

“It might be okay if we focus on fast-growing crops. You know, ones that can be eaten even when they’re not fully ripened.”

“For example?”

“Turnips.”

Camilla’s eyes sparkled.

“…Turnips?”

Of course, I like turnips too. Turnip wraps served with meat or Ganghwado turnip kimchi, for instance. But those aren’t staple foods.

“Yes. I bet there’s not a single person from Elza who can’t make at least ten turnip dishes. I can make them too. Turnip pickles, turnip cutlets, turnip jam, turnip bread…”

For some reason, I imagined Camilla wearing nothing but an apron, coating sliced turnips in batter. If we could make normal batter, that is.

“…I think pickles would be enough. Or maybe beans could work too.”

Just then, the washing machine beeped. The laundry was done. Camilla pulled the clothes out and placed them in the basket.

“Anyway, I’ve cleaned up the rooftop, so bring your laundry too. I’ve already set up the clotheslines.”

Camilla, seemingly excited for some reason, went up first. I watched her from behind. Hair tightly tied with a rubber band, wearing a short-sleeved T-shirt, dolphin pants, and slippers. It was a casual outfit I hadn’t seen before, but she looked more vibrant than ever. It wasn’t just because of the lighting.

“Just having electricity makes life so much richer.”

Since we were going to leave the laboratory anyway, everyone agreed to run the generator to its fullest for a few days and live like normal people.

We were completely abandoning our previous policy of strict concealment, but there was a reason for this.

This four-story building is the tallest in the area. If the lights are bright at night, it will be visible from quite a distance. That’s enough to attract those mindless zombies. What if groups of humans come? The surrounding area is all open plains, so they can’t escape our surveillance.

After attracting them, we infect them with “our version of the Cro virus” to increase our numbers.

We still don’t know how to control zombies 100%. But we do know how to communicate minimally—giving simple instructions like “attack over there” or reassuring them that “we mean no harm.”

Four leading zombies including the military police zombie, ten followers, plus the combat power of the four of us—we could easily take over a small town.

We make the zombies our allies.

* * * * *

Everyone seemed excited under the bright lights. Camilla was carefully folding crisp, dried clothes in rather revealing attire, while Leticia was singing in the hot shower despite the warm weather. She was even blowing on an empty bottle like a trumpet.

“So this is the last blood draw, right?”

Meanwhile, I was in the infirmary with my sleeve rolled up, having my blood drawn.

Cassandra nodded with her usual expressionless face. Still, the shadows under her eyes had lifted, and her pale face now had a healthy flush, which was good to see.

“For now. The amount has been within normal donation levels, so it shouldn’t be too hard on your health. With electricity, extracting your pheromones will be more efficient and smoother. I don’t know where our new settlement will be, but we should have enough to ensure our safety.”

“I’m planning to go north.”

“North? The lake?”

“Across the lake and further up. Beitra City.”

“Beitra… Isn’t that a fairly populated city? I remember it having about a million residents. It’s in a non-protected human zone, so many people would have left, but it still seems dangerous.”

It’s possible.

Beitra has an interesting structure. It’s a polycentric city, meaning the city’s central axis isn’t concentrated in one place but dispersed across several locations.

Rather than a million people living in a single city, it feels more like several small towns of 200,000-300,000 people clustered tightly together like a snowball called Beitra. That’s why each of Beitra’s five districts has a very different feel and requires different strategies.

“We’ll go to the wealthy area. As far as I know, there’s a clinic operated by Elza National University there. It’s small but equipped with good facilities since it’s a medical facility exclusively for the elite, and such areas would have their own generators in case of power outages.”

Of course, whether those things are still there remains to be seen, but it would be much better than finding a portable generator in this backwater. Cassandra still seemed worried.

“…But why go to a city? Until now, we’ve tried to stay in places where neither zombies nor people would notice us.”

“That’s true. Before the Western State of Minsk invaded.”

This is information Leticia shared.

Minsk didn’t send mercenaries because they had excess money and people. They want information on how to overcome the virus. Enough to risk crossing the border.

It’s true that the mercenaries obtained significant information, but they won’t be satisfied with that. The information they took is likely fragmented, and even if they decode it, it might be information they already know, discarded theories, or data that only researchers from Elza Kibele Corporation could interpret.

If that’s the case, their next move would be to deploy regular troops.

“…Is a war breaking out?”

Cassandra turned pale after hearing my explanation. I nodded.

“There’s a high possibility. Since the Western State of Minsk doesn’t need Elza’s territory, a full-scale war is unlikely, but localized conflicts targeting important strategic points are more probable.”

For example, the hydroelectric dam near Minsk. It supplies power to three provinces. If Minsk occupies it and says, “If you want your power plant back, hand over your medical information,” Elza would be in serious trouble.

“Fighting against regular troops is too dangerous. They won’t come empty-handed. They’ll bring heavy equipment. If that’s the case, rather than hiding along their potential route, it might be better to settle near a city they won’t bother with.”

One way to avoid danger is to dive right into it. I gently held Cassandra’s hand. She seemed a bit embarrassed but didn’t pull away.

“If it were just the four of us, we definitely wouldn’t go to the city. It’s too dangerous. But we have the zombies. Zombies that could be on our side. If we can control them, we can save more people. You’ll have more time to develop a cure. We’ll be guaranteed safety. And so will the remaining people.”

Of course, that’s a lie. A cure cannot be created.

But should I tell Cassandra that? I’m not sure. By the same logic, sharing emotions with zombies shouldn’t be possible either. Yet we succeeded. Perhaps, in this iteration, a cure might be possible too.

“Johan.”

Cassandra looked at me with a flushed face. Come to think of it, she doesn’t look as tired as before—perhaps because she’s been sleeping well lately. Her face seems brighter.

“Yes?”

“The blood draw is done.”

Ah.

I quickly let go of her hand. It was strangely embarrassing. Cassandra removed the needle and handed me an alcohol swab.

“Press this firmly. Don’t let go.”

“Oh, okay.”

“You can’t let go?”

Cassandra moved behind me. Something soft and gentle touched the back of my head. There was a faint warmth and a pleasant scent. Her slender arms gently wrapped around my neck.

“Um, Cassandra?”

“Thank you.”

Cassandra embraced me from behind. I almost let go of the swab, but since I should follow the doctor’s orders, I kept pressing it.

“You’re the first person like you, Johan, who cares about the world like Cassandra does. I’m happy.”

After the intense hug, she stepped back. When I turned around, her breathing had become quite rapid, and her clothes were disheveled. I could see her chest slightly exposed where her shirt had ridden up.

“Since we’ve already drawn blood, maybe other things too…”

Cassandra let out a moan as if in pain, but then shook her head.

“No, no. Too much excitement isn’t good for the body. Go rest. Don’t shower today. You already did, right? Good.”

“Are you okay?”

“Cassandra is always okay.”

For someone who says that, she was breathing rather heavily.