Ch.152Chapter 20. Patriot (4)

I climbed up the ladder attached to the container. I aimed my M1911 pistol with a silencer. I don’t shoot zombies that are fighting “our” zombies. Can’t risk a misfire.

Phsst. Phsst.

Instead, I targeted those approaching from blind spots and ones lunging from a distance.

I don’t aim for the head. That would reduce the number of zombies we can infect. Shooting the stomach doesn’t do much either. So I aim for the thighs, shoulders, or forearms.

When hit in the leg, they lose balance and stagger. When hit in the arm, their combat ability drops significantly.

“KRRAAAAAH!”

Among the aggressive foursome, the military police zombie stands out. It seems to have learned some fighting techniques.

It feeds its chain-wrapped arm into the mouth of a charging zombie, then headbutts it or strikes its abdomen.

The opponent, having bitten the chain, has a sore mouth and dazed jaw while getting beaten, unable to regain its senses. That’s when the military police zombie bites into its neck or between the shoulder and neck.

“Grrrk, grrrrrk!”

Blood sprays everywhere. Zombies go even more berserk at the sight of blood. What felt like moderate scuffling now seems like a fight to the death.

These creatures have priorities. First priority is anything approaching with hostility. They can uncannily sense when something—human or zombie—approaches with intent to kill. Second priority is food.

In areas with extremely high concentrations of the hunger-inducing Limos virus, they’ll be too busy eating to care about anything else, but not in low-concentration areas.

That’s why the aggressive, ferocious military police zombie is always the first priority.

Phsst. Phsst.

The aggressive foursome seems quite accustomed to this non-tactical tactic. While the military police zombie draws attention and leads the zombies, the foursome bites them from the sides or behind.

“Hrrrrr…”

As we break their formation, the “enemy” zombies’ behavior changes. One or two start to retreat. The military police zombie and the foursome grow more confident and growl, and from that point, any semblance of formation completely collapses.

Fear, terror, excitement—these emotions are palpable from the zombies. Hesitation. Defensive postures. Backing away. What else could these be but manifestations of fear and terror?

“Looks like we’ve made enough progress.”

I took out the spray I’d kept in my pocket. It was in a glass container, not plastic. I threw it hard over the hesitating zombies. The spray shattered against a bent iron bar.

The concentrated “our-type Kro virus” burst out.

The concentrate spreading through the air would quickly seep into their respiratory systems and wounds. Those who inhaled too much clutched their throats and coughed.

“Grrrng…”

“Our” zombies also stopped attacking. They hadn’t abandoned their hostility, but they sniffed the air and recoiled in disgust.

“Keng, keng!”

Of course, their hunger remained. They dragged one of the closest zombies over. They tore at it violently and sank their teeth in. Zombies are predators. Predators must eat.

Crunch.

Not a pleasant sight.

– Johan. A vehicle approaching from the north. Straight road about 1.5km away, 4-seater pickup truck. Mounted with a machine gun.

“Can you see their affiliation?”

– Fanatic flag. The road is blocked in places, but they’ll pass through your clearing in about 4 minutes at most.

“Thanks.”

If it’s just one 4-seater pickup with a mounted machine gun, it’s likely a regular patrol.

Fortunately, they don’t usually interfere with zombie fights. They probably don’t see the need to waste bullets on such things.

“Hey!”

I shouted loudly. The military police zombie glared at me with a “grrrng.”

“Keep up the good work for my share too!”

“GRRRRRNG!”

Why does it seem offended?

I quickly returned to the driver’s seat. I drove the truck into the shadows between buildings. I turned the radio volume down as low as possible and lay flat on my side.

– You’re well hidden.

“Passing grade?”

– More or less. They’re stopping the car. About 300m ahead of your hiding spot. They’re by the entrance road next to the overpass, so you won’t see them from where you are.

I can’t hear the car engine. Only the sound of zombies quarreling with each other.

– They’re gone. They looked around at the zombies fighting for a bit, then left before others could approach. Seems they were just a patrol after all.

The patrol has passed, the spray has dispersed, and our zombies have finished their meal. Now it’s time for confirmation.

“I’m going down.”

– Johan. Do you really need to confirm this?

“What’s there to be afraid of when you’re watching over me?”

No response. I slowly drove the truck toward the clearing. After opening the rear door, I took out a Kivelle Company canned food that I’d placed on the passenger seat and got out of the car.

“Hey, canned food, canned food!”

I opened the lid wide and threw it into the truck. The military police zombie and the aggressive foursome, who had been sitting idly, turned their heads and sniffed the air. They shambled toward the truck.

The military police zombie’s eyes were fixed on me. Same with the other four. I gripped my pistol tightly, maintaining a safe distance. Ready to shoot if necessary.

“Grrrr.”

The military police zombie turned its head sharply and walked past me. The others followed. Other zombies who had been watching cautiously followed in a group. I loaded about ten of them and pressed the remote to close the cargo door.

“Grrrk. Gyaaak.”

I approached the fallen zombies. They were writhing in pain. I could clearly see new flesh growing with a dry, crackling sound. Their lifeless eyes were still looking at me.

“Yes. It’s me.”

“Krrk.”

Some of them staggered to their feet. They sniffed the air and shook their heads.

Plop. Plop.

The sky darkened and raindrops began to fall one by one.

The zombies crawled back into the shantytown. Those who could walk dragged their feet, while those on the ground dragged their bodies. Among them were some too severely injured to get up again. Other zombies pulled at their bodies. Not to help them, surely.

Camilla was waiting beside the truck.

“Get inside. You’re getting wet.”

“Just reminiscing. Not that it was that long ago.”

She must be talking about the day we got infected at the resort. Thinking about that day gives me mixed feelings. Back then we were the ones getting infected, but now we’re spreading the infection.

“But is it really true that if zombies get infected with ‘our’ virus, we can move around safely?”

Camilla asked, brushing her wet hair behind her ear.

“Just like I did just now.”

“Actually, even that much would be enough. Then I could make some noise when going to the supermarket? If there’s anything decent left there.”

“Want to check? I saw an open place on our way here.”

“A date for just the two of us after so long.”

Thump thump. Bang bang.

“Let’s go. I’m coming.”

The zombies in the cargo area were making a fuss as if saying “why aren’t we moving yet?” I started the engine again and drove off. Camilla organized the clutter on the passenger seat and wiped the window with her palm.

I could see the streets we had passed through. Judging by the overpass construction site, we’ve conquered roughly 1/3 of the area. Of course, to reach the center, we’d need to secure 2/3 more.

But I’m not in a hurry. We need to infect and secure enough zombies to guarantee our safety. What’s important now isn’t breaking through quickly, but advancing steadily even if it’s just one street at a time.

The problem is that we can’t confirm how many zombies we’ve infected, and I’m not sure how to control this many zombies.

It’s not an issue now while their numbers are small. We just park the truck in front of hostile zombies and open the cargo door. Then the ones inside will spread the infection.

But eventually, we’ll need to lead all these zombies to larger areas, and our current method won’t work. We can’t keep putting an infinite number of zombies in the truck.

“What are you thinking about so hard?”

Camilla smiled gently.

“Just thinking about what to choose at the supermarket.”

“You’re really okay, right?”

“Huh?”

Camilla’s face was full of concern.

“Of course I’m okay.”

“…That’s good then.”

“Why?”

“Nothing. It’s just… this bizarre plan aside, you seem to have adapted too quickly. So I was worried if you’re really okay or just pretending to be.”

“Is the plan too much for you?”

“You, and… spreading your virus that’s inside our bodies? No. That’s not burdensome. It’s our best option for safety right now, and no one gets seriously hurt. But…”

“But?”

Plop plop. Raindrops hit the window. Camilla quietly watched them fall.

“We’re using the zombie virus now. Just like Kivelle Company did. Of course, our purpose and direction are completely different, but Kivelle ultimately failed. Unexpected things happened. I think this plan isn’t much different. It’s too dangerous.”

“What’s dangerous about it?”

“You.”

Camilla turned to look at me.

“This plan falls apart completely without you. Sure, your virus is in me and… um… Leticia’s body too, but not as much as in you. Yet you’re still fighting at the front lines, always choosing the most dangerous places. I’m worried about you.”