Ch.155Chapter 20. Patriot (7)

Leticia’s methodology was the exact opposite of what we had been doing all along.

My principle was ‘always be fully prepared and don’t get greedy.’ In contrast, Leticia’s opinion was ‘push forward when you can and use all available resources to the maximum.’

“If we have a safe hideout but there are many enemies around, then I think your method is right, Johan. But now it’s the complete opposite. There’s no safe place anywhere, but there are plenty of zombies. Why conserve their numbers? Just use them!”

We didn’t transport zombies by truck. Instead, we let the zombies “pioneer” the way forward on their own.

When they stopped advancing, we threw opened cans of food ahead. When we got stuck in a standoff with zombies blocking our path, we provided covering fire with silenced pistols.

If stone walls blocked our way, we gently pushed them with the car, and we kept our ears and eyes open for gangs and fanatics.

As we got closer to the center, we encountered patrols more frequently, but deceiving them became equally easier. There were too many zombies here for foot patrols to be feasible.

Because of this, both sides opted for quick mobility using vehicles or motorcycles, but with so many obstacles on the roads, they made a lot of noise without gaining much speed.

“Let’s duck down.”

Each time, we reclined the driver and passenger seats and lay flat. Fully armed, of course. The patrol vehicles would slowly pass by, but they didn’t bother to get out and throw open our car doors.

Well, from their perspective, not knowing whether there were hungry zombies or people inside, there was no reason to take unnecessary risks.

As we got closer to the center, the number of zombies blocking our path increased. Pistol fire had its limitations, so we quickly modified our strategy.

We threw lit Molotov cocktails and oil to create confusion, then selectively shot those that escaped. We only threw them in places we confirmed were safe from vehicles or explosives, but the effect of fire was tremendous.

Advance, infect, rest, then advance again.

The urban landscape changed as we moved from the outskirts toward the center. Buildings on the outskirts were a bit dirty but structurally sound, looking habitable with some cleaning. But the central buildings were so unsettling that you wouldn’t want to enter them even if paid extra.

Because death was sprawled everywhere.

Strangely, the most expensive areas in the city pursued “natural beauty.” Not just by gently landscaping the building exteriors, but by creating rooftop gardens, covering outer walls with ivy, or deliberately planting large trees inside buildings.

Those plants, which once provided green comfort to high-salaried individuals, had now grown into grotesquely bizarre forms.

Overgrowth.

Tree roots had grown bumpy and torn up the sidewalks. Wall ivy had broken through glass windows, seeped into buildings, and even destroyed window frames. What must have been pine trees now had branches as drooping and twisted as large elm trees in a gloomy swamp.

Beneath them lay countless corpses.

Propaganda materials like “Release the people trapped in the central district” and “My family is in there” were scattered about, alongside opposing messages such as “Guarantee property rights,” “Sacrifices are inevitable,” and “Believe in the Goddess and lean on Her,” all haphazardly strewn about.

Leticia scanned the positioning of the bodies and the direction of gunshot wounds, then concluded, “They were protesters.” She said the two sides had been divided along the four-lane access road beneath the elevated highway construction site.

But the violent suppression had been applied equally to both sides. I could guess why. Infected individuals had appeared in both protest groups, and the National Guard hadn’t selectively targeted just zombies but had fired on all civilians in their vicinity.

Like setting a backfire to stop an approaching blaze, they preemptively killed people around the infected to prevent further transmission.

So our pioneering pace remained steady, and the number of infected zombies grew, but even more zombies blocked our path.

Cassandra suggested a very special measure to reduce spray waste: don’t wash the clothes I had worn and distribute them to everyone.

Camilla, Cassandra, and Leticia ended up wearing outer garments over outer garments, looking somewhat ridiculous. It must have been uncomfortable to move, but everyone endured it well.

“I want to wear your shirt too. T-shirts are too constricting,” Leticia complained with a pout, but it couldn’t be helped. Shirts were exclusively for Cassandra. Her unique body shape meant T-shirts compressed her chest too severely.

“Doesn’t it smell bad?”

Even considering the circumstances, giving them my sweat-soaked clothes to wear was quite embarrassing.

“Are you going to wear this again?” Camilla asked.

When I said no, she immediately grabbed the neck part and stretched it out. She took out scissors, cut a long triangular shape from the side, repeatedly crumpled and unfolded it, then put it on. It became like an off-shoulder top with one shoulder exposed.

“How do I look?”

Camilla twirled around once. Clap, clap, clap. Cassandra, who had unconsciously applauded, lowered her hands in embarrassment. Leticia seemed itching to say something but ended with, “It suits you. Though it’s a bit large.”

“Want me to style you too?”

Camilla asked Leticia, but didn’t seem to expect much.

“I’m fine.”

As if she’d expected that response, Camilla moved toward Cassandra. Cassandra wore my shirt over her T-shirt, though it looked more like a cape than something properly worn.

“That must be uncomfortable.”

Camilla smoothed out Cassandra’s T-shirt and began buttoning my shirt from the bottom up. Cassandra protested in confusion that “the buttons won’t all close that way,” but Camilla ignored her.

Instead, after fastening only the bottom three buttons, she brought out a thin leather belt she’d taken from a department store we’d visited earlier.

“I’ve been meaning to give you this, and now seems like the right time.”

“But Cassandra already has a belt…”

“Don’t worry, it’s not going around your waist.”

As if it were a gun holster, Camilla wrapped the belt around Cassandra’s shirt. This made Cassandra’s chest stand out dramatically.

The unbuttoned shirt gathered her breasts toward the center, while the belt supported them from below, preventing them from shifting. This revealed her slender waist, which had been hard to notice because of her large chest.

“Try dressing like this sometimes instead of always wearing something like a doctor’s coat. You look pretty.”

Cassandra didn’t know how to react. The color and shape of her bra were visible through the thin white T-shirt. She seemed even more embarrassed because the shirt only covered half of her, but I couldn’t take my eyes off her.

“Th-thank you, Camilla…”

“It’s not my fault I was born this way…” Leticia groaned, but it wasn’t a significant issue.

“Aren’t you going to style me?” I playfully protested to Camilla, but she shook her head.

“I can’t style you right now.”

“Why?”

Camilla’s eyes sparkled as she whispered, “You look prettiest when my lipstick and teeth marks are on your body, but I can’t do that right now.”

Thanks to the fashion show, we were able to alleviate our fatigue, gloom, and anxiety. The plant overgrowth only worsened, and the abandoned piles of bones increased.

But what we feared most was behind us.

* * * * *

Finally, we reached the “wall.” The massive iron wall separating the central district from the four districts in the north, south, east, and west. A barricade haphazardly piled with containers and wrecked vehicles.

Seeing the large crane typically used in junkyards abandoned there, it seemed they had deliberately built it up. As if that wasn’t enough, they had even erected a concrete fence in front of it.

The fence was covered with bullet marks, burn marks, graffiti, and filth. The graffiti was more densely packed than a child’s sketchbook, with the words “Gates of Hell” catching my eye.

“Grrrr.”

And zombies.

The largest horde we’d seen so far, numbering well over 100, was milling about. They didn’t see us. They had their backs to us, facing the fence.

“Krrrk.”

But eventually one of them spotted us.

“Kak! Kak!”

They turned hostile but didn’t rush at us recklessly. Instead, they backed up closer to the wall.

It was enough to be intimidating.

Behind us were 300 zombies. Of course, I hadn’t counted precisely. I gave up after counting in groups of five. The last count was 300, so there must be even more now.

This was thanks to gathering zombies infected with “our virus” from previous conquered territories. We had used canned food to lure away the military police and other dominant zombies, scattering them, then guided the others to follow us.

“What should we do?”

In response to Camilla’s question, I pointed to the C4 explosives. Leticia rubbed her brow and asked:

“That seems iffy. Can we blow away that iron wall with this?”

“Not that.”

I pointed to a concrete building adjacent to the wall. It might have once been a car showroom, given its high ceiling. If we blew a large enough hole in the wall, not only zombies but also our vehicle could pass through.

“It’ll be loud.”

“Yes, loud enough to attract perhaps all the zombies inside.”

I grinned. The entrances were limited anyway, and we had heavy weapons. It didn’t matter if gangs or fanatic groups came. Firing recklessly would only disadvantage them.

“Let’s secure the perimeter first and hide the vehicle. And then…”

I took out a bundle of canned food.

“Let’s do it like we always do.”