Ch.164Chapter 20. Patriot (16)

I pretended not to notice and moved calmly. I signaled to Camilla. She slid stealthily along the wall and positioned herself beside the door. Taking a deep breath, I kicked the door open. Bang!

“Gack!”

It was a zombie wearing a doctor’s coat over civilian clothes. It was so emaciated from starvation that it looked like a scarecrow dressed in clothes. With barely any life force remaining, it resembled a wooden puppet.

“Hic. Hic. Hic.”

Despite this, it grimaced and flailed its arms in the air. Its leg bone had broken when it fell, twisting the limb at a bizarre angle, yet it stubbornly grabbed the wall and stood up. Camilla aimed her gun.

“Wait. I’ll handle this. Could you prepare some spray?”

“What for?”

“To send it out.”

I pushed an office chair with wheels toward it. When I tapped the zombie, it opened its mouth and roared. At that moment, Cassandra sprayed something into its mouth.

“Kyaaaak!”

Its posture collapsed as it went berserk. I quickly sat it down on the chair and pushed it down the slope with enthusiasm.

I turned the corner and gave it a hard shove. The chair slid like a sled across the first-floor lobby and zipped out through the open door. Soon both the zombie and chair disappeared from sight.

Camilla was looking down from above, dumbfounded. I shrugged.

“It’s a hassle to clean up if we shoot them.”

“…Fair point.”

I considered closing the first-floor door but instead placed a chair with a fragile vase on top. If anyone tried to break in, the sound of the vase shattering would alert us.

“Where did it come from anyway?”

When we went up to the second floor, the answer was immediately apparent. It was the room at the very end, labeled “Break Room.”

“I made a mistake. I should have checked all the rooms first for potential threats. I was distracted…”

Has my intuition deteriorated that much?

No, that’s not it. Usually zombies would crawl out on their own at this point. But that one had such a faint presence. It was on the verge of starvation.

I threw open each door one by one. There was nothing alive. Not even corpses. Finally, I entered the problematic break room.

The windows were tightly shut, and the curtains were neatly arranged to the sides. When lightning struck, the room’s features became clearly visible.

“Johan.”

Camilla clutched my arm.

The walls were covered in graffiti. It was written in terrible cursive with bright red pen. They were prayers—prayers to the goddess of hunger.

“Hunger is equal to all. Hunger is fair to all. We were born from hunger, so to hunger we return.”

“O Goddess, we offer sacrifices to satisfy your hunger. Abundance is rightfully yours. Share your hunger with us, and as your children, we give you what a mother deserves.”

A note attached to the wall fluttered.

It read ‘To-Do List – Daily Report, Weekly Report, Monthly Report’ with numerous tasks written densely below. Though the ink had faded making most text illegible, I could clearly see the instruction to “diligently write and deliver reports, and maintain the streaming without interruption.”

At the very end was an email address.

I opened my smartphone and connected to the internet. I typed the email address into the search bar. Several results appeared, but they all showed the same information.

“Professor Joanna Mustein, Elza National University. Email address…”

“Joanna Mustein.”

The person who had been voyeuristically watching the streams and receiving reports was Joanna Mustein.

My foot kicked something. A trash can. There was a crumpled paper thrown inside. I unconsciously pulled it out and unfolded it.

“Ritual Procedure”

“What’s that?”

Camilla asked, but I couldn’t answer her. I read from top to bottom as if entranced. I couldn’t bring myself to explain it aloud. At the very end was an elegant handwritten note: “- Completed.”

“Just the ravings of a madman. Nothing important.”

“Let me see.”

“I really think you’d be better off not seeing it. Seriously.”

Camilla insisted on unfolding the paper. Sure enough, after reading just the first three lines, she threw it away.

“Sick bastards.”

She tried to cover her mouth, forgetting she was wearing a helmet.

“These sick bastards. Did I really see what I think I saw?”

The paper detailed the procedure for human sacrifice. It helpfully included a footnote stating it followed Elza’s ancient texts and ritual procedures. Now I understood why the leadership of the 284th National Military Police had died so quietly here.

They had been “offered.”

The 284th National Military Police headquarters had fallen into the hands of fanatics.

* * * * *

We were quite busy for a while.

While one person kept watch from the rooftop, the other three reinforced the outer fence and fixed the hangar door. Thanks to the spare building materials left by the headquarters soldiers, the work was easier.

The hangar door was large enough for vehicles to pass through, but it required considerable strength to open and close, so we’d need to install an automatic system.

Next came disinfection. All of us wore protective suits and disinfected the entire building with bleach. We mopped the corridors and rooms, found paint to redo the interior walls, replaced the curtains, and swapped out the mattresses. The foul smell that had permeated the building disappeared, replaced by the strong scent of paint.

“Good.”

I filled the generator on the power truck with fuel and started it up. It made a rumbling sound and spewed black exhaust before settling into a heavy, rhythmic thump. The lights flickered on with a buzz, and the ventilation fans began to whir.

“Electricity.”

With the fans running, the various odors quickly dissipated. The once gloomy health center brightened up like heaven.

“Yes, the medical equipment, blood analyzer, and centrifuge are all working fine. Sorry, but could Cassandra step away from work for a bit? I need to use some equipment.”

Camilla, Leticia, and I all stopped what we were doing. We all understood what Cassandra meant. A doctor who had spent her life telling others, “I’m sorry, but you’re infected. It won’t be long before you fully turn into a zombie,” might now have to make the same diagnosis for herself.

“…Want me to stay with you?”

Camilla even took a step forward. Cassandra shook her head.

“No. Cassandra isn’t that weak. As I said before, if something happens, I’ll create a file with instructions on what you all can do.”

Leticia, who had been leaning against the wall, asked bluntly:

“What are the chances?”

“What do you mean?”

“What’s the likelihood that you’ll rapidly turn into a zombie?”

“I need to analyze that. Acute mutations require analyzing and tracking numbers—it’s not like a litmus test where you can instantly tell by color. So it’s difficult to ask you all for help. Instead, if Cassandra seems like she’s turning into a zombie, shoot me in the head immediately.”

This wasn’t a joke. Cassandra was giving a clear warning.

“Cassandra may not be as good a shot as you all, but I’m confident in my physical strength. If I turn into a zombie, I could tear apart a lion’s jaw with my bare hands. So kill me before that happens.”

“Don’t say things like that. It won’t happen.”

Camilla said emphatically.

“If it does happen, I’ll end you with one shot. Before you even feel pain.”

Leticia declared, as if making a solemn promise.

I quietly removed my gloves and set them aside, then entered the building. Cassandra followed behind me.

“Johan, where are you going?”

“The blood research lab.”

“Cassandra can do it alone?”

“I’m not going to help you. I’m going because I want to be there. It has nothing to do with you.”

Cassandra’s expression didn’t change. I opened the door to the blood research lab and entered. Noisy machines were humming away. Cassandra followed me in, rolled up her sleeve, and drew her own blood without looking at me.

“Hold on.”

If nothing else, I know how to disinfect injection sites with alcohol swabs and apply Kibele emergency treatment. Cassandra quietly accepted my assistance before placing her blood in the centrifuge.

The door to the blood research lab opened. Camilla entered, having removed her gloves.

“Where’s Leticia?”

“She went up to the roof. To keep watch. It would be troublesome if something jumped over the fence, though that’s unlikely.”

Humanoid zombies weren’t much of a problem, but animal zombies were. People can’t climb the smooth cement fence, but zombie monkeys could infiltrate by climbing buildings and utility wires.

“So, how long until the analysis is done?”

“About 30 minutes.”

“So we have some time.”

An awkward silence fell briefly. I wanted to change the subject.

“This health center. What do you think happened here?”

While reinforcing the health center, I had been analyzing data from the laptop in my spare time.

The presence of CCTV monitors in the health center itself wasn’t problematic.

This place was supposed to be a retirement community where elderly people could spend their golden years comfortably. CCTVs were installed throughout to monitor in case seniors collapsed unexpectedly. Naturally, none of the cameras recorded inside the building—they mostly captured exteriors, roads, intersections, or courtyards.

The problem was that after the 284th National Military Police occupied the place, the CCTV connections were rerouted. What was created to monitor the retirement community had been connected to CCTVs throughout the Central District and was streaming remotely to external sources.

“The Central District is very large but isolated from the outside world. It was also home to one of Elza’s largest zoos. Maybe they used this place as a kind of testbed.”

Camilla frowned at Cassandra’s speculation.

“What kind of testbed?”

“A prediction of what would happen to the world when all humans turn into zombies and become the weakest species in the natural ecosystem.”

It wasn’t hard to guess what would happen. Intelligence, cooperation, and tools are what made humans apex predators. But zombified humans can’t utilize any of these.

Their flesh is soft, their nails fall out easily, and their canines are too short to sever an animal’s windpipe. Even reproduction isn’t easy. Other animals can walk within a day of birth. Human babies cannot.

“The human species would become the weakest prey, easily hunted. Carnivores would flourish. Only animals covered in tumors would roam the abandoned cities.”

Cassandra’s words weren’t prophecy. They were almost certainly what would happen. But how?

“Why do humans and animals behave differently? Actually, until coming here, I’d never seen animals mating. This was the first time. And the human zombies were different too. Zombies playing dead…”

I agreed with Camilla. While there were zombies that entered a kind of dormant state, I’d never seen ones that played dead before suddenly rising to attack. Cassandra fell into deep thought.

“I’ve heard about how mice avoid cats.”

“They run away quickly?”

“That works if they’re lucky, but the success rate is low. Instinctively, mice freeze in fear when they see cats. It has nothing to do with courage. It’s just how the species is designed. And cats, when they see mice, want to play with them. Unless they’re particularly hungry. So, mice play dead.”

A mouse lying limp and lifeless isn’t an interesting toy, and cats will abandon it if there’s no response. Of course, this doesn’t always work. A hungry cat will eat it immediately.

“So?”

“Maybe the humanoid zombies here came to a similar conclusion? Think about the zombie trapped in this health center. There were six corpses on the first floor that it didn’t touch. Perhaps they were already severely decomposed by then. The important thing is that even zombies won’t eat what’s rotting. It means zombies also try to eat relatively healthy food.”

The term “trapped” was actually inaccurate.

It had volunteered to stay behind. The 284th’s fanatics had used this place as a fortress and data collection base. It’s hard to know exactly why it volunteered to stay, but “slow progression of infection” seems most likely.

Many empty canned food containers were found in its room. It held out for quite a while before turning, and by the time it fully transformed… the corpses on the first floor were probably already too decomposed to eat.

So where did the rest of the headquarters personnel go? Did they pretend nothing happened and rejoin their unit, or did they become bandits somewhere? It was impossible to know.

“But Cassandra is concerned.”

“About what?”

“We know zombies have learning abilities. Like how we trained the military police zombies with candy. But even they, while they rested in the shade, never played dead to ambush people. And the zombies here shouldn’t be fundamentally different from those in other regions. So, thinking rationally… we can conclude that zombies are influenced by their environment. In other words…”

Just then, the centrifuge beeped. The computer read the data, and the printer spat out the analysis results. Cassandra hesitated, seemingly unsure whether to continue speaking or check the results. But she soon approached the printer.

I thought I understood what Cassandra was trying to say.

Adaptation.

Zombies adapt to their environment.

Slowly, gradually. But definitely.

Animals may have already completed their adaptation. That’s why they reproduce.

Humanoid zombies haven’t. A weak organism with no ability to fight back, no power, no weapons, not even intelligence, will simply perish before the hungry forces of nature.

That’s why they can’t reproduce.

“Cassandra?”

Camilla’s voice cracked. Cassandra was staring intently at the results. From what I could see, she read it from top to bottom at least three times. Then.

Rip.

She tore it up violently.