Ch.18Chapter 4. Lambert Drive (3)

The woman was taking off her pants, but the man was ecstatically fondling a bread bag.

“Stop playing with it and hurry up, will you!”

She unbuckled her belt and pulled down her pants. Something was taped all over the man’s thighs. Single-serve ketchup packets. Mustard sauce. Sliced cheese…?

Unable to contain herself any longer, the woman started ripping them off.

“Hey, hey, sl-slow down! Ow!”

Whether the man was squirming with his legs pressed together or not, the woman was too busy placing cheese on bread and drizzling sauce to care.

“If you spill even one drop, I swear I’ll make you pay.”

“Aww, does it hurt so much?”

Thud.

I almost fired. Fortunately, it ended with just tapping the partition with my gun. The woman had thrown off her top.

I couldn’t help but be impressed. Not because her breasts were so large they were visible from behind, but because of the shiny Capri-Sun fruit juice pouches taped along the inside of her arms to her sides.

…How did she even think to attach those there?

“Want to suck?”

The woman crossed her arms under her breasts and pushed them up. The man, almost drooling, frantically reached out—not for her chest, but for the drink beside it—tore off the straw and jabbed it into the pouch.

The woman didn’t flinch at all, probably because the straw was so thin.

“Slurp. Sluuurp…mmm..slurp…”

“Mmm. Mmph, mm, mmm! MMM!”

The man sucked on the juice while the woman munched on bread. After a while, they switched positions. Now the man was chewing, and the woman was sucking.

“H-hey, we’re safe today, right?”

The man was getting nervous after drinking an entire pouch.

“Ugh, you idiot! Today’s auction day! Everyone’s swiping stuff while moving goods, but you’re such a coward…”

“Look, rolling around with you is fine, but stealing food is zombie-bait territory. Everyone’s starving to death.”

“Fuck off. Who raided the medical convoy risking their lives, huh? Wasn’t that us? We dragged doctors and nurses as slaves, took the medicine, vehicles, and surgical tools. And what did we get? ‘Good job, now go to sleep?’ Bastards. If I had enough bullets, I would’ve shot them dead, I swear.”

“Come to think of it, how long has it been since we last did it?”

“The last time was when we burned down the police chief’s family, so half a year? Ah, it’s complicated. Just eat. I’m too hungry to remember.”

The woman licked the juice from her lips while grumbling.

Raids. Slaves. Bullets. The woman was a gang member just like the man. Those guys feel hunger just the same—enough that it overcomes their sexual desires.

On their looting trip, they discovered a Disease Crisis Management Agency convoy, enslaved the doctors and nurses, and stole the vehicles and medicine, bringing them to Lambert.

Of course, being gang members, they wouldn’t receive proper compensation, and these two were… well, pretending to eat while secretly actually eating, or something like that.

What disgusting behavior.

“Stop squeezing it so hard.”

Oh, if you press the ketchup that hard…

“I think I’m going to squirt.”

Of course you will.

“I-I don’t think any more will come out.”

Please don’t squeeze the sauce with your hands clasped so politely.

“You’ve squeezed it all out already? That won’t do… I think I’ll choke.”

A man whining to a woman making disgusting aegyo. The reasons to kill them keep piling up.

Despite her words, the woman adds another layer of bread and rolls it up. She stuffs her mouth full, her cheeks bulging as she chews.

“Ah, this is so good… filling my throat… this is too good. Fuck, but why am I still hungry? No matter how much I eat. Maybe it’s because I grew up malnourished.”

“It’s not just us, you know? Those doctor and nurse kids, they grew up in rich neighborhoods, well-fed and well-educated. But they were still whimpering about being hungry. When I shook a bag of almonds, they became so obedient. Bastards.”

“Really? This crazy bitch wasn’t like that. She was full of energy. The owner of this jacket.”

The woman fluttered the jacket, pushing her large breasts together, but the man was too focused on sucking juice to notice.

“Whose is it?”

“You know, that gloomy-looking girl. The one with long black hair who keeps her head down, with tits bigger than her head. Wow, if she could get into medical school with that tiny head… if she’d studied with her chest, she could’ve become prime minister.”

That big? I’d like to see.

“Ah, that pretty one? They locked her in the vault, saying she shouldn’t be touched. She’s premium merchandise to be sold at a high price to a VIP at the auction.”

“Premium merchandise my ass. She’s totally defective.”

The woman cackled.

“We had to search her body, so me and three others went in. Man, that bitch went wild… she’s the one who messed up my face like this. Damn… I should’ve broken her nose. I was too pissed to leave empty-handed, so I took her jacket, and wow.”

“Was it that impressive? The boss does have an eye for these things. She didn’t look that big from the outside.”

“Well, she was about my size.”

Seeing how she speaks with those swollen, burst lips, the other woman must be much bigger. “About my size”? No way. Her sudden anger suggests my guess is right.

“No, shit. It’s not about the tits, idiot. It’s her arms. I thought she was a zombie. She had so many needle marks that her veins were burst and bruised all over. Not just inside her elbows, but below her wrists, even on the backs of her hands.”

“A junkie?”

“No. It’s different. You know those really thick needles they use for transfusions or medications? The ones that go straight into the vein. Those were the marks. But she had no surgical scars. That means something’s seriously wrong with her body. So messed up they can’t operate, just pumping her full of drugs.”

“How do you know all this?”

“Hey, I was a paramedic at Lambert Police Station! I’m the one who held your head and threw you in a cell. Don’t you remember? Maybe not, since you were high as a kite back then.”

“Oh, was that you? Then I should ‘repay’ my benefactor, shouldn’t I?”

The man pressed his lower body against her. The woman twisted slightly, but she didn’t seem to mind.

But I saw it. While embracing the woman, his other hand was unwrapping a chocolate bar from his pocket and stuffing it in his mouth. It looked pathetically sneaky.

“I’m hungry again already. Let’s clean up and pack more bread.”

The woman’s voice was heated.

“Fuck that. You pack the bread.”

“We ate it all.”

“Really? Then let’s clean up.”

For all their bad behavior, they’re not exactly environmentally conscious youth… are they? They put their clothes back on and fold the wrappers tightly. As the man puts the trash in his pocket and starts to leave,

“What are you doing? You’re not going to carry stuff like that, are you? What if you drop something?”

That stupid woman is hastening her own death.

“Then what?”

“Let’s go out the back door and throw it over the fence.”

No. Think again. Please don’t. Don’t you know trash goes in trash cans?

“Let’s do that.”

Fight.

The old me would never have dared. I’d never learned how to fight, never had a reason to.

It’s not just fighting. Walking while controlling my breathing. Running while watching in all directions. Setting traps… I’d seen characters do these things on screens, but I’d never done them myself.

But in this world, I can replicate all those movements. Movements I’ve seen so many times that they’re familiar to me. So far, they’ve worked well.

But physical combat—could I do that too?

I have to.

If not, I’ll die here. I can do it. Just do what I’ve seen. Like I’ve been doing so far—even if my mind doesn’t know how, my body remembers.

I grip the rifle tightly with both hands. Waiting for the man and woman to turn around the partition. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting… Now!

Thwack.

“Ugh!” I strike the woman’s neck with the rifle butt. “Kack!” She falls to her knees, clutching her throat. I kick her in the stomach.

“Wh-what?”

The man blocks the swinging rifle with his arm. Good, well done. I slash him with the hunting knife held in reverse grip.

“Gurk.”

Blood sprays. The man clutches his throat, making a hissing sound like steam escaping a kettle, then slumps against the wall.

“Hiiieeeek!”

The woman screams and tries to run. I strike her lower back with the rifle butt. “Kyaah!” I throw myself on top of her as she falls. I wrap my right arm around her neck and cover her mouth with my left hand.

“Kyaaah, mmph! Mmph! Mmmmph!”

The chokehold isn’t working as well as I’d hoped. She’s struggling too hard, desperately trying to avoid being strangled.

“Augh! Mmph! Help! Eeeek!”

With her mouth alternately covered and uncovered, her screams become increasingly strange. I whispered in her ear. She needs to relax.

“What’s the auction?”

“H-hieek?”

“Tell me. What’s the auction? Answer well and I’ll let you live.”

“L-local gang members c-come to buy slaves and goods. Y-your team is supposed to c-come later.”

“When?”

“In a-about two hours.”

“Where are the hostages?”

She doesn’t want to answer. I press harder on the side of her neck.

“Aggghhk… you… bastard…”

“The hostages. Where are they?”

“A-apple warehouse…”

Knock knock knock.

“I get that it’s been a while since you’ve burned one, but could you tone it down? I can hear everything.”

Both the woman and I froze. The guard had returned. Suddenly, the woman screamed at the top of her lungs.

“Hey, help me! Please help m—AAAGH!”

“What’s so good about it?”

“It’s n-not thaaaat, h-help, do s-something!”

“…Wait a minute. You two weren’t into that kind of stuff, were you?”

A confused, pressured voice. The woman’s eyes rolled back. I’d be frustrated too. So I answered for her.

“She says she wants to do it with you!”

“Hey. Sorry. As much as I appreciate it, that doesn’t seem right. I’m flattered, but…”

Strangling the woman harder, I shouted:

“See, I told you he can’t get it up! Or maybe he has different sexual preferences? You’re right—he can’t eat what’s offered! Just come in and have some bread instead!”

“Urrrrgghk! Aagh, ahurk!”

The woman finally went limp. Wow, she was really tough.

“Bread? You brought bread? You guys really…!”

I hear him leaning his gun against the wall outside. I stand with my knife at the corner of the back door. The door creaks open. He’s wearing body armor, but not the kind that protects the neck.

I raise the knife. Stab in one motion.

“…Guk.”

He freezes in place.

“…Fuck. I thought something was off… those two who were so into each other.”

“He’s dead.”

I kick the back of his knees, making him buckle. He collapses forward. He’s not breathing.

First, I stripped off his body armor. It was a bit awkward, but I managed to put it on without much difficulty. Bothered by the bloodstains, I took the Disease Crisis Management Agency jacket the woman had been wearing and put it on over the armor. Due to our size difference, it wouldn’t close, but that’s good enough.

None of the three had much on them. All I found was a spare handkerchief in the pocket of the man who had been on guard. It had “Lambert Police Station” embroidered on it, when I’d expected something like “XX Mountaineering Club” from the design.

That woman was a former police medic. The man was a gang member. The local police and gangs working together on looting, murder, human trafficking, and even running a human auction market.

‘Come to think of it, she said members from other organizations are coming too.’

This might be bigger than I expected.

“Good.”

I tied the red handkerchief around my neck in gang style. Now from a distance, I look like a Lambert gang member too.

A perfect costume for starting a fight.