Ch.25Chapter 4. Lambert Drive (10)

A bubbling stew pot with ingredients bobbing up and down. That’s what Camilla thought of when they entered Rambert Village.

The smell of burning, flames shooting up everywhere, cars colliding in a chain reaction, exploding LPG gas tanks…

Camilla thought she was having absurd imaginings due to some strange hunger.

But she knew it was self-deception. That the situation before her eyes was so preposterous that this was a pitiful attempt to understand it by turning it into a caricature.

Everyone was laughing.

They laughed while shooting, while being shot. They laughed while flying through the air on motorcycles, while trucks rammed into each other in tests of strength, while shooting those who ran out ablaze after throwing Molotov cocktails over the checkpoint. Everyone was laughing.

All the gang members looked refreshed. They looked relieved, like when you finally destroy something precious with your own hands because protecting it had become too burdensome.

‘These people have no intention of surviving.’

Shadows seemed to cling to Camilla’s ankles, stretching out.

“Sister Camilla! What should we do?”

A man with a rifle shook her. Camilla snapped back to reality. She blinked away her tears.

“The situation is too dangerous! It’s a free-for-all! Those bastards aren’t just killing each other, they’re completely destroying this village!”

“We can’t confirm the prisoners’ location!”

Mouths. Mouths. Mouths. Those lips visible beneath balaclavas. Camilla was terrified.

‘Why, why do you keep leaving the decisions to me? We’re all the same. Just do what you want. Why do you keep giving me the authority to decide?’

The shadow at her feet whispers and giggles.

– Because you were the one who suggested coming. Didn’t you say we should go save people? Brave Camilla.

– The red-maned warhorse, hero of the homeland, red-haired Camilla. Come on, this is what you’re good at. Act. Hurry. Pretend to be strong. Camilla, the warrior’s guide!

Camilla wanted to scream. ‘Please, someone give orders in my place.’

“I… I… I…”

“What? What did you say?”

“Sister! Look at that! I can see Disease Control vehicles!”

It was true. A convoy of vehicles with the Disease Crisis Management Bureau emblem clearly visible.

They had their sirens on and were honking, but for some reason they couldn’t get out, just repeatedly moving forward and backward.

“The alley is blocked on both sides! Looks like there was a collision! They can’t get out!”

They were like rats trapped in a cage.

“The vehicle’s movement seems strange. Were they shot?”

There was definitely something sluggish about it. Camilla increased the magnification on her binoculars.

There was no driver. She felt like screaming but held it in and looked more carefully. She could see something resting on the steering wheel. The wriggling, squirming things were toes.

“…Driving with feet? Why?”

Just then, the wind blew and cleared the smoke. With better visibility, she could see more clearly inside the car. People were lying in layers, with someone steering with their feet, and someone else pressing the pedals.

The person in the passenger seat was moving their mouth frantically. They seemed to be giving driving instructions, but their posture—with their back lifted from the seat—looked extremely uncomfortable.

‘Handcuffs. Those people are handcuffed. Their hands are tied behind their backs. That’s why they’re struggling so much. They are the prisoners!’

All three vehicles were the same. The cars looked relatively sturdy, but not enough to push away the metal wreckage blocking the road.

“Get down!”

Reflexively, all liberation fighters ducked. There was a sound of something being smashed, and then a column of water extended from behind to the front.

It was water mixed with a pungent smell, tear gas solution. A smell all liberation fighters hated. A smell they would never forget until they died.

An armored fire truck appeared through the dust.

She didn’t know what they had done to the engine, but it maintained power despite all the armor plating haphazardly attached to it.

They had even attached a bulldozer wedge to the front. Whether it was being manually operated from inside the vehicle, the crane swiveled back and forth, shooting water cannons in all directions.

Five people were blown away at once. A wooden wall crumbled and splintered as if punched, and soon the ceiling collapsed as well. Even for a temporary building, the power was grotesquely overwhelming.

“…Let’s use that. With that, we can push away the cars blocking the road and clear a path.”

“But how?”

“I’ll drive it. Hurry and get ready!”

The liberation fighters leaped across rooftops like squirrels. Bullets whizzed past them with soft whistling sounds. Debris flew from buildings collapsing in explosions.

“Ugh!”

Camilla staggered momentarily after being hit by debris in the back.

“Sister!”

“It’s not a bullet. Run, hurry!”

Of all places, she’d been hit squarely in the right shoulder blade. It wasn’t powerful enough to penetrate the bulletproof vest, but the burning sensation in her muscles was concerning.

The fire truck entered the street like a leisurely tyrant. They were also firing from inside the truck through gun ports, and the muzzle flashes were clearly visible.

Naturally, they couldn’t penetrate the much lower gun ports from the top of buildings. But the armor plating was thick and sturdy, enough to attempt a ricochet shot.

Camilla decided to try that approach. After confirming her comrades were in position for an ambush, she raised her rifle.

“Goddess of Hunger.”

Camilla trusted her K11 SWS rifle. She recalled the shooting instructor’s words that if you trust your gun, it will always reward you. But as soon as she shouldered it, a tearing pain shot through her shoulder.

“G-grant me your p-patience.”

She pressed the rifle more firmly against her body. If the shouldering is unstable, the gun will follow that instability. Trust isn’t shown through thoughts but through actions. She needed to express how much she trusted it. She needed to reassure the gun.

“W-when I enter the p-path of pain and s-suffer.”

Two flames alternately flashed from the gun port. Carefully, she lowered the muzzle slightly. Aiming at the edge of the gun port, where the armor plating was solidly welded, forming a peculiar slope.

“Add to my final b-breath!”

Two gunshots. The bullets hit the slope with a “ta-kang, ki-king” sound and ricocheted.

“Aaaagh.”

A gang member hit by the ricochet fired his gun involuntarily. His uncontrolled gun danced wildly. Like condiments squeezing out when pressing a sandwich, blood spurted out from the gun port.

Camilla quickly turned her muzzle toward the driver’s seat. The armor plating here was even denser. It was covered with something like a perforated plate with densely drilled round holes. But since the gaps were smaller than bullets, this was sufficient.

“I shall return it to you!”

One shot. Enduring the tearing pain in her muscles, another shot at the same spot. The first bullet cracked the bulletproof glass. The following bullet shattered the glass and lodged in the driver’s shoulder.

The steering wheel jerked, but the vehicle was so slow and heavy that it didn’t tip over. Instead, it slid and demolished a nearby house.

The driver’s and passenger’s doors opened, and hands holding guns emerged like snail antennae. The liberation fighters kicked the doors. The arms caught between the car and doors dropped their guns. The fighters pushed the doors open and fired inside. They dragged out the bullet-riddled bodies.

“Get in, Sister!”

The liberation fighters threw smoke grenades and flares. The smoke concealed Camilla’s body, and the flares illuminated the path ahead. Camilla ran down and took position between the driver’s and passenger’s seats.

She turned on the siren. She honked the horn. Like a ferocious rhinoceros charging, the fire truck, covered in dust and building debris, sped forward, pushing away the cars blocking the road.

“Disease Crisis Management Bureau vehicles, Disease Crisis Management Bureau vehicles! We are from the Elza Liberation Front! We’ll clear a path, so follow us out! I repeat! We are the Elza Liberation Front! We’ll open a path, so get out!”

Short and long horn sounds came from the management bureau vehicles. A signal that they understood. The man with the rifle turned the steering wheel sharply. The fighter in the passenger seat raised and lowered various levers.

“Ah, I get it now!”

When she pressed a button, water shot forward. It blew back the gang members who were charging aggressively. The fire truck moved again. It pushed forward, shoving aside the metal and building debris blocking the road.

“The management bureau vehicles are following us! Keep going!”

Swoosh.

A chilling sound was heard. Then a loud boom. Everyone in the car covered their ears. A strange groan spread as the metal frame bent. With a “kwaa” sound, tear gas solution sprayed in all directions.

Bang! The shattered crane rolled off the side of the fire truck.

“…RPG!”

A gang member blocking the road came into view. The gold lettering “Explosion Angel” gleamed brilliantly on his white coat. He had an RPG on his shoulder, aiming directly at the fire truck.

No matter how armored it was, this was a fire truck, not a tank. It would inevitably be penetrated.

Just then.

A black van burst through the adjacent building. It rammed the gang member straight into the wall.

The rocket fired into the air exploded futilely. The words “Emergency Cash Transport Vehicle” written on the van were clearly visible.

The driver’s door opened. A man and woman tumbled out. For some reason, they were punching each other.

But the woman had the upper hand. She wrapped her legs around the man’s waist and buried her face in his chest. Camilla had the absurd thought that with such a large chest, suffocation would be possible.

“…That woman is wearing a Disease Crisis Management Bureau jacket?”

But the man’s strength was considerable too. He lifted the woman up from that position and climbed back into the driver’s seat.

Camilla couldn’t take her eyes off the pink “Pink Princess” bag attached to the man’s back.

“Just step on it!”

* * * * *

“I can’t see ahead, so move!”

I shouted, trying somehow to throw her off, but if I did that, I’d probably be dragged down too, like before. This woman’s strength is no joke. She’s incredibly strong.

“The liar tells another lie. I can see Cassandra’s chest.”

And she’s crazy too.

“All I can see is your chest! I need to see the road! Stop patting my head and move, please! We’ll both die!”

I was stupid. I should have shot her earlier. But my arms were sore from moving cargo in the garage van, so I couldn’t.

Instead, I threw her off and jumped into the driver’s seat. That part was fine. The problem was that this woman’s arm strength and grip were beyond prediction.

She jammed a knife into the closing door crack and instantly opened it. As she tried to climb on top of me, I accidentally stepped on the pedal while floundering.

The van slid forward and crashed into something, but I couldn’t see ahead. We tumbled out of the driver’s seat together, and when I tried to throw her off, she now gripped my upper body tightly with her legs and arms.

“Argh, really!”

Bullets whizzed past my ears, but this woman seemed oblivious. I lifted her up completely and got back into the driver’s seat.

This is troublesome. The road is a mess. Cassandra’s body, straddling my thighs, bounces up and down. The pressure from her chest intensifies, and the situation below is no less problematic.

“Cassandra is sad. Talking about dying is bad. Stop saying bad things.”

“I’m suffocating here!”

“Ah, how enviable. Johan dies with his nose buried in Cassandra’s chest. Cassandra dies with her heart pierced by rebar. Ah, to die just for riding next to a poor driver. Poor Cassandra. Who will ring the bell for me and dress my coffin? Going like this without ever having a boyfriend. Ah, fleeting youth. How pitiful.”

This won’t do. I need to shoot her.

But weapons are a problem. The rifle is too long and keeps getting caught. The M4 is a bit shorter in comparison, but it’s the same issue.

Bang, bang! Something is exploding nearby, but I can’t tell what. I barely manage to avoid walls, moving in a zigzag pattern. Meanwhile, I reach out with my right hand to grab the M4 placed on the passenger seat.

Rattle! The car vibrates up and down, causing bullets to fire randomly.

“Aaaah!”

Someone got hit, it seems. Unfortunately, not Cassandra. Continuously bouncing her body up and down, Cassandra whispers.

“Johan. I’ll give you a choice. Cassandra is being very generous here.”

“What nonsense are you spouting now?”

“Either raise Cassandra, or become a pet human. Which do you prefer?”

“Neither.”

“Then what do you want to do, Johan? You must have something you want too. What do you live for, what do you fight for, why… are you staying by Cassandra’s side like this? Not leaving the side of such a bad, wicked woman.”

What should I say to a woman who talks nonsense while gently cupping my cheek and making eye contact? The latter part of what she said doesn’t seem worth addressing.

As for my purpose, well, it’s nothing special.

“I’m going to get out of here.”

“And then?”

“I’m going to survive and live on, even through the end of the world.”

Cassandra stares at me blankly.

She held her breath for a moment, but her chest heaved even more. Thanks to that, I turned the steering wheel at a rather precarious moment. I hit someone else with an “aargh,” but that seems to be the fault of whoever was standing in the road, not mine.

“You. You know.”

Her green pupils dilate. Her cheeks flush. A smile spreads across her face. It’s a smile of ecstasy. A face blooming wide like a flower opening its private parts to welcome a bee.

In love?

No.

The face of a woman who has gone mad with love.

“W-what?”

“You know about the end. You know about the inevitable end. Cassandra has always said it. Cassandra has always spoken and predicted, but no one would listen. The trigger for the Erysichthon Protocol is…!”

It’s surprising that this woman has the presence of mind to be cautious. She stops mid-sentence.