Ch.39Chapter 6. The Price of a Name (4)

I shared my plan with Camilla. She listened quietly and only reacted after a long while, looking at me, then at the map, then back at me.

“…It’s a recreation of Rambert.”

She’s right.

I’m going to attach zombie corpses to a van filled with LPG gas tanks. After luring as many zombies as possible, I’ll detonate the van close to the wall.

When zombies detect the commotion and gather, the resort’s gang members will surely counterattack. My plan is to wait until one side gains the upper hand, then infiltrate.

“Remember those houses we visited? They had two or three gang marks painted on their doors, right? To show it was their territory.

But this resort has only one mark. It means since the Court-City Hall civil servant alliance took it over, they’ve never lost it. That indicates strong defenses, and we can’t just walk up to a place like this, you and me. It’s beyond our capabilities.”

“So you’re planning to ‘borrow’ forces? By drawing in zombies.”

Fortunately, she seems to understand.

“That’s right, Camilla. I’m not sure how many zombies will gather. But when the two forces clash, one of two things will happen. Either the gang members will stubbornly hold out inside, or they’ll quickly flee.”

“Flee?” Camilla asked in surprise.

“Well, if it were me, I’d have such a contingency plan. These guys already lost quite a few members in Rambert. I don’t know how many they have left, but maintaining this large property must be burdensome. So they’d want to move to somewhere smaller but safer. They might even have evacuation preparations in place.”

“Then what will we do?”

“First, we’ll make them clash, then observe the situation from nearby. If they hold out inside? As I said before, we wait until the battle concludes, then strike. By then, we’ll have some idea of their defensive facilities and traps, and most importantly, that’s when they’ll be most psychologically vulnerable.

Even if they try to escape, there’s nothing to worry about. You saw how they’ve barricaded the entrances. It’ll take them quite some time to clear the obstacles to get their vehicles out. We’ll move to advantageous positions—here, here, and here—snipe them, steal their vehicles, and escape. That would make things even easier.”

I pointed to spots I’d already identified. They’re well-known sniper positions—places where I can see in all directions while the enemy doesn’t know where I am.

“…How do you know all this?”

Camilla shook her head, seemingly appalled. But this time, I had an excuse.

“It’s on the map, that’s how I know.”

“Well, someone like you…”

I wonder what she’s thinking that makes her swallow her words. Well, it’s probably not important.

“Anyway, that’s my plan. I won’t claim it’s 100% guaranteed to succeed. No one knows what might happen. But the advantages of this plan are that no one gets hurt, and even if it fails, our losses are minimal. At worst, we lose one van with a broken drivetrain, which is a worthwhile investment.”

“That’s true.”

“Camilla, what do you want to do?”

Camilla looks at me with a complicated expression.

Her calm golden eyes were like the sea at sunset. Beautiful and brilliant, but suggesting darkness would follow. A color that suits her red hair well.

“You can do it if you want, or not if you don’t feel like it. Actually, just helping me move the LPG tanks was enough. I didn’t tell you the entire plan from the beginning to avoid burdening you unnecessarily.

That’s our agreement, right? We work together, but live separately. No forcing each other to do things we don’t want to do. And if we decide it’s not beneficial to move together, then we part ways.”

It’s a plan I can handle alone. Having Camilla would make things considerably easier, but I don’t intend to force her. I don’t want her to force me either, so I shouldn’t force her.

“…You don’t need to remind me, I remember. It hasn’t been that long.”

Her tone suggested she was slightly hurt. She bit her lower lip slightly, then nodded.

“I’m curious about something. According to your plan, our timing to enter is after almost everything is over, right?”

“Yes. That’s the safest approach.”

“Would it interfere with your plan if I went in earlier?”

Camilla pointed at the resort.

“Why would you do that?”

“Because if there are slaves, I need to get them out.”

Now it was my turn to stare blankly at her. Camilla muttered with a confident tone.

“No, there definitely will be slaves. Why else would they participate in the Rambert slave auction if they weren’t using slaves?”

“But we didn’t see any slaves.”

To be precise, we barely saw any guards, let alone slaves. Though the white smoke rising from the building’s chimney clearly indicated people were inside.

“Right, we didn’t. That’s normal. Most slaves are kept in dark places, and they’re never gathered together. Unless they’re ‘supplied’ to individual gang members’ rooms.”

“Supplied?”

“Slaves are treated as consumables. As you know, in human non-protected zones, both masters and slaves are hungry. And they don’t know the coping method you showed me.

Gangs implement strict food rationing. They’ve probably noticed this hunger is abnormal and there’s no proper solution. But complaints are inevitable.

So instead, they ‘supply’ slaves as outlets for frustration. Like dolls that can be handled roughly.”

I recall the warehouse in Rambert. The man and woman who were pretending to have sex while secretly stealing food. How satisfying sexual desires wasn’t a concern, but satisfying hunger was punishable by ‘terrible’ consequences even by outlaw standards.

“Johan, one of the Central Liberation Front’s main tasks was rescuing such slaves. Partly for image management, but when you actually see people in that situation, you can’t help but take them out.”

“But Camilla, not all slaves might be innocent. Some might be gang members who lost power struggles and were forced into slavery. If that’s the case…”

“You mean they deserve it, is that what you’re saying?”

Camilla tapped her fingers on the table. She seemed to be organizing her thoughts, so I waited.

“Johan, I don’t think all slaves are innocent either. Some might stab me in the back after I rescue them, and some might be in such a state—physically or mentally—that death or becoming a zombie would be better. I’ve seen enough broken people.”

“Yet you still want to rescue them?”

“I do. I do… No, it’s not such a grand reason. I simply can’t stand Elsa people enslaving other Elsa people.

Johan, honestly, I don’t care if these gang members become zombies or worse beasts. I don’t care if I shoot them dead. The slaves? They might have been equally terrible humans. But that doesn’t matter. What I hate is the system itself, not the people.”

Camilla’s eyes grew clearer, and her voice became resolute. It meant she knew exactly what she was saying. She was full of conviction.

“But I don’t want to ruin your plan. So tell me, would it interfere if I rushed in there?”

If I said it would interfere, Camilla wouldn’t go in. But that would be a lie. A blatantly obvious lie.

Camilla managed to find me without any clues. Her tracking skills, perseverance, and situational judgment might even surpass mine.

Rather than awkwardly evading, it’s better to be honest.

“It doesn’t matter. My goal is to destroy both zombies and the gang.”

“Then I’ll go in. You don’t have to come. That’s our deal, right? ‘Do what you want, don’t do what you don’t want. No forcing, no being forced.’ You do your thing. I’ll do mine.”

Now she’s throwing my own words back at me.

I have no complaints. I’m just curious about her reasons.

I asked, and Camilla answered.

* * * * *

Evening has fallen. We parted ways, each carrying our own equipment.

“See you tomorrow morning, alive.”

“Keep in touch.”

Camilla waved her radio with a bright smile. I waved mine back.

We might work together, but we live separately. That’s our rule. I don’t know where Camilla sleeps. She doesn’t know where I sleep. It’s safer for both of us that way.

The shelter I found is a fire lookout tower. By placing only half my foot on each step of the metal stairs as I climbed, I avoided making creaking sounds.

The top is somewhat enclosed by windows and thin metal walls, enough to shield from rain and wind. Since nights aren’t cold anyway, it’s comfortable to lie down on a blanket.

Of course, I didn’t just lie down right away.

While the sun was still up, I disassembled and thoroughly cleaned my gun. My M4 carbine is still serving me well, but even with such meticulous cleaning, the day will come when I’ll need to replace the barrel.

I washed my hands and ate cold stew from my mess tin. It tasted quite good. I considered heating it with solid fuel, but no. Even with small things, I should develop the habit of conserving resources.

The time now shows 7 PM. Time to sleep. Zombies and wild animals become active late at night. Predators rest in the morning and daytime, and move at night.

Sleep wouldn’t come. I toss and turn, recalling the story Camilla told me.

The creators of “Erisichthon Protocol” weren’t much interested in storytelling. Users didn’t complain about the lack of narrative either.

When you’re surrounded by zombies that deserve to be shot dead and hostile users intent on killing you and looting all your items, and you happen to have a double-barrel shotgun in your hands?

Who cares about the story? Better to kill one more enemy with that time.

But the developers didn’t completely abandon narrative. From what I’ve seen, they included random tips in item descriptions or minimap tooltips. Things like “Model Camilia” or “Cybele Food Company.”

Because of that, my knowledge is fragmentary and disjointed. What human non-protected zones are, why civil servants, police, and firefighters have become gangs. What the military police is, and what the Liberation Corps does—none of it seemed particularly important.

In fact, I still don’t want to care much about it.

Things that deserve to be killed, things that don’t need to be killed, things that can’t be killed with guns, and things that can. My criteria for viewing the world are incredibly simple.

Getting a good haul and moving to the “bunker” I know about. If there’s anything to care about, that’s it.

That was before my conversation with Camilla.

Before I realized this world is much more twisted than I thought.