Ch.40Chapter 6. The Price of a Name (5)

The faint smell of decay in the morning air was surprisingly refreshing. Perfect weather for saying goodbye.

“Thanks for everything.”

I patted the cash transport van as I bid it farewell. I’d managed to find radiator coolant, but it was a shame I couldn’t find a replacement for the van’s window. Being a special purpose vehicle, finding the exact matching glass proved impossible.

“I won’t forget you.”

I give the van one final inspection.

I propped all the doors wide open—driver’s side, passenger side, and the rear trunk. I secured them with wire to prevent them from closing. It would be troublesome if the doors closed during the drive, preventing me from shooting the gas canisters loaded in the cargo area.

I also checked the chains. One end was connected to the towing hook at the back of the vehicle, the other to the corpse cart. It had been quite a struggle, but I’d managed to do it, so I was satisfied with that.

Camilla and I met again at dawn. Until morning broke, we dragged the cart around, scraping together scattered zombies.

Maybe because it was still dawn, or perhaps because they didn’t recognize us as prey, the zombies moved at a leisurely pace, about as fast as a normal human walk.

Thanks to that, we calmly gathered the zombies, and now we’re waiting for them at the entrance of a path leading to the resort.

“…Are you sure this will make it all the way to the fence?”

Camilla looks decidedly unconvinced. I tried to reason with her politely.

“Think positive, not negative. If you believe, the whole universe will help you.”

“Try having that much faith in people too.”

“People aren’t the kind of beings who help just because you believe in them.”

“You helped that woman who got shot in this van. Actually, now that I think about it—were you trying to kidnap her? The one with the long, straight black hair.”

She seems to be talking about Cassandra. Makes sense, since Camilla was in the fire truck behind us and saw everything that happened up front.

“No. I was the one being kidnapped by her. Hey, what’s with that look? Why are you smiling?”

“If someone else had said that, I would have told them not to joke around, but coming from you, it’s somehow convincing.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Camilla waved her hand, trying to hold back her laughter.

“Something seemed off. At first, I thought you were taking her away, but looking closer, it wasn’t you—it was the woman who seemed determined not to let go of you. I thought it might be some kind of Rikia Syndrome.”

“What’s Rikia Syndrome?”

It’s truly the first time I’ve heard of this, but Camilla gives me another mischievous smile.

“Come on, don’t pretend you don’t know. It’s that incident from your country’s… no, from the capital of the Minsk Republic, Rikia. Where hostages empathize with their armed captors and end up protecting them.”

“That’s Stock—”

No, wait. There’s no Sweden here, no Stockholm either. So there’s no such thing as Stockholm Syndrome. Fortunately, Camilla didn’t seem to catch what I was about to say. Or maybe she had too many other questions to pay attention.

“You know, Johan, you seemed familiar with that woman. Your physical contact looked natural too.”

“No, I met her for the first time that day. Why are you asking?”

This time she crosses her arms and gives me a sidelong glance. With her head tilted down like that, she looks quite intimidating.

“What’s with the inconsistency? You got friendly with her in just one day, but you treat me like I’m some kind of explosive.”

“We weren’t that close. I just touched her chest a bit.”

“Oh? Well, that’s not a big—wait, what did you just say? You touched what?”

Camilla blinks rapidly. To be fair, I wouldn’t have believed it myself if I hadn’t experienced it.

“Well, she seemed pretty desperate. She said so herself. So…”

I don’t think I need to tell Camilla all the details about Cassandra. What good would come from gossiping about someone else?

“…She asked me to touch her chest, so I did.”

After saying it out loud, I realize the nuance sounds strange. Now Camilla’s forehead is turning red too. She’s even fanning herself repeatedly.

“Ah, haha. Um, well. Of-of course, everyone has different sexual preferences. Yes. Right. I guess it’s not something I should judge. But still, no matter how… urgent it was, asking a stranger to touch her chest…”

Oh dear. This is getting even more awkward.

“Camilla.”

This won’t do. I need to be a bit more serious.

“That woman was kept isolated, unlike the other hostages. She said she was going to be sold as a VIP’s personal slave. When people are thrown into extremely confusing situations, they can behave differently than usual. And I didn’t touch bare skin. It was over her clothes.”

Because I phrased things poorly, I’ve made Cassandra sound like some kind of pervert. That’s not right.

“R-right. Yes. That’s true. Yes. You’re right. Mm-hmm. Yes. When someone is shocked and confused, they might act that way. So you were comforting her. If that’s the case, well.”

Thankfully, the misunderstanding seems to have cleared up.

“So I told her to touch my chest too.”

“…Were you confused as well?”

“No, it’s just fair, isn’t it? Since I touched hers, she should touch mine too. She understood.”

Judging by how Camilla is now holding her forehead, she doesn’t understand at all.

“…You almost seemed cool there for a moment, until you added that last part. Never mind. Let’s pretend I didn’t hear that. Anyway, you weren’t trying to forcibly take someone away. Did I understand correctly?”

“Yes.”

“That’s all I needed to know.”

Camilla smiled, looking relieved. My interaction with Cassandra must have been bothering her quite a bit.

The putrid smell grows stronger in the wind. It’s time to move on to the next phase of the plan.

Once we proceed, we’ll both be quite busy. So this is the last chance to talk leisurely like this.

“Johan. Can I ask you one more thing?”

“Sure.”

Camilla cleared her throat awkwardly. I wonder what she wants to ask that makes her so serious.

“So, was it good?”

I blinked, not understanding what she meant.

“Don’t play dumb, Johan.”

“You left out the subject. Are you asking if the touching part was good, or being touched was good?”

Camilla’s expression immediately turned fierce. She pinched my sleeve tightly.

“Ow, ow, ow.”

When I pretended to be hurt playfully, she lightly punched me.

“Why on earth did you do that?”

“Well, to build mutual trust?”

“If that’s trust, I’d rather live without it.”

Camilla walked away with a swinging gait and picked up the rifle and pistol she’d placed in the van’s trunk. She turned them over, checking for any issues one last time.

I also gathered my carbine and magazines. Four magazines. 120 rounds. These are upgraded magazines that can hold the full 30 rounds instead of 28, with the feeding issue fixed.

“I’m glad, though,” Camilla murmured.

“About what?”

“That you’re not as bad a person as I thought.”

I wonder what she thought of me. As I watched her silently, she offered an explanation.

“Good at fighting but terrible at socializing, more afraid of people than zombies, and trying to kidnap women to run away with.”

“Is that still what you think?”

“Add ‘good at cooking’ to what I said earlier, remove the ‘kidnapping women’ part, and add… ‘strange person’?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“To be honest, I’m not sure. It’s natural since we haven’t known each other long, but I thought I’d met plenty of people in my life. You’re the first person I’ve met like you.”

Of course she would think that, I thought to myself. Then she extended her right hand.

It’s not a soft, delicate hand. Like someone who has fought for a long time, it has calluses on each knuckle, some parts taped, and rough skin. Tough, but still beautiful.

So I took it in mine. Camilla’s thumb slowly traced over my hand. But she’s gripping a bit too tightly for me to feel much else.

“…Camilla. You’re holding on a bit tight, aren’t you?”

“This is just a normal handshake. Normal people express trust like this. Not by touching each other’s chests over clothes, but by holding bare hands.”

“This feels like there’s some emotion behind it.”

Camilla pulled my hand. When I instinctively resisted, she wrapped her other arm around my waist. My balance shifted toward her. We were almost embracing. Camilla whispered in my ear.

“I had no other way to tell you.”

She let go abruptly and stepped back, looking at me over her shoulder. Like someone about to embark on a long journey, checking if they’ve left anything behind.

She said she would follow right after the zombies once the wall collapsed. If she’s going to rescue the slaves, that would indeed be the safest time to enter.

The gang members will likely abandon the slaves or deliberately set them free. They’ll use the time when the zombies are distracted by the slaves to counterattack from the rear defense line.

So for Camilla, sending zombies in first and following closely behind is advantageous. Of course, “advantageous” doesn’t mean it’s not reckless. Like how a log raft is safer than a rubber tube, but neither can cross the ocean.

It’s not my concern. It doesn’t interfere with the plan, and just as I’m doing my part, she’s doing hers.

Still, I can’t help but be curious.

“Just to confirm, you’re going in, right?”

“Yes. Nothing’s changed from the plan. We’ll do exactly as we discussed.”

“Don’t you think it’s dangerous?”

“Of course I do. But I don’t plan on dying. If there’s anyone in there, I’ll get at least one person out, and if there’s no one, I’ll run straight back out. I have enough skill for that… Wait, are you worried about me?”

She asked playfully. I answer lightly.

“No. To be honest, it seems like a foolish thing to do.”

“That’s okay. I am a fool, after all.”

When she puts it that way, there’s nothing more to say.

Camilla looked unburdened. The gentle wind somehow managed to stir her tightly bound hair. A single strand of red hair that had fallen beside her ear tickled her cheek.

“I’m honestly not that smart. I just simply deal with things one by one as they come, thinking that someday, good days will arrive. I’ve made wrong decisions every time, and there hasn’t been a day I didn’t regret something.”

She brushes even that single strand back and turns to look at me.

“But thanks to that, I got to meet interesting people like you.”

The sun must be high now; it’s getting a bit hot. I feel my face warming up.

“Be careful.”

“Johan?”

“What?”

“If we meet again alive, make me that stew one more time.”

“Sure.”

Camilla went off to do her part. Protecting the vehicle so it safely reaches the fence, and finally shooting the gas canisters in the cargo area to detonate them—that’s her job.

Now I need to do my part. Moving the car.

So I hung a pink princess bag on the driver’s seat headrest. I positioned it so the side with the printed Barbie doll giving an unpleasant wink faced forward. I hung clothes below the bag and even put a hat on top.

It became something more grotesque than a zombie, but from a distance, it should look reasonably human.