Ch.41Chapter 6. The Price of a Name (6)

I started the engine and turned on the radio. I carefully adjusted the frequency until the voice came through clearly. A station broadcasting news in a mechanical voice came on.

From here, I turn the dial a little more. Clear voices and crackling static mix in equal measure.

If it were just static, I’d ignore it, but when intelligible voices intermingle with the noise, my irritation doubles. That’s human nature. I don’t think zombies made from human templates would be much different.

So I turned the volume up to maximum. The sound amplified inside the van with all its doors wide open, spreading far and wide.

I released the gear, placed a rock on the accelerator, and secured the steering wheel with a rod. The van slowly moved forward. Thinking it was a bit slower than expected, I added another heavy rock. The speedometer needle gradually tilted upward.

The van swayed up and down, dancing as it moved forward. The chain connected to the corpse cart swung, but fortunately, the cart didn’t tip over.

I checked if the zombies were following well from behind, then climbed up the nearby cliff. There’s a horseshoe-shaped depression in the rock at the top, making it a good spot to hide and observe.

Reflective light flashed from guard posts at both ends of the resort. As expected, there were snipers. No sooner had they aimed than blood splattered from their heads and they collapsed.

Bang! The gunshot echoed around. It was Camilla who fired.

Silencers don’t just reduce the sound of firing. Some, like Camilla’s, spread the sound to make it difficult to locate the position.

It had some effect on the zombies too. Quite a few specimens stopped when the gunshot spread.

But soon they focused on the van that was spewing irritating noise while dancing along.

A loud alarm sounded from inside the resort. But it was too late. Thud. A collision sound. The van had crashed into the wall.

Something flashed. I covered my ears and ducked.

An explosion erupted.

“Ugh…”

A groan escaped even though I covered my ears.

I couldn’t regain my senses through the ringing in my ears. With crashes and thuds, debris from the van and collapsed wall scattered everywhere.

– Warning! Warning! Emergency evacuation! Warning! Warning! Fire outbreak, fire outbreak!

Loud warning sounds came from the resort. That must be the emergency siren. The zombies’ excitement reaches all the way up here.

Bang!

To make matters worse, some stupid gang member fired a shot in panic. He didn’t even hit anything, it seems. Zombies flailed their limbs and rushed into the resort through the collapsed wall.

Somehow that gang member reminded me of the Dutch boy. The one who discovered a crack in the dam and plugged it with his finger all night, fearing it would collapse.

The boy, now grown up, threw away his gun and fled. I watched carefully where he was running to. He seemed to be fleeing toward the largest and widest main building.

‘…There are more zombies than I expected.’

Fire and black smoke rose from the exploded van. The fire didn’t spread, but the chaotic gunfire from the resort was attracting all the zombies in the vicinity.

Now not just people, but animals too were gathering.

A pack of wild dogs I’d seen before pounced on an injured human zombie that had foolishly touched the fire. Zombie humans and zombie dogs tried to tear each other apart and devour one another.

There was no sign of vehicles moving inside the resort. They seemed to have formed a defensive line inside. I could see zombies moving, flames rising somewhere, and buildings being torn apart piece by piece.

They gradually transformed into familiar sights.

Exactly like the devastated resort I remember. Everything from the forcibly torn entrance door pushed all the way to the parking lot, to wall fragments embedded in the building walls causing the exterior to collapse.

I even feel a petty satisfaction.

Like when you swiftly push a water glass slightly protruding from the edge of a desk to a safe place.

Like watching a hair stuck to a stranger’s back finally blown off by the wind after wondering if it would fall.

Like when you deliberately rearrange volumes 4 and 5 of a neatly aligned series from volumes 1 to 10 because they were switched.

Yes. This is the resort I remember. The unfamiliarity of comfort feels like falling asleep on the shoulder of someone whose face you don’t know.

What is this feeling?

At the far end, I see a black dot climbing over the resort fence. It’s Camilla. She finally went over the wall.

She said she would do her job and I should do mine. I was planning to do that anyway. Wait here, cherry-pick the good stuff…

But I keep thinking about our conversation yesterday.

As if I’m missing something.

* * * * *

Yesterday in the warehouse, I asked Camilla why she was trying to enter such a dangerous place to find slaves whose existence was uncertain.

Camilla’s answer was that she couldn’t tolerate Elza people enslaving other Elza people.

“I’ll just tell you the truth. Right now, Römer rules us, but before that, Minsk from the Western countries ruled us. As you well know…”

“Camilla. Just talk to me as if I don’t know anything.”

When Camilla hesitated, I quickly added:

“I just want to know your perspective on the current situation.”

“My perspective? Why?”

“I want to understand why you’re doing this.”

In truth, this was an excuse.

The information I know is fragmented and scattered. I needed a thread to string together all these miscellaneous beads into one story, one narrative.

And Camilla took my request quite seriously. She occasionally gave me looks that said “you know this, right?” but she was still quite concise.

Elza is a country sandwiched between Minsk in the west and Römer in the east. It has vast land, abundant natural resources, and fertile soil, but its population is much smaller than Minsk and Römer.

This is because people have been dying from constant attacks by Minsk and Römer for nearly a thousand years. Except for very brief periods, Elza has never had an independent government. It has always been under the rule of either Römer or Minsk.

The reason Elza hasn’t disappeared is because of the “curse.” Not a curse in the magical sense, but a political and economic dilemma known as “Elza’s Curse.”

Elza’s land is so vast and resource-rich. If someone decides to hide somewhere, it’s difficult to find them until they build up their forces.

So the Elza people never submitted. Despite all that time, they still maintained their identity as Elza people and persistently fought back.

Family. Relatives. Neighbors. Someone always died at the hands of Römer and Minsk. Not a single generation was spared. Hatred and vengeance snowballed through generations. The result manifested as endless struggle.

Whichever country was stronger between Minsk and Römer would take Elza, but at that moment, they would waste enormous administrative and military resources. While struggling to digest Elza, the other country would gather strength, strike at their weakness, and take Elza back—a vicious cycle.

This is Elza’s curse.

Perhaps they learned from numerous follies. Eventually, Minsk and Römer made an agreement. A treaty to divide Elza in half for shared rule.

The west was governed by Minsk, the east by Römer. The two countries didn’t rule Elza directly. They installed proxies made up of Elza people.

They carefully selected and placed those loyal to them, those who could trample others like insects for their purposes. Leaders, officials, soldiers, police, teachers, and nurses…

“It’s no surprise that police, firefighters, and court officials turned into gangs. They were always that kind of people.

Though born in Elza, they want to become Römer or Minsk people. They try to prove themselves by oppressing the ‘inferior’ Elza people, but in the eyes of the real natives, they just look like monkeys imitating humans.

That’s why they can’t leave the human non-protected zones. They know what position they’d be in the moment they leave here.”

I thought of the soldiers in the helicopter.

“Are the National Gendarmes like that too?”

“It’s mixed. The officers are either dispatched from Römer or collaborators thoroughly indoctrinated in Römer ideology. They know that Elza’s autonomous police are no better than thugs.

That’s why they station the Gendarmerie despite having police. There’s also the intention to prevent attacks.”

“What attacks?”

“Counterattacks from Minsk. If Minsk attacks while the National Gendarmerie is on guard, it would automatically trigger military intervention against Elza and Römer.”

The treaty between Minsk and Römer lasted a long time, but relations between the two countries grew increasingly hostile. This was because Minsk’s national power grew stronger day by day, disrupting the balance of power.

Minsk successfully established a political system of unlimited competition, free market economy, and corporate state alliance.

In contrast, Römer introduced a parliamentary dictatorship. The term “parliamentarian” was just a fancy title given to the aristocratic and military families that had ruled Römer for generations.

Both countries claimed to be democratic republics, but that was just a facade. However, it was obvious to anyone that Minsk was ahead of the rigid state of Römer.

Finally, ten years ago, Minsk declared war, claiming ownership of Elza.

Their momentum was impressive. Minsk’s soldiers were professionals equipped with high-end gear and well-paid. In contrast, Römer’s were volunteers who came for an extra bowl of potato soup.

And ten days later, Minsk declared complete surrender.

Römer’s high-altitude bombers precisely hit twelve of Minsk’s secret underground bunkers. The president, prime minister, and all deputy ministers died; the chairmen and boards of five corporate alliances disappeared; and the integrated command center coordinating the tactics, strategies, and communication networks of the five corporations completely collapsed.

Overnight, Minsk was blinded, deafened, and had its limbs cut off. The army that had entered with such momentum sold their equipment to the Elza people and fled.

What happened afterward was even more chaotic. It was clear that Römer had infiltrated spies, but no one knew how they did it.

The five corporations accused, denounced, slandered, and exposed each other according to their interests, and the nation’s fortunes declined day by day.

Meanwhile, Römer occupied the rest of Elza, established a puppet government, and forced them to sign a ridiculous contract stating “Minsk supports Elza’s independent sovereignty.”

Minsk generally agreed but set a condition: to remove heavy equipment like tanks, armored vehicles, and fighter jets from Elza territory.

Römer accepted this seemingly noble condition “For the peace of our time.” If another full-scale war broke out, Römer would also suffer great damage.

Elza fell into Römer’s hands, but the situation changed. Minsk’s high-grade military equipment was released through the black market, and demand and supply increased.

People dreaming of Elza’s independence engaged in armed uprisings, and Römer, trying to completely crush Elza at this opportunity, continued its intense suppression.

And then the zombie outbreak happened.

“The Römer bastards did what they always do. They divided areas into protected and non-protected zones. They built high walls and are monitoring closely to prevent the disease from spreading further. The western Minsk is doing the same.”

“So here is…”

“The non-protected zone has become a complete lawless area. In the long term, people in this land have two choices.

Become zombies and die slowly, or cross over to the human protected zones where Römer is establishing a new order. Die in a trash can or live in a livestock pen.”

As I listened quietly, I felt a strange sense of dissonance. Something was off. Is this right? But at that time, I didn’t know exactly what it was, so I just let it pass. Camilla added:

“I’ve never seen helicopters in the human non-protected zone before. Usually, helicopters only fly in protected zones to attack people staging armed uprisings.

It’s convenient for Römer too, right? Too many of Minsk’s weapons are in circulation. It’s difficult to suppress them all.

So they don’t care whether people in non-protected zones live or die. Instead, they focus on maintaining order in protected zones. Everything is censored and controlled there. In the end…”

“Elza will lose even its weapons.”

“Right. They only ‘manage’ zombies, not ‘eradicate’ them. They don’t have the resources or ability.

Due to the treaty, there are no tanks or fighter jets in Elza, only small arms. Not to mention the miserable administrative power. It’s not a normal country.”

Camilla smiled, but she looked strangely sad.

“People call liberation front fighters dreamers. They say an independent Elza government is an illusion. They’re right. We’ve rarely had our own government.

But… you don’t necessarily need to get the right answer. If you eliminate obviously wrong answers one by one, what remains will be the right answer. And slavery is definitely a wrong answer. Elza people should treat other Elza people as equals.”

* * * * *

Loud gunshots rang out. The sound came from where Camilla had infiltrated. The gunfire continued from one end of the building to the other. It meant she was alive and moving.

Unconsciously, I thought it was fortunate.

Fortunate?

Is this fortunate?

Blinking my eyes, I look at the situation below again. Zombies continue to enter the resort.

The people inside have formed a defensive line and are holding up well, but they’ll all die soon. There are too many zombies and the defensive line is scattered. At this rate, they’ll be picked off one by one.

Why aren’t these people worried about zombies?

Even Camilla seems a bit strange. She talked about zombies as if they were just a common cold.

Instead, she talked about patriotism, hatred for Römer and Minsk, and love for her people.

Eradicating the zombie virus isn’t a priority.

They fear, hate, and dislike other humans more.

The thought of extinction due to zombies isn’t even in their calculations. Rather, they’re using the virus as a political tool.

These people don’t even have a sense of vigilance about zombies. They’re all too complacent. I now understand why Cassandra told me, “Only you speak of the end.”

I’m not the only one using zombies. Everyone in this land is doing the same.

Somehow. I understand why I felt strangely comfortable. I know the identity of this familiarity.

I was just an ordinary human in this world.

“…But I’m the one who knows zombies best here.”

Correction. I am the most ordinary yet smartest human in this world.

“I need to run some tests.”