Ch.42Chapter 6. The Price of a Name (7)

Stress test. It’s an examination to determine how long one can endure in a crisis situation, and if recovery is possible, to what extent.

I’m planning to conduct a stress test on those zombies.

The zombies in this world are similar to the ones I’ve fought countless times before, but they’re not exactly the same. There’s something different about them.

In the transmission tower forest, taunting worked on the forest keeper zombie. It charged at me furiously because it knew I was mocking it. So zombies can feel anger.

And what about when the flock of zombie crows flew in? The zombies were clearly flustered and tried to hide from the birds. This means zombies can experience fear.

Emotions.

Zombies have emotions. I’m not sure if they have intelligence, but they definitely seem to have feelings.

What if I could make zombies angry? If I could provoke them? Then perhaps it might also be possible to control them.

Actually, what I’ve been doing so far could broadly be considered zombie control. I’ve made zombies clash with gangs, or made zombies fight other zombies for my purposes.

But that’s just a replay of experience ingrained over 1,000 hours, a meaningless repetition. I don’t think that method is wrong, but it’s clearly a stagnant approach with no development.

This world isn’t the already-ruined world I knew. I arrived much earlier. Perhaps I came too early, before the time I was actually supposed to arrive.

So I too must change, learn, and adapt.

The humans in this world are using the zombie virus and zombies according to their own tastes. If that’s the case, I should be able to do the same.

In fact, my understanding of zombies should be far superior to theirs.

The situation before me is truly appropriate for learning. A gang with decent defensive systems but not particularly outstanding individual combat power facing zombies. It’s the optimal setting for various tests.

Looking down from Horseshoe Rock, the situation appears unfavorable for the zombies.

The civil servant gang has already established a defensive line. Two buses have arrived near the collapsed wall. They’re arranged in an S-shape, blocking the road while firing guns out the windows.

Bang bang, bang! Gunshots are still coming from the building Camilla entered. Unlike before, the gunfire is steady. Camilla can’t break through, but they can’t push her back either—a stalemate.

They’re handling things better than Lambert’s people, at least. Not only are their forces efficiently divided, but their skill in pulling back the defensive line is remarkable.

As the zombie horde’s momentum grows stronger, the buses are retreating. But they don’t pull back all at once.

Little by little, they move back in a zigzag pattern, careful not to block the gang members’ firing angles. It’s like trying to squeeze a car into a tight parking space.

I’d better help the zombie side.

Fortunately, the buses aren’t armored like Lambert’s fire trucks. They’ve only removed the windows, probably to prevent injuries. I lie down, aim my M4 carbine, raise it slightly, and fire.

It doesn’t matter if I hit. I just need to intimidate the ones shooting from the buses. Fire once and duck, fire again and duck. I hear “ping” and “thud” sounds from the front of Horseshoe Rock. They seem to have located my position.

“Grrrr!”

Thanks to me, the buses’ firepower is now divided. The zombie horde, which had hesitated, charges forward again.

The pattern itself is similar to what I’ve seen before.

Zombies have no sense of kinship. When one falls bleeding beside them, others crouch down to devour it, recognizing it as prey.

This naturally creates a barrier made of zombies. Just like how I shot approaching zombies at regular intervals in Lambert to create a defensive wall, the same thing is happening up ahead.

But it’s very different from Lambert. That was an open area, but this is a relatively narrow path. The buses can concentrate their firepower, but conversely, their firing angles are blocked by the “zombie obstacles.”

And now. Bang! Boom! I’ve just shot out all their tires, so they can’t move.

“Oh…”

As the buses tilt, the gang members inside lurch forward. None fell through the windows, but the sudden movement prevented them from shooting for a moment.

Then a phenomenon I’ve never seen before occurred.

The zombie obstacles clumped together into one mass. And instead of biting at it, the zombies ‘stepped’ on it and climbed up.

“Kreuaaaah!”

They thrust their heads and arms through the windows, clawing at the humans shooting at them. The humans inside the buses get tangled up trying to escape. The bus sways like a dying beast having its belly devoured.

Why are they acting like this? I try to put myself in their situation. Since I have high empathy, I might be able to understand zombies.

The current situation is like a beef dinner. If given a plate of beef to eat, I would gladly go and eat it.

But if presented with a meatball made of five whole roasted cows mashed together, with no fork, spoon, or plate, it would be very burdensome.

Perhaps zombies feel this burden too. They might not recognize something too large as prey. This suggests their cognition and thinking ability is similar to humans or even more primitive.

No. That’s not it. This is speculation. This hypothesis needs verification.

Rat-tat, ping! I ducked my head in surprise. Bullets ricocheted off the top of the rock. Seems like my position has been compromised. Below, zombies growl and look up in my direction.

That won’t do. I pick up a stone from the ground and throw it hard. The closest zombie gets hit in the jaw and falls. No, that’s too weak. I shoot its left leg with my carbine.

“Gyaaaak!”

The zombie loses balance and tumbles down the slope. It’s like rolling a bowling pin that knocks down all the other pins. Time to leave the rock.

One bus has disappeared. When did it vanish? An announcement blares throughout the resort.

– Control room broadcasting, control room broadcasting! Situation developing, situation developing! Everyone to battle stations! Everyone to battle stations! Reporting wall collapse behind the auditorium! Reporting wall collapse behind the auditorium! Engagement in progress at the shopping center! Engagement in progress at the shopping center!

“Ah, damn. How stupid of me.”

Why didn’t I think of that?

Right. The control room. It’s on the second floor of the country club building, which serves as the main building. There’s a CCTV room there, along with microphones connected to all speakers and broadcasting equipment.

The bus’s quick withdrawal was probably directed from that control room. CCTV. Broadcasts. Radios… these civil servant gang members are moving like they’re playing a strategy game.

I run along the left side of the rock while formulating a plan.

Unlike Lambert’s people, they don’t follow a pattern of swarming toward noise. They’re cunning and agile, like a spider lurking in the center of its web.

That leaves two options.

First, take out the spider itself—directly attack the control room and eliminate the leader. It’s the most direct and effective approach.

But I can’t use that method now.

The control room is in the center of the second floor of the main building. To get there, I’d need to pass through at least five more rooms, and judging by their armament and preparation level, it would be difficult to break through alone. There aren’t even windows there.

Another problem is that the main building is quite far from here.

Befitting its name as a country club with resort facilities, the main building is surrounded by golf courses and a lake. There are trees planted for golfers’ enjoyment, but it’s still an exposed area.

So although it will take some time, I’ll go with the second method, which is still definitely effective.

Cutting the strings.

Neutralizing each building where they’re holed up, one by one.

I don’t need to hit every building. The country club has about 20 buildings large and small, but that includes small one-room storage sheds. There are only four buildings that are important and meaningful.

One of them is the auditorium in front of me. The buses and defensive personnel probably came from here. So I don’t need to enter this one.

Another is the restaurant-cum-shopping center building where Camilla is currently engaged in combat. It’s at the eastern end. It’s too far from here, and the path is blocked by buses and zombie hordes.

I don’t need to go to the main building yet, so that leaves one place: the condominium building with various facilities.

I’ll hit the condominium, and Camilla will hit the restaurant and shopping center. The more commotion Camilla and I cause, the more likely the spider in the main building will panic and self-destruct.

“Camilla, hang in there!”

She won’t hear me, but I shouted deliberately. Zombies coming from the side path looked in my direction. I fired two shots into the air and ran forward. I could feel the crowd moving behind me.

I ran toward the fence. Fortunately, there was a side gate where I remembered. It was securely locked. With no time to unlock it, I shot at the gate hinges with my rifle. The rusty piece of metal split wide open. I pushed the gate aside and jumped in.

However, I didn’t immediately enter the building. I ran toward the guard post at the end of the fence. Thanks to Camilla’s sniping earlier, the post should be empty. As expected, I saw dead gang members lying there.

“Oh my.”

I can’t help but curse. They were wearing bulletproof vests, but they’d removed the armor plates, probably because they were heavy. The sniper rifle is a very sophisticated and good SG-1, but it’s been so poorly maintained that it’s covered in rust. If the bolt stop looks like this, I can imagine the state of the barrel.

“…Should have given it to me instead.”

I’ll have to make do with this. I crawled to the corner of the guard post with two sniper rifles. I could see the open view of the country club.

“Wow, they’re well-prepared.”

Not only had they surrounded the main building with buses and trucks, but they’d also placed sandbags around the tires. It looked like they were trying to protect the tires. The spacious parking lot was filled with expensive-looking cars. Each one was gleaming and well-maintained.

The car I was looking for is right there.

I took a deep breath, raised the sniper rifle, and fired a shot at that gleaming car. The car went berserk, setting off all kinds of alarms. Wheeee! Wheeee!

But one car seemed a bit lonely. I shot the car next to it, timing it with the theft alarm signal. The poor maintenance condition must be affecting accuracy, but I hit the car anyway.

Beeyooyoong! Beeyooyoong!

Bang! Bang! Bang!

This is it. Exactly the noise I wanted. An orchestra of car theft alarms creating a perfect syncopated dissonance. As creepy and extremely irritating as having a bug crawl into your ear.

“Kraaaah!”

The zombies that were fixated on the buses seem to feel the same emotion as me. The dog trainer was right. Continuous and repetitive sounds don’t just make dogs anxious. They make zombies anxious and frenzied too.

“That’s right.”

The zombies surged into the country club as if trying to bury the source of the sound. Like water spreading from a compressed hose, a shallow and wide wave of zombies spread far and wide.

A quiet realization filled my mind.

I knew zombies were sensitive to noise. That’s why I deliberately played the van’s dissonant music loudly. I knew they responded to strange sounds rather than normal ones.

But I hadn’t thought of this application.

A technique to irritate zombies, provoking annoyance and anger greater than hunger, directing them where I want.

Why hadn’t I thought of this before? I understand now. It’s because I had limited myself.

I could do more than I thought. It wasn’t a lack of ability. My thinking was just too narrow.

Imagine, advance, and seize. Then it will be achieved. So I imagine.

I made the zombies angry.

I can control zombies’ emotions!

The country club speakers blared all kinds of alarms. I tossed aside the sniper rifle. As I was about to leave the guard post, I noticed something bulging on the dead gang member’s chest.

“Oh.”

Flash grenades.

“Let’s share the good stuff.”

I quickly grabbed them. But I still couldn’t enter the building. Instead, I smashed the nearest car window with the butt of my gun. I opened the car door and stuffed a large flowerpot from the roadside onto the driver’s seat, pressing down on the horn.

Honk! Hooooonk! Hooooooonk!

So unpleasantly perfect.