Ch.43Chapter 6. The Price of a Name (8)

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Second Floor of the Main Clubhouse.

Court-Civil Servant Alliance gang members bustled about. They opened gun cabinets to distribute rifles and filled magazines with bullets from ammunition boxes.

But they were incredibly clumsy.

Some hurt their fingers while loading bullets into magazines, others tried to persuade others to exchange their newly received guns because they were too heavy, and one member was even hiding under a desk muttering, “We’re all going to die.”

The country club was their fortress. Everyone firmly believed they were invincible within its walls.

They had conducted makeshift defense drills and gained confidence after repelling several half-hearted attacks. Eventually, the country club became known as a fortress that no one would dare to challenge.

But morale had been shaken since losing half their forces at Rambert. There were heated debates about whether they should relocate since they didn’t have enough manpower to defend this place, but the leadership opposed the idea.

Their reasoning was that they had survived just fine until now with no immediate threats, and above all, they could always recruit more gang members.

‘Who would attack us anyway?’

They were aware of their complacency. But as the leadership said, “We’ve been fine until now, so what’s the big deal about being temporarily weakened?” This mentality was strong.

They weren’t the only ones who suffered at Rambert. All gangs had taken heavy hits, especially the police gang, which had completely evaporated.

So who would attack them here? It was unthinkable. And it would have remained so if some madman hadn’t driven a horde of zombies through the walls, breaking in and smashing all the CCTV cameras.

“Another one’s gone out!”

A shout erupted from the monitoring section. About one-fifth of the monitors densely installed on the wall like insect compound eyes had gone dark. They only displayed white text reading “- No Signal -“.

“That, that, rat bastard!”

A madman with an M4 carbine was shooting every CCTV camera in sight. He wasn’t firing randomly either. He knew exactly where each camera was and was taking precise aim. A member shouted into the radio:

“Everyone to positions except essential personnel!”

The monitoring officer reported the situation over the radio:

“Alert! Intruder heading toward Parking Lot 2. Be careful!”

A response came from the shopping center’s large dining hall:

– We need backup at the dining hall! That woman is a complete monster! We’re losing the fifth floor!

The situation there was different. The cameras were intact, which meant they could clearly see how gang members were being slaughtered. A ponytailed woman was running around conducting a massacre.

She precisely targeted faces and necks—areas not covered by bulletproof helmets and vests. When under suppressive fire, she would duck down and then pounce at the exact moment they were changing magazines.

A barricade of lockers and desks stood in her way. This time, they alternated magazine changes. It seemed like they might finally stop her.

It was a fleeting hope.

The woman grabbed a doorknob from the floor and threw it. Gang members, mistaking it for a grenade, jumped out from cover defenseless. The woman’s rifle and pistol spat fire.

Unable to bear it any longer, a member picked up a phone.

“Judge! Please give us orders! We’re all going to die here, for real! In the shopping center, some crazy woman is killing all our comrades, and in the parking lot, some lunatic is destroying all the cameras!”

But there was no answer from the other end. Just silence. Only fearful sobbing could be heard.

‘What do we do now? What should we do next?’ Everyone was thinking the same thing.

The Civil Servant Alliance gang’s training level was terrible. They didn’t even know how to properly maintain their weapons and were too lazy to do so, resulting in poor weapon conditions.

Their lifestyle consisted of forcing slaves to do the troublesome work while they comfortably consumed the country club’s resources, going out to plunder when supplies ran low.

The Civil Servant Alliance gang had been able to repel all invasions thanks to their CCTV system and communication network. They could track in real-time who was coming from where and dispatch forces to the right places at the right times.

But now, those advantages were disappearing one by one.

Their forces had been halved. The CCTV feeds were being cut off, and zombies weren’t staying in one place but spreading throughout the resort.

Car horns, radio sounds mixed with static and voices, high and low tones from theft alarms—the zombies wandered chaotically following these sounds.

There was too much information. They couldn’t determine what to prioritize or what to abandon.

The patterns they were accustomed to, the formulas that had always brought them victory, were now holding them back.

“…Look what that bastard is doing! He’s heading to Parking Lot 2!”

If the main building was the most important structure in the country club, Parking Lot 2 was the key thoroughfare. All vehicles and people passed through here.

Since it allowed observation of both people and goods, numerous CCTV cameras were installed here. Some were very cleverly hidden to prevent theft, pilferage, or box diversion.

Moreover, Parking Lot 2 was completely open except for parked cars. Gang members were hiding behind cover, afraid of flying bullets and charging zombies.

“Still no visual. Wait. Wait.”

The monitoring officer radioed in. Just as he finished speaking, the madman suddenly popped out from the shrubbery.

“Shrub fence! Subject appeared from the direction of the shrub fence with the peace flag!”

But the carbine-wielding madman didn’t fire a single shot. He ducked to avoid incoming bullets, ran to the shrub fence, and pulled out the flag.

“What’s he doing?”

He threw away the flagpole, rolled up the flag, slid next to a vehicle, and pressed against it.

“Don’t do it.”

The monitoring officer gritted his teeth. The madman opened the vehicle’s fuel port, stuffed the rolled-up flag inside, lit it with a lighter, and ran away like a rabbit.

“I said don’t…!”

The monitor showing Parking Lot 2 went white. The car had exploded. The sound of the blast seemed to reach them even here.

The burning car rolled on its own and crashed into another car. The fuel leaking from the burst tank caught fire. As the fire spread to other cars, another explosion occurred.

– Bombing! We’re being bombed! Where is this son of a bitch?! Control! Control needs to tell us where to shoot! We can’t do anything from here…AAARGH! Help, help, hey, hey! Over there! AAARGH!

Loud gunshots were heard, then the radio went silent. Soot rose up and obscured the CCTV.

“…It’s over.”

Zombies appeared on the monitor. One. Two. Four. Eight. Sixteen. Thirty-two…

Ring ring ring. Ring ring ring.

The phone rang. It was the ‘Judge.’ The voice was sobbing and whimpering, but somewhat clearer, as if they’d had a drink.

– Leave the parking lot for now. Are the buses still operational?

“We’ve pulled them back for now.”

– Send the buses to the shopping center! Seal off the first floor and go up to catch the woman first. Let’s clear out what we can see for sure! Then, using the main building and shopping center as bases, we’ll push them back little by little!

Yes. Perhaps it’s not over yet. The radio once again spews noise.

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Camilla counted numbers.

Three, two, one—she jumped out and fired her pistol. The gang member whose gun was just clicking empty fell. The member next to him tried to return fire, but it was too late. She too fell to Camilla’s gun.

“Huff, gasp. Huff.”

She paused briefly, wiping away sweat. She let her overheated gun cool down momentarily and reloaded the magazine. Though heavy, she was glad she’d brought plenty of ammunition.

She had somehow managed to break through to the fourth floor of the five-story shopping center. The resistance had been fiercer than expected, making it difficult to push through.

Fortunately, the enemies’ training level wasn’t particularly high, so she had been able to overcome them with improvisation so far.

She hadn’t found the slaves yet. Floors one through four contained only restaurants and small shops, with nowhere that seemed suitable for holding people captive.

However, the entire fifth floor was arranged with offices and storage rooms. If hostages were being held, this was the most likely location.

She pressed against a window to survey the outside situation. Flames were rising everywhere, and explosions could be heard. But the most annoying thing was the noise.

Car horns and anti-theft alarms mixed together in an irritating cacophony. Another boom echoed as an explosion erupted. The zombies, seemingly stimulated, were pushing further and further inside.

‘The zombies are moving toward the sounds. Could it be Johan?’

Camilla’s heart raced. Their rule was to do what they wanted as long as they didn’t interfere with each other.

By rights, Johan had no reason to enter the country club yet. He had said he would wait for the zombies and gang members to destroy each other.

But the chaos outside—she couldn’t imagine anyone but him causing it. It was bizarre and unpredictable recklessness. No one else could do something like that.

It wasn’t hindering her efforts. In fact, the dispersal of zombies and gang members worked in her favor.

Shortly after her initial entry, some gang members had left the building. They seemed to be a team responding to the zombies. If the zombie hordes continued to push in like this, the gang couldn’t focus solely on her.

From the gang’s perspective, they had to fend off three waves of attacks: from Johan, from her, and from the zombies.

‘In that case, I need to increase the tempo even more.’

Johan had delivered a shock. The effect of that shock needed to be maximized. Drawing on knowledge learned from the Liberation Front, Camilla advanced with her gun in hand.

She avoided the large, open central hall. Instead, she kept to the narrow corridors around the perimeter. It was her way of minimizing the numerical disadvantage. After circling the entire third floor, she went up to the fourth.

Rat-tat-tat! As soon as she put her foot on the stairs, bullets flew. Thud! A bullet hit right in front of her combat boot. She quickly pulled back her foot and calmed her startled nerves.

Bang! Bang! Loud horn sounds. Through the glass windows, she could see a bus had arrived. Gang members disembarked and formed a defensive line. Some aimed at approaching zombies, while others broke into the building.

She would be trapped from both sides at this rate.

Having made her decision, Camilla ran down to the fourth floor. While considering whether to hide somewhere or create her own defensive line, she noticed a flashing red light.

Whether from an emergency generator or because electricity still flowed through the building, the red light of the ‘fire alarm’ was blinking.

At that moment, an idea struck her.

She didn’t know much about zombies. They were fixated on food, highly aggressive, and their bites caused infection—that was about all she knew.

But right now, the zombies were clearly being drawn to ‘sound.’ Specifically, irritating, stimulating sounds. Though they seemed to move randomly at first glance, she noticed they would approach whenever a new sound was heard.

If that was the case…

“…This is because of you.”

Camilla pouted.

“I caught this from you. I wasn’t like this originally. I’ve been influenced by hanging around you.”

Camilla swung the handle of her pistol. The acrylic panel reading ‘Break glass and press bell to sound alarm’ fell away. She pressed the bell. A loud noise spread throughout the building.

Success.