Ch.93Chapter 12. New Life (End)

At some point, Camilla veered off the asphalt road. She sped along a bumpy dirt path before turning onto what wasn’t even a road anymore, but an open field.

Anyone watching might have thought she was driving drunk—not because she was swerving, but because she seemed utterly unconcerned with whatever might appear in front of her.

Thankfully it was a truck; a low-riding passenger car would have struggled with this barely-there path. The route grew increasingly narrow until branches began slapping against the truck’s doors and windows.

After some time, a destroyed checkpoint came into view. The barricades had been cleared away. This must be the training facility near the lake that Camilla had mentioned.

In the clearing, abandoned vehicles sat rusting, and bones were embedded in the ground—not all of them human. Camilla drove under a camouflage cover. Tattered canvas fluttered like ghost skirts between the exposed red metal framework.

We gathered our weapons and got out of the truck.

The scenery was beautiful, if you ignored the buildings.

It was a basin nestled between mountains and hills, with a wide lake. Light fog drifted in the breeze.

The concrete buildings had been destroyed long ago. Nothing remained standing intact. The small dock, likely built for yachts and barges, was gone, replaced by wooden debris.

“Oh, this? It was like this when I arrived.”

Camilla answered nonchalantly, then began tapping the ground with her combat boots. Muttering something about where it might be, she suddenly—

Thunk.

“Found it.”

After gently brushing away the dust covering it, a metal plate appeared. It was a concealed door similar to the safe house beneath the fire station.

Lifting the plate revealed stairs leading downward. Unlike the fire station, these stairs were wider and spiraled down. The thunk, thunk of our steps made me dizzy as we descended.

At the bottom of the stairs was another metal door, standing wide open. Beyond it lay a spacious bunker. With no lighting, we used our phone flashlights to examine our surroundings.

It appeared to be roughly 20 meters square. Empty shelves lined the walls, suggesting it had once been a storage area. Despite being underground, it was surprisingly cool and dry. A faint sound of wind indicated there must be ventilation somewhere.

“Good. Everything’s still here. This place must be over 50 years old. Minsk occupied it back then. Say what you will about those guys, but their engineering was solid.”

Camilla let out a relieved sigh.

* * * * *

Since I didn’t want to stay long, I brought only the essentials. In truth, I was also unbearably hungry and too exhausted to move a finger.

“Can’t be helped, I guess.”

I opened three MRE packets with the shortest expiration dates. Leaving the main and side dishes untouched, I took out only the powdered drinks, candy, and chocolate. I poured the powder into a water bottle, shook it thoroughly, and offered it to the two of them.

“Choose one: 1, 2, or 3. Number 1 will taste like a regular sports drink, number 2 is melon flavor—probably like drinking melted melon ice cream. Number 3 is strawberry, or more precisely, strawberry cough syrup flavor.”

“I’d rather just have water,” Camilla complained, but there was no choice. After running around all day without proper rest, we needed not just water but minerals too. And it wasn’t like I’d opened three MREs just to find the electrolyte powder.

After a fair round of rock-paper-scissors, Camilla squeezed her eyes shut and gulped down the strawberry syrup-flavored drink, while Cassandra held her nose and drank the melon one.

Knowing that even drinking water too quickly can cause discomfort, I watched them with concern as I slowly sipped my electrolyte drink. It was more concentrated than I’d expected. Half the powder would have been enough.

* * * * *

We decided not to take turns keeping watch tonight. Instead, we piled obstacles halfway up the spiral staircase. Zombies would slide off sideways while coming down, and humans would find it quite challenging—if they even knew about this place. Besides, there were no signs of anyone else having been here.

Though exhausted, I couldn’t fall asleep. My stomach growled painfully, perhaps because of how little I’d eaten.

Above all, the zombies troubled me.

If dogs, crows, rats, and cats could become zombies, then parrots certainly could too. It’s not strange that parrots mimic human speech. But a zombie parrot mimicking human speech was something I hadn’t anticipated.

I recalled the warning written on the whiteboard:

No matter what sounds you hear in the fields, never go alone.

The wolf zombies and human zombies had been waiting for us. If the parrot cried for help, people would approach, and then be devoured by zombies.

The man in the building must have held out until the very end before taking his own life.

A bizarre symbiosis.

“Is everyone asleep?” Camilla’s voice broke the silence.

“No.”

“Cassandra’s not sleeping either.”

It seemed all three of us were wrestling with similar thoughts. Camilla stared into space, muttering almost to herself.

“Those things we met today, they definitely seemed to be cooperating with each other. A parrot, wolves, and humans—an unimaginable combination. Do zombies really have a concept of cooperation?”

Cassandra answered, “There have been no reported cases like this before. The lab rats just moved according to instinct. Hunger was strongest, then the need for sleep, and finally sexual desire.”

“…Sexual desire?” Camilla’s voice was horrified. I felt uncomfortable too. Zombies with sexual desire?

“The urge to preserve one’s species exists in everyone. Zombies are no different. It’s just that their hunger far outweighs their sexual desire. Anyway, today’s case is unprecedented.”

If the Administration, which likely studied even masturbating zombies, said “today’s case is unprecedented,” it must truly be rare.

“But Johan, what exactly did you do today?”

“I did quite a few things today. Which one are you referring to?”

“You made the zombies angry.”

Ah, she must mean when I played back the parrot’s recording.

Before coming to this world, I’d seen animal videos where they’d hide a recorder behind a mirror and play dog barking sounds. The surprised dog would run to the mirror, utterly confused. They called it an animal prank, but it was essentially abuse.

“Well, I thought making them angry would be better. We needed to fight on favorable terms, which meant provoking them to come to us. Why do you ask?”

“No one Cassandra knows could do it as skillfully as you did. Everyone knows zombies are attracted to food. That works well in non-protected zones, but not so much in protected areas. But with you, it was like the zombies were being drawn in.”

What should I say? That I have experience? That I’ve fought them many times before?

“I just tried it on a hunch. I wasn’t certain. I’m glad it worked. But the zombies’ cooperation is strange to me. At this rate, they might learn to turn doorknobs next.”

I meant it as a joke, but the mood grew heavy.

“…It might be possible,” Cassandra said cautiously.

“Zombies could?”

“Animals have intelligence too. I’m not talking about abstract thinking or how human-like they behave. But even animals understand cause and effect. Smart dogs follow their owners’ intentions and are rewarded with food and shelter.

Those zombies might have stumbled upon this arrangement by chance. A parrot can’t hunt humans, but it can feed on someone already killed. Unintentional symbiosis—that might be the accurate term.”

Come to think of it, I did give the wolf and human zombies reason to chase me. They heard the parrot’s call, came to investigate, and found only a human with a gun and nothing to eat.

“I don’t know if it’s talent. I just do what comes naturally.”

Camilla teased in response, “Usually what ‘comes naturally’ doesn’t work. So yes, it’s talent. It seems to work well not just on zombies but on people too. Why is that?”

“…In other words, Johan can influence zombies. Being able to move others according to your intentions means you might be able to control them to some extent.”

“What, am I some genius at making zombies angry?”

I meant it half-jokingly, but Cassandra seemed to take it quite seriously. I remain skeptical, though.

In non-protected zones, both humans and zombies are hungry. So providing a little stimulation to satisfy that hunger can have significant effects. I’m simply exploiting that fact.

But in protected zones, like cities? I don’t have much fighting experience there, so I can’t say for sure.

“This is getting more complicated. If zombies are getting smarter, I can’t imagine how exhausting things will become,” Camilla grumbled. I share her sentiment, but Cassandra seemed to have a different perspective.

“We tested this on lab rats. Their intelligence doesn’t drop as much as you might think. It’s just that other urges far outweigh intelligence. Could someone who’s been starving for two months resist food placed in front of them? That’s a different issue from intelligence or self-control. That’s what’s happening with these zombies.

But if food competition intensifies and competitors increase, zombies will certainly change their strategy. Even ordinary animals do that. The kind of accidental cooperation and solidarity we saw today might increase.

It’s not just the virus fighting to survive. The hosts are doing the same—competing, fighting, surviving, and trying to spread their offspring. And finally, they won’t stop changing until they find the optimal solution to conquer everything.”

“Sounds like humans,” Camilla agreed, but I had a different thought.

“I’m not so sure. Humans twist their surroundings to fit themselves. The C-virus does the opposite—it tries to dissolve itself into its surroundings. The goal is the same, but the means are completely opposite.”

“And now the two have merged,” Cassandra declared, making us all sigh.

“What will happen next?”

No one answered. The future feels distant. Camilla tossed and turned before falling asleep, and I drifted off too.

“…I want to atone. For all of this.”

Cassandra whispered.

“What did you say?”

But Cassandra didn’t answer. I don’t know if it was sleep-talking or genuine feelings disguised as such.

I think simply. We go to the lab, Cassandra finds a vaccine, Camilla and I get treatment.

After that, well… whatever happens to the world, I just want to live peacefully.

If a vaccine can be found, that is.

Cassandra might be trying to solve an unsolvable problem. The virus mutates too quickly for vaccines to be effective—Cassandra herself said so.

Before falling asleep, a thought crossed my mind.

She said the virus won’t stop mutating until conquest is complete.

What if the virus in my body becomes the most superior strain? What if all mutations stop then…?

“Hah.”

Having such absurd thoughts means it’s time to sleep.