Northdong Office (1)
'Sigh...' But it felt like a waste to just turn back now.
'There are traces of people.'
Near the Northdong Office, several cars were parked. This proved that on the first day of the zombie outbreak, countless people had evacuated here. Around them lay corpses stripped of flesh by zombies, and bodies with caved-in skulls, likely turned zombies themselves and killed by others. The main entrance even had barricades set up, as if they'd tried to block the zombies.
'Something's off.'
There were plenty of zombie corpses, but no signs that any had gotten inside. That's what made it strange. Why couldn't I sense any human presence? From afar, not a single person was visible in the windows.
'Are they sleeping?'
But it was almost lunchtime. A wide-open window like that would be perfect for scouting and searching. If people were in the office, they would've been watching the entrance from upstairs. And any group with a brain would've posted guards at the front.
Yet there were no sentries, no one watching from above.
Normally, you'd assume no one was here. Hell, I probably would've too. But...
'Third floor.'
Unlike other buildings, water stains were visible on the inner windows of the office. Sure, you could chalk it up to evidence of past evacuees. But no.
Water evaporates quickly. It'd been twelve days since the outbreak. Those stains meant someone had recently used the office bathroom. And since the office was built on an old police station site, they likely used the showers inside.
'If you're not sure, check with your own eyes.'
So I decided to head straight to the Northdong Office. A building where people had lived. Maybe even where people still were. Sure, zombies could burst out anytime, making it risky. But my curiosity won out. After twelve days without seeing another soul, I was starting to miss humans.
Thud. Thud.
I stepped off the road and headed toward the office.
===
'Groan...'
Coming via the back path made entry easy. I'd climbed over the rear fence, away from the main gate, so no zombies aggroed.
'Good thing their hearing sucks.'
My experiments back at Happiness Villa had taught me plenty. Light footsteps, rustling clothes, even smacking zombie heads with a bat—none of it drew attention. Zombies only reacted to visuals or big noises, like shattering concrete or glass with Ice Spear.
Plop.
They didn't notice me slinging my bag over the back fence. I'd waited until they drifted farther away first, of course.
'Whew.'
But I didn't relax after hopping the fence. Even with Ashes Veil blocking ambushes and lethal hits, getting trapped inside would've been suicide. If every zombie nearby swarmed, I'd be spearing for days. Nightmare fuel.
Creeeak.
I moved carefully. At the back door, I used my bat to pull it open from afar—just in case a zombie was waiting.
'None.'
Good. But the first floor was a wreck.
'Tch.'
Traces of people, sure. But just traces. Overturned blankets. Bloodstained clothes. Trash bins overflowing with emergency ration wrappers.
Proof that evacuees had camped here, eating and sleeping.
'Reserve soldier rations, probably.'
Mostly emergency packs. I'd gotten a call about reserve training mid-March—around the 14th, I think. Stocked for feeding troops lunch and dinner.
I peeked under the trash: KW Fried Rice. Confirmed.
'So why's it empty now?'
People had been here, recently. But the place was dead silent. No one in the complaint office, bathrooms, or center head's room. No zombie traces either.
'...They left? No notes or anything.'
No goodbye messages for other survivors. So I headed upstairs to the second floor, hoping for something.
'...'
Nothing. Training rooms for reserves, auditorium next door—human traces, but no humans. Not even the scent of them.
'Where the hell did they go?'
I searched everywhere. No zombie attacks, no food shortage. The warehouse held enough emergency rations for 600 servings—at least two years for one person.
'Even with a crowd, this could've lasted months.'
The blankets and clothes suggested fewer than 40 people, tops. Two months easy.
'And rifle traces.'
Ammo depot and rifle storage door wide open. Rifles and bullets had been there—survivors definitely armed up. But gone now, taken when they left.
'...'
Mysterious. Rescue team already? No helipad, and I hadn't heard choppers from the villa. Abandon a safe spot like this? Leaving months of food?
'...Gives me the creeps.'
Bad vibes. I climbed to the third floor.
The air up here was chilly, lined with rooms and halls—likely old police dorms for on-duty cops. Empty otherwise.
Creeeak.
'Empty.'
Third floor barren. Drawers, TVs left behind—probably conscript barracks from police days. No need for the office to use it, so vacant. Or staff dorms.
'Shower room. There.'
Found the public showers in the corner. Approached slowly.
'Something's here.'
No presence inside. But the handle was damp—someone used it recently.
'Could be a variant.'
Or one infiltrated, ate everyone, loves water, showers often.
Creeeak.
Door open: nothing. No variant, no people, no zombies.
'Sigh...'
I turned away, frustrated. No one on 1st, 2nd, or 3rd. No answers. Fourth floor left, but low hopes.
Thud.
Up the stairs. Fourth floor same as third.
'Empty.'
Traces, no presence. I checked remaining rooms: vacant, vacant, storage, vacant, storage. Prodded dust-covered spots with my bat.
While checking a storage room, radio static hit me—from the next room over. Still broadcasting evacuations, military helos rescuing shelters.
'People...?'
But my mind raced elsewhere. Only one thing listens to radio in a dim fourth-floor corner: a survivor.
Rustle.
Radio cut off. Movement inside. Rustling, then...
Creeak.
Metal grinding. Curiosity, excitement, tension surged. I crept to the next room.
The presence grew stronger. Human sounds from within.
Swish.
Silent hall amplified every noise. Final proof:
'Haa...'
A sigh. Jackpot. Worth dragging my ass to this shithole.
'Calm down.'
Not certain yet. Unknown zombie variant? Hostile survivor? Still, I...
Knock knock knock.
"Anyone there?"