Chapter 119
Chapter 119
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 119
Chapter Title: 63. Two Offspring (2)
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I examined the wound.
Maggots were writhing inside it, filling the gash completely.
I swept them out with my gloved hand and peered into the depths.
Too late.
The injury was far too severe for any help now.
A miracle it was still alive at all.
Gold couldn't even lift its head, its muzzle pressed to the ground as it gazed up at me.
"Gold..."
I slowly shook my head.
It closed its eyes and bowed its head.
Truth be told, it hadn't done anything special for me.
Nor I for it.
Yet for some reason, this one stirred something unique in me.
Maybe because we'd never asked anything of each other from the start.
I wanted to do something for it.
But what could I do for a creature on the brink of death?
No, there was one thing.
"Gold."
I called to it.
It rolled only its eyes toward me, head still lowered.
"Let's go home."
It struggled to raise its head.
"Even if you're dying, you should do it at home."
A faint, whistling wheeze escaped it.
It couldn't even bark.
As it lifted its head, dried blood flaked off beneath its fur, maggots tumbling out with pus.
But we could communicate without words.
Gold nodded slowly and lolled out its tongue.
"...Just hang on a bit. I'll bring the truck."
It slumped lower.
"Can you walk?"
It tried to rise.
"It's fine. Save your strength. I'll be right back. Don't die before then."
Gold wheezed in response.
Silver wagged its tail as I mounted the motorcycle, staring intently.
"You stay here."
It just kept wagging, not understanding.
I pointed toward Gold.
"Over there. Go. Stay with Dad."
It wandered off in the wrong direction.
Turned out it was squatting to take a dump.
I flicked on the headlight and rode off.
Walking from Gold's hiding spot to my territory took ages, but by vehicle, it was instant.
Of course, nothing went smoothly in this apocalypse.
I pulled aside the camouflage tarp of dirt and gravel over the garage exit,
then fired up the hydraulic pump with its whirring whiiiiiir--
strong power but frustratingly slow incline ramp,
and gave the electric truck a quick once-over with a few solid clangs.
After pulling it out, I'd reverse everything except maintenance.
Couldn't risk someone sneaking in while I was gone and taking it all.
But today, luck wasn't on my side.
The battery was acting up.
Didn't use it much, yet the voltage was fluctuating wildly.
The batteries I charged daily for a year were fine, but this truck one, used once or twice a year if that, was the problem.
Were those Korean battery execs wrong after all? I grumbled to myself as I swapped it out.
Replaced the main pack under the chassis and checked the voltage.
Normal now.
Night was chilly, but summer humidity lingered, leaving my forehead and back soaked in sweat.
I chugged some water and hit the bathroom.
No matter the emergency, I always prepped thoroughly.
Armed up with weapons and emergency rations, then drove the truck.
Suspicious state meant no steep inclines; I took the gentle ridge past Old Man Kim's old house site to the road.
Headlights off.
My eyes had adjusted to the dark, and I knew this area like the back of my hand.
A few lights flickered north, but almost none south.
Due south of my turf was a hot zone; national command ordered strategic withdrawal and evacuation.
Most local pops, bar a few exceptions, got absorbed into nearby metros.
Population strain, sure, but unavoidable amid scattered crises.
We were already tanking WW3-scale war across the whole country while zombie hordes, monsters, mutations popped up everywhere—too much for local cops and military alone.
With cities turning zombie pits, what choice was there?
A distant roar echoed.
Mutation dog?
No, something unknown.
Not just dogs mutated.
The Maya forum, still sporadically active, reported southern mutations: boars, deer, crows, even civet cats.
Especially those civet mutations seemed real.
A Daejeon user posted a city board bounty notice photo.
Anyway, unknown turf, so weirdos here and there? No biggie.
The real worry hit as I neared Gold's spot.
Woof! Woof! Woof!
Mutation dogs barking.
Not one or two—several.
Pattern matched what I'd heard before: settling pack hierarchy, infighting.
Did Gold's attackers return?
Possible.
Mutations hated humans.
Someone saw Gold buddying up with me; another might've watched me head to Gold.
Click.
No turning back.
Dead or alive, I'd see Gold.
I earned that right.
Not its parent, but I'd given it one life.
Eyed my guns and floored it straight to the ruin.
Beyond the headlights, huge shadows loomed.
Mutation dogs.
Blinded by the sudden light, they froze, heads turned our way.
Five of them.
Some familiar from before, some new.
I bailed out, guns trained.
But,
"Kiiing."
They slunk away at the sight of me.
One even tucked tail.
No fight in them?
Grrrrowl!
No, one had it.
As the big ones backed off, a small fierce one emerged from behind.
Silver.
Tiny compared to the others, double bloody, silver fur turned crimson, baby teeth bared in savage hostility at the pack.
"Silver!"
I eyed the dogs warily while checking Silver.
Good, alive.
No fatal wounds.
The retreating pack bared teeth cautiously but melted into the unlit shadows in orderly fashion.
"..."
No need to shoot.
They drove Gold to death but spared Silver's life.
Otherwise, it'd be pup mince by now.
They just wanted submission.
Situation clear, I approached Silver slowly.
Hackles up, teeth out—then it saw me, hid them, lolled tongue, wagged tail like nothing happened.
I stroked its sleepy, exhausted eyes and bloody head.
"Good job. You're a brave one."
Beyond Silver, the ruin.
Dread nagging, I peered inside.
Flies still buzzed, assaulting ears and eyes, amplifying unease—but in the dark corner, the massive dog lived.
"Gold."
It lifted its head slightly.
"...You raised a fine son."
Gold snorted proudly.
Even its half-lidded mocking squint tugged at me.
I chuckled despite myself and turned.
"Let's go home."
Gold heaved its bulk up.
Foul stuff oozed or plopped below, but I didn't look.
Amid the stench, it emerged.
Once majestic like a stag, now skeletal; fur patchy, discolored white where I'd named it Gold—but tonight's bright moon turned the filth golden.
Gold clambered laboriously into the truck bed.
Silver stared blankly; Gold pawed at it.
Calling its pup?
Silver hopped in after.
Well, tried—brave with dogs, terrified of vehicles.
I grabbed its rear and hoisted.
"Hold up!"
Strain hit my back.
Can't injure that.
Disc issues deadlier than cancer here.
Seen too many colleagues suffer; my back vigilance outstrips others.
Luckily, Silver just stared, then leaped aboard beside Dad, snuggling in.
Pus soiled its fur, but it licked Dad's wounds clean.
"..."
Last perimeter check, then driver's seat.
Felt the EV kick like mounting a horse, hit the gas.
Back in China days, I carried a dying comrade once.
She just sobbed silently into my back.
Tears and breath heat seeping through in January's freeze felt colder somehow—then I realized she was gone.
No real impact.
Just deepened the apathy clinging to me like a ghost, another yawn.
Repeating that oddly now.
Not comrade on back, but dog in truck.
Feelings different this time.
A sense of duty ruled my thoughts: just doing what must be done.
No room for parting or abstract death.
Around the corner, crumbled house ahead—the one Gold first tried entering when we met.
Gold's state worsened en route; I helped it down.
Too heavy, and dodging back strain, I eased off last second—Gold thudded to the ground.
"Whoops!"
Its hind legs wouldn't move.
Still, front paws dragged it desperately, slowly home—to where it was born and raised.
Watching, one question arose.
If this is the end, how's helping different from not? Classic efficiency dilemma.
No, something remained.
Beside Gold, its legacy treasure.
Licking dying Dad's face.
Gold's eyes drifted shut sleepily, then turned to me.
For a split second, a phantom "thanks"—I watched it close them forever.
"..."
Oddly, no prior drowsiness.
Strange.
No sleepiness amid thousands dying daily on brutal fields, yet none here in quiet peace.
Silver threw its head back, howling mournfully for Dad, twice—then approached me.
I petted its bloody wounds and head, gazing at my eternally sleeping dog.
"...Your dad was brave and valiant like you."
I wouldn't bury Gold.
Let it rot to bones and fade there, in its birthplace home.
Like its wolf kin.
Brought Silver to the bunker.
Treated wounds, rinsed fur lightly.
Fed it.
Picky eater, though.
Ignored frozen meat.
Sniffed, pawed the bowl away.
Devoured yesterday's fresh kill ravenously.
True wild child.
What now?
Hunt daily?
Gold's pack turf teemed with game.
Raising this beast means hunts every day—does that lifestyle suit me?
But for long-term survival, hunter practice ain't bad.
Necessary for keeping it, anyway.
All moot, though.
Next day, Silver vanished like wind.
Left a few silver tufts amid Dad's.
Chose freedom over human hands.
Its update came from unlikely Defender siblings.
"Skeleton. Saw my pic? Mutation dogs have pups too? Cute, right?"
Aerial shot: that night's standoff pack, tiny silver spark strutting proud among them.
Foolish yet valiant, proud as Dad—I smiled unwittingly.
"...Yeah. Cute."
Human era ends, theirs endures.
Maybe Gold's bloodline rules this peninsula someday.
Gold's pups seem more worthy than our board's human spawn.
"..."
Tap tap
"Ah."
Lost composure unwittingly.
Gold and Silver injected excess feels.
Reaction was fire.
"..."
But now, one more won't hurt.
Two extra words.
Uncharacteristic slip.
But reception's great.
Praise flood incoming.
...
...
Maybe Gold's gift was courage for trash talk?
But luxury brings ruin.
K-walkie chirped oddly.
Sensing doom, checked it.
U Min-hee.
"..."
This Park Gyu thrives in crises.
Judges coolly always.
Answer now.
Acted casual, like nothing happened.
"Hey, Min-hee. What's up? Man! Perfect fall weather~."
"Sunbae, online?"
"Nah, not really."
"For real?"
"Yeah. Totally not."
"Can I visit your bunker?"
I clapped a hand over my mouth.
Stopped "Where you going feeling bad?"
"Can I? Right?"
"Got stuff at home I'm shy to show."
"It's fine. Just wanna check one thing."
"..."
Big trouble.