Not Betting My Life

I did one-handed pull-ups in the gym and waited more than ten minutes, but my hand showed no sign of improving.

I waved it around, even tried melting the frost with my breath — nothing worked. A bad feeling started creeping in.

...I think I'm fucked.

Was I going to have to live like this forever?

I'd done it trusting the recovery that brought me back even from death, but if I had to carry a penalty like this, the loss was massive.

...If nothing melts it, I'll just have to burn it off.

The injury under the frost-covered hand had healed long ago. A little burn would just mean peeling off the charred skin and waiting it out.

Once that thought settled, I headed straight for the cafeteria.

Even with the power out, the odds of a kitchen in a school this well-equipped not having a single torch were basically zero. No reason to hesitate.

And while I was at it, I needed to get a fire going. This cold that kept getting worse for some reason needed to ease up too.

Clunk—

The breath streaming from my mouth as I stepped out the gym's back door was growing thicker by the second.

I opened the cafeteria door and walked in to the usual welcome of corpses.

I answered them with the lightweight baton, and the one-shot, one-kill performance of my new weapon put me in a slightly better mood.

A weapon that could crack a skull in a single swing even one-handed meant that much less hassle. I liked it a lot.

Patting myself on the back that my choices never went wrong, I opened the kitchen door — and stopped cold at the mess spread out before me.

The bodies of the cafeteria aunties, or rather what was left of them, huddled together waiting for someone to save them, made the culprit obvious at a glance.

I scanned the body parts torn to shreds in a way no ordinary corpse's strength could even begin to imitate, and thought:

...That bastard who tore through the main building stopped by here too?

How did it even know to find the aunties hiding and shivering ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠in this cramped kitchen?

It only made sense if it had gone through the entire building killing everyone.

...Or maybe it's got some kind of biological radar.

If that thing really had antennae like Piccolo and had wiped out everyone in the school...

...Then why can't it detect my position?

I stared with a puzzled look at the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠orangutan still running around the field beyond the window.

It savagely chewed the frost shards that had formed inside its mouth, then — whether from rage or pain — kicked a perfectly innocent basketball hoop to pieces.

I was sneering at the thing as it huffed and scanned every direction, searching for a torch, when the closed kitchen door suddenly burst open.

I looked up, wondering what it was, and found a single zombie staring this way with its spine broken, waist folded nearly in half.

So one was still left.

I locked eyes with it without thinking, about to walk over to the thoughtful bastard that had come to die on its own, when its jaw started clacking and it took a posture that felt off.

It threw its mouth wide open into the shouting stance only some corpses could manage.

"...You still had working vocal cords?"

I'd hoped otherwise, but I immediately grabbed a bloodstained Chinese cleaver nearby to throw at it — too late.

"KRAAAAAAAAAAH!!!"

I jammed the knife into the charging zombie's throat with an irritated look, then glanced out the window just in case it hadn't been heard.

"Ah, fuck."

Of course. Some things just never go your way, no matter how hard you try.

I watched the orangutan charging like mad on all fours in that grotesque gait, absently put a hand to my head — then flinched and pulled it away at the extreme cold on my forehead.

I stared down at the frost still thickly packed there, then spotted an automatic torch in one corner of the kitchen and a row of olive oil bottles lined up on the ceiling shelf.

...Since it's come to this,

I might as well start a bigger fire.

The moment I decided, I swept the shelf clean and gathered the oil cans.

I yanked the Chinese cleaver out of the zombie's neck, smashed every oil can open so they leaked, and dumped them all into a big wok.

Once the setup was roughly done, I pressed the button to light the torch — and somehow it was dead.

A chill ran through me. I checked the gas canister. Light. Way too light.

At the same moment, the window exploded inward and a long arm thrust through.

"Grrrk. Grrrrrk."

It ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠forced its neck bent nearly halfway to make the angle, shoved its head through the shattered glass, and looked this way.

Our eyes met.

Inside the kitchen littered with empty oil cans, I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠spotted a dusty lighter on the shelf beside the window.

The instant that tiny object entered my vision, I hurled the Chinese cleaver at it, grabbed the iron bar I'd propped to one side, and charged.

I have to hit first, while it still isn't all the way in.

The moment it contemptuously batted the cleaver aside with its arm, I full-swung the iron bar in my right hand at its head.

But—

Grab—

The difference in strength was overwhelming. One arm against one arm, my power was so thoroughly outmatched that the bar was caught in its grip with pathetic ease.

I looked at the thing grinning with its teeth bared in a sneer, and immediately let go of the handle.

Then I gave it the same rotten smile right back.

"Fake-out, you dumbass."

You think I didn't factor in that brainless strength of yours?

I drove a kitchen knife from my hoodie pocket full force into the eye of the thing that had just sealed its own arm.

But in that instant it whipped its head aside, and the blade only grazed the eyeball by a hair.

Frustrating as hell. A clean hit would have reached the brain and ended it in one go.

"GRARARAK!"

Whooosh—

KRAAAANG!

I barely dodged the iron bar it flung while howling, black blood streaming from its eye, then grabbed the lighter that had been the real goal and backed off.

I set an entire roll of kitchen paper on fire and said one line.

"Your teeth look pretty sensitive. Let me help with that."

Fwoosh—

I dropped the burning paper into the wok, then picked up the thing as it erupted into flame in an instant.

"Open wide."

One burning cocktail, coming up.

Fwaak—!

Fwoooooosh—

Its entire upper body was engulfed in fire.

It had already been blackened long before, but I watched it get thoroughly roasted on top of that and lit another roll of paper.

I held it to my hand — and thankfully, there was a visible effect.

The white frost that had shown no sign of vanishing melted little by little. The speed was a bit slow, so I just shoved my hand straight into the flames.

Mm. Warm.

My hand sizzled as the flesh cooked. Once the frost was finally gone and the hand was clean, I tossed the ash-scattering paper aside.

I studied the skin and muscle warped by the extreme heat — and sure enough, it was already healing on its own.

...But then why does this chill still remain?

The feeling of cold wind circulating through my whole body wouldn't go away.

Then I noticed the necrotic scab slowing the recovery of my hand injury and forced it off.

In that instant, a single drop of blood seeped from the gap and ran down my right thumb.

Crack—

And from that bloodstain, a tiny red frost crystal sprouted.

...You've got to be fucking kidding me.

My brain rebooted trying to process the absurd sight — and the orangutan began to move.

"Grrrrrrr..."

I looked up to see how much damage it had taken, and met a white one-eyed stare.

But nothing about it seemed different at all. What the hell?

"GRARARARARARAK!!!"

Inhuman rage piled up and piled up until it crossed the threshold and finally exploded.

Far from burned, it thrashed with a force that looked even livelier than before the fire.

Crack — the concrete wall fractured and crumbled. Matching it, the window glass began to widen further and further.

I looked back and forth between that thing and my left hand, already fully restored, then picked up the iron bar from the floor and muttered.

"Fine. Let's finish this. Now."

It wasn't like I was running a boss raid. Throwing ice and fire at it like some strategy guide was starting to feel ridiculous.

"Stop wrecking a perfectly good building and come out."

I'm going to need these facilities long after I'm done with you.

I made a show of climbing out through the next window over, leaving the thing stuck in the first one.

I trudged out onto the field. The orangutan twisted its neck to glare at my back.

I just watched, wondering what scheme it was cooking up this time. It stayed still until I reached the center. I crooked a finger at it.

"Didn't you understand me? Come at me."

"KREEEEEEEAAAAAAAH!!!"

When the prey that could do nothing but thrash openly dismissed it like that, the orangutan's single remaining eye rolled completely over.

A volume that blanketed not just the whole school but the entire area.

Drawn by that mad howl, every zombie inside the school went into an uproar.

I frowned at the sound of corpses flooding toward the field from every direction — and a voice brushed my ear.

"...What?"

At the same time, music of all things began pouring from the broadcast speakers scattered inside and outside the school.

Listening to her needlessly cheerful voice, I let out a hollow laugh once, then looked at the orangutan charging me and said one thing.

"Noise warfare or whatever — honestly, this is way too hype."

The actual situation was me having to face a monster that tore people apart alone.

But listening to the song, it felt like I was trading blows with some sparring partner for fun.

And she said it suited me best? No matter how I looked at it, that had to be a backhanded dig.

Thinking that, I met the overwhelming killing intent the inhuman monster poured out from dead ahead.

...If you can't avoid it, enjoy it — is that the idea?

Since it's come to this, maybe I should change my mindset a little.

For real.

Should I try enjoying it once?

The song filling the school grew louder and louder, beginning to spread across the entire city.