Choice, and the Price
Rip. Press.
I wound the tape around the gloves and boots again and again, layer after layer.
My hair had already been shaved clean long ago.
Mr. James's beard and hair were the same.
“….”
One cheek swollen bright red, Angela took the gas mask from Sara.
“No matter how today turns out, I will not tolerate that kind of behavior.”
Even standing in front of the person who had struck her, Angela kept her chin lifted with quiet dignity and simply nodded.
The sight only seemed to stoke Sara's fury further; she ground her teeth with a sharp, grating sound.
“I have nothing to say about the blackmail. But if I didn't go this far….”
“Both of you, enough.”
It had been a situation we could have abandoned.
The choice had already been tipping one way.
What had forced it back was Angela abusing her position as our only doctor.
“…Once this rescue mission is over, I'm going to hold you separately accountable for the blackmail. Whether this search ends well or badly.”
“As long as I've sworn that nothing is more precious than saving a life… yes. I'm prepared for that.”
There was no doubt that attitude would one day trip her up.
Even weighing the enormous combat strength we stood to gain if the rescue succeeded—
even if I could bring Spearhead members into my community—
even if Spearhead, a force I had never once managed to recruit across every playthrough, started moving under my command—
that would have been fine on its own. But even so, Angela's attitude was hard to accept.
“Hah.”
…A replaceable doctor.
Maybe the reason she had wanted to leave with me was that her nature and her beliefs kept colliding with the Zeroth Reich, and she had already guessed she would be swapped out in short order.
“I'll say it again—I know I made an unreasonable demand. If anything happens—”
“You blackmailed me already knowing you're an irreplaceable asset who can't be thrown away.”
I sighed and glared at her. Angela Dietrich finally dropped her eyes to the floor.
“…Every action carries responsibility. And, for what it's worth….”
She pressed a finger to the center of her chest, then slowly raised her gaze to meet mine.
“Death will never be the way that responsibility is paid.”
As if she had nothing more to say, Angela only nodded slowly.
…We had started on such a good note when we were analyzing the drugs.
If I had known she was this kind of person, would I have restricted information as much as possible whenever something dangerous came up?
No—the fault was mine for failing to keep her in check even after seeing the discontent she'd carried since escaping the Zeroth Reich.
It was another moment of realizing that managing people was never easy.
“Mr. Curtis, how did the negotiations go?”
“…They say there's a limit to what they can do on their end, but here—take a look.”
A star marked the final rendezvous point on the map.
About two kilometers from the hotel.
If our estimate of the location was right, that would cut twenty to thirty minutes off the trip.
“I've said it more times than I can count—trust James's instincts. Don't let the doctor make the call on her own.”
After a moment of hesitation, Mr. Curtis grabbed my shoulder hard and pulled me down.
Then he whispered into my ear.
“…Medics never could tell the difference between what they should do and what they had to do. The ones who try to save even the enemy and get taken hostage. The ones who start quoting the Geneva Conventions and end up riddled with machine-gun fire… There was a hero named Desmond Doss over in the Pacific, but miracles stay miracles for a reason.”
“I already know that—”
“You're our miracle. From the moment we met you until now—every bit of it has been a miracle. We've already run into people who kill without hesitation three times. And the ones who were even halfway rational were Nazi-worshipping bastards, American or not. Do you understand what I'm saying?”
“Yes.”
“I hope you do. You're important. Make whatever excuses you need—just come back with your life.”
Mr. James, gas mask already fastened tight, looked at me.
Angela, medical bag packed full of supplies cinched firmly to her back, nodded my way.
And last of all, Sara grabbed me and dragged me off.
“…Sorry for asking again and again.”
“The decision's already made.”
“I know, I know—but wouldn't it be better to find a doctor down here underground? She's just a veterinarian. Not even a real doctor.”
“…She's treated every trauma worth mentioning from the Zeroth Reich until now. Like I said—”
Her hand squeezed my arm hard, but I barely felt the pain anymore.
I had to admit her skill at stitching wounds fast and clean.
“It's not like I'm saying we shouldn't save people. I'm not.”
“I'll make getting everyone back safely the goal. And… this might turn out to be a good opportunity for Angela.”
Angela Dietrich—still idealistic, still someone who hadn't often met a true monster.
Whether in reality or in Concrete Under, there was a common thread:
after an experience that put your life on the line, your nature either warped to extremes or your convictions grew even more unshakable.
And idealism was one of the easiest convictions to change.
Or you died.
A personality good for drawing people in—and a belief system perfectly suited to getting yourself killed.
I put on the gas mask, and Sara fitted the filter canister for me.
The pouches at my waist held two hours' worth each—six in total.
The backpack on my back carried four more as spares.
Twenty hours of activity, prepared and ready.
Getting lost, waiting, hiding…
We had to be ready for every scenario.
After the radio cut out, I checked our gear one more time.
Emergency rations and water, just in case.
A spare gas mask.
Ammo cans packed full of rounds.
The shotgun.
Flashlight.
…I ran a hand once over my smooth, bare scalp.
“Ready?”
“Survival first. If the rescue looks uncertain, abandon it and return.”
“No impulsive actions. Do not force a rescue of anyone who gets separated.”
Reciting the promises we had made one by one, we took our places in front of the hatch exit.
Mr. James at the front.
Angela in the middle.
And me at the rear. I drew a deep breath.
“Move out.”
— Clink. Rattle.
— Click-click-click. Click. Click-click-click-click.
The Geiger counter strapped to my chest filled the silent world with its sound.
Out there, we spread the map wide open.
“Not as cold as I expected.”
“The moment night falls, it'll get brutal. We need to reach the 75th's base camp before it gets dark.”
“First problem is figuring out exactly where we are.”
Flat ground behind the entrance.
And ahead of it, spreading out—an empty, hollowed city.
Nothing unusual yet.
Not yet.
“…Your father was right on the money. There—that building with a few of its billboards fallen off. Do you see it?”
TH SUI E
“The Suite. There's a wide frozen river in front of it… Confirmed. This is the place.”
Fortunately, we weren't at the farthest estimated point.
“Three hours if we're slow. Two if we're fast. Right—set a one-hour-fifty-minute timer for 1400 before we start.”
“You mean two in the afternoon?”
“…From now on, we use 1400. Stick to it.”
Angela flinched at the cold tone, but soon nodded in acceptance.
Everyone already knew this sort of thing was coming.
“First, we check the thickness of the frozen river. If it's thick enough to walk across, we cross as is. If not… we should expect three hours, or more.”
“And we have to factor in surface threats on top of that.”
“…Go on.”
“For one, Rebirth Church people are active on the surface too.”
“Goddamn it.”
“Rebirth Church?”
“…Fanatics who perform human sacrifices.”
“Ah….”
“You didn't know.”
Mr. James's voice was heavier than I had ever heard it.
“…Keep going. What else is out there.”
“Screecher—crows that mutated until they're the size of a two-story building. Predators that roam near the zoo. Packs of feral dogs that never became Dogfoot. Land Bats in dark places. And while the underground is sealed, the surface is wide open. In other words—”
“We walked straight into the enemy's jaws?”
“That said….”
If there had been a real threat nearby, it would already have hit us.
And there was no bird-shadow herald of a Screecher, no vast avian shape blotting the sky.
“It's afternoon now—1400—so if we can link up before dark, we should be able to get out quick. No one's injured, so the chance of being tracked is low.”
“In other words, the moment someone gets hurt—”
“Everything out here will be on our trail.”
Angela glanced back at the passage we had come from.
Then she turned her head to me again.
“…Shall we check the ice thickness first?”
Even so, she had no intention of stopping.
The die was already cast, wasn't it?
And since we had already sent the telegram saying we were coming, their reply had been that they would dispatch one person as a guide.
How far we could trust that was another question.
— Crunch. Crunch.
We walked over the packed snow toward the river and looked at the ice.
Mr. James swept the piled snow aside with one hand.
“…Clean. Transparent.”
Then he picked up a nearby rock and smashed it hard into the ice.
— Thud.
Only a shallow dent. Nothing more.
“Looks fine to cross, but….”
Surveying the wide-open surroundings, Mr. James pointed toward a bridge in the distance.
“We move under the bridge, using the shadows for cover.”
That was clearly the better plan.
If a Screecher showed up and we only then tried to hide, it would already be far too late.
“….”
We were supposed to follow Mr. James, but Angela stood frozen in place, staring blankly at the city.
Her hands trembled for a moment—then she clenched them into fists and hurried after him.
“…I can do this. I can save them.”
Clouds began to gather overhead.
At the very least, the ice didn't look like it would melt.