A Surface Full of Danger (1)
Crunch. Crunch-crunch.
"Ugh…!"
I caught Angela and hauled her back upright more times than I could count, each near-fall threatening to put her flat on the ice.
"…Thank you."
"You're carrying the medicine for the wounded."
"R-right. Of course. I'll be more careful."
The ground beneath the bridge was cleaner than I'd expected — no nests, no giant spiders, nothing. I'd steeled myself for at least a skirmish.
Crunch-crunch. Crunch-crunch.
A little farther on, the reason for the emptiness became clear. Down here, where sunlight never reached, the cold was brutal. The wind that gusted through every so often only made the march harder.
"— Hup! H-hhh."
Even James, out in front, nearly slipped more than once, forcing each step forward by sheer will. Our pace had slowed, but the slower we went, the fewer times anyone went down.
Grrrk-grrrk-grrrk.
Every gust of wind set the bridge creaking overhead — a rhythmic metal groan that kept drawing our eyes upward, though all we ever saw were iron beams buried in snow.
Crunch. Pop.
We walked with every muscle locked tight, and walked some more, until at last we reached the far bank. An hour and twenty minutes had already burned away.
"…That took a hell of a lot longer than expected. Damn it."
"How much time do we have left?"
"Assuming nothing snags our ankles — two hours to the rendezvous."
"…"
The timer showed thirty minutes remaining. We'd packed spare filter cartridges in abundance, so that wasn't the real worry. Endurance and the cold were. Clouds were starting to smother the sun, and the wind was picking up by degrees.
"Doesn't look like we can afford a rest. Let's aim for a fast link-up."
Angela, bent double with her hands on her knees and breathing hard, lifted her head at that and forced a nod.
…The medical bag hanging from the pack on her back. I couldn't just watch anymore. I unclipped it.
"— I can manage. Give it back."
"The second you fall behind, we're finished."
All those miserable days of grinding my body had paid off. At a glance, I clearly had more stamina left than she did. I strapped the bag onto my own pack, then took Angela by both shoulders and turned her around before she could hesitate any longer.
"Move."
"…Yes."
I'd never come up to the surface this early before. We'd only started real scouting after the outpost went up — and even then, I'd never personally reconned the surface as a Crafter.
From here on out, everything was new. And it was also the kind of experience you were supposed to avoid. But if not me, who was going to carry this risk? Force the three who voted no to go because one person insisted? Or shove out the two yes-votes who clearly couldn't contribute, plus a doctor with zero combat ability, like some kind of exile?
Above all else — a doctor we'd barely managed to save. A doctor who'd joined early and was already racking up experience.
…
When manpower ran short, the choices were always brutal. All I could do was be grateful that everyone had eventually accepted it.
"…!"
My hurried steps stopped cold. I saw James's hand signal — left — and pressed myself against a building column to hide, but James kept going, slipping fast into the building itself.
"Hhh, hhh."
Angela stuck tight on his heels. I followed them over an empty window frame, glass long gone.
Crack. Crunch.
Broken glass ground under our boots. Looking around, it seemed to be a department store — stripped mannequins tumbling across the floor, every shop floor ransacked and gutted.
They were headed for a frozen escalator.
Clank. Clank. Clank. Clank.
I scrambled after them without explanation. They stopped behind a glass pane where an event tent fluttered weakly in the wind. I took position with them, breathing hard.
"…Why—"
"Shh."
James put a finger over his gas mask and pointed down.
A mottled pack of beasts was vaulting easily over snow-buried cars, moving in a tight group — enough of them to blacken a stretch of street.
"…Feral dogs."
"In a city this big, with not a sound anywhere — if we fire a single shot…"
What would follow was obvious. Just establishing a surface base was already enough to draw every other faction and every living thing's attention. The fact that the first thing you had to install at a surface outpost was an anti-aircraft gun for Screechers said everything about how dangerous it was up here.
"…Ten minutes left. We'll swap filters while we're at it and rest until the dogs clear out."
I killed the wristwatch alarm so the timer beep wouldn't draw notice, then sat down.
15:40.
Swap the cartridges the moment it hit 15:50.
"…Hhh."
The sun was still up, but by five it would be fully dark. We had to make the rendezvous before nightfall. If the people looking for us really needed rescue, that was better for them too.
For now, though, we were stuck with an unwanted rest — and even unwanted rest put strength back into exhausted bodies, so it had to be done. While we prayed the dogs would simply pass by.
"Grrrrr…"
The quiet I'd counted on shattered with a sound from the floor below. I'd hoped they'd just move on. No such luck. The noise kept echoing through the empty building.
Tap. Tap.
It wasn't fifty minutes yet, but James rapped his filter cartridge. I opened my pack and pulled out a fresh one.
"Hup."
I held my breath and twisted the old filter free. Contaminated gear left lying around could be tracked, so I set it on the floor for a second, then spun the new one on tight.
"Hhhh — hup — hhh."
I checked the seal with both hands, then stuffed the spent cartridge into the pouch I'd prepared for it. The other two did the same, each at their own slightly different pace, and started tidying the area —
Crunch. Crack-crunch.
— when the sounds from below multiplied in earnest. Through the glass, I could see them with their noses lifted, scenting the direction we'd come from. Some of the pack peeled off toward the building across the street. A fair number of the rest came shambling straight into ours.
"…"
The instant James rose, I picked up my gun. I hadn't planned to start rationing shells this early, but I pulled out the ammo can and set it on the floor.
Clack-clack. Clack-clack.
A bandolier already loaded with shotgun shells. I hung it on James first as he came over, then Angela, then myself.
Click.
Buckles snapped shut — and from the escalator came the sound of something racing upward, light and fast. So this was how the open surface in broad daylight pulled aggro.
"…Look, I told you beforehand—"
"Shut up and get ready."
I closed my hand over Angela's hesitant gun. She pressed her lips tight and set the loaded shotgun on the floor. Even then her head kept moving like she still wasn't sure, so I gripped her shoulder hard.
"If you die, that wounded patient dies soon after. The second any of us get hurt, we're as good as dead. Is that the outcome you want?"
"…B-but the numbers—"
"Once you went along with the decision, you said you'd follow orders without question."
"…"
"Then shut up and figure out how we all live. That's an order."
"—"
"Pull yourself together."
Only after I snapped at her did she nod and put some speed into her sluggish hands. Following the plan we'd already worked out, Angela stripped shells from the bandolier and settled into position. Only James and I could shoot — which meant one person had to be the loader.
"Woof! Woof!"
A dog made it up. It lowered its head in the entrance and started barking wildly. From the first floor, the scrape of claws on smooth stone multiplied fast.
"…Hyunwoo. What are you planning to do here?"
Any animal that wasn't a mindless modified creature only showed aggression when it believed it held the superior position. If it thought it could win, it ran wild. But if things didn't go its way — if it decided the opponent was stronger — it tucked its tail.
In other words, we had to put that foaming dog down before it committed to the attack.
"Shoot."
BOOM.
"K—"
The barking head came clean off. The body stood trembling a second, then crumpled.
"…!"
The ones still climbing froze mid-step, ears pricked, staring blankly. We couldn't let the momentum die.
"Don't stop!"
A second muzzle flash. Then a third. Filthy faces that had been tilting in confusion turned to bloody pulp in an instant and crashed down through broken glass.
"Yip! Yip-yiiiip!"
Only then did the desperate cries start — as if they'd finally grasped the situation — but the growling never stopped.
"Reload!"
Angela took James's triple-barrel shotgun as he passed over his double, and started loading. A muttered stream of "If I mess up, everyone— if I mess up, if I mess up…" reached me, but she didn't drop a single shell and didn't fail a single load.
"GRAAAH!"
My turn. The first shell tore a leaping dog in half mid-acceleration and rained blood. The next punched through from skull to hip and sent the corpse skidding across the floor.
"Reload!"
I took James's loaded gun and passed mine to Angela. While the shells went in, James fired again.
"Keeng!"
Even when they tripped over the growing heap of bodies and tumbled back down —
"Reload!"
BANG. BAANG.
"Yiiip!"
— even with their own packmates crawling through blood right in front of them, the starving ferals wouldn't put their aggression away. Past ten. Past the point where guts spilled across the floor.
"Woof! Woof! Woof! Woof!"
Barking from below goaded them on, and still they came up the stairs. Twenty-five, twenty-six? Thirty? The corpses became a mound. The barking downstairs was finally swallowed by the gunfire.
"Grrr… grrrrrr…"
From the escalator mouth to the tiles where we stood — roughly twenty paces of floor packed solid with feral dog carcasses. The next one up only glared. It wouldn't take a step forward.
But still.
BAANG.
I pulled the trigger and dropped that one through the shattered glass wall too.
"Yip, yip, yip, yip, yiiip…!"
Only then came the hurried scramble back down the escalator. I turned and checked outside the window.
"Woof, woof, woof—"
"Yip! Yip!"
Dogs that wanted to run were being cut off by ones that kept barking. The pack that had gone into the building across the street had come back face-to-face with the rest. They still outnumbered what we'd killed.
"Grrrrr…"
The one that looked like the leader — a thick gray ruff grown out around its neck — stood on a car roof and jerked its chin. Unlike the skin-and-bones ones we'd just fought, this one was well-fed, and the dogs standing guard around it were a full size class larger than the ones that had rushed us. A few that had tried to flee were already locked in those heavy jaws by the throat, thrashing and yelping.
If we left it like this, the pack would come at us again. That much was certain.
"James. You see that one?"
I grabbed his shoulder and pointed at the growling animal on the car. It must have felt the attention — its head snapped up toward us.
"…Gray mane."
"Drop it."
Cutting the head — something we'd never managed in the Zeroth Reich. James set his stance without hesitation, adjusted his gas mask a few times, and —
CRASH.
Glass exploded outward. Freezing wind punched through. The warmth was gone in an instant.
"…Kek, keeh…"
Bright red sprayed from the neck in every direction. White cars went red. Black fur mottled with blood. The lighter-coated ones darkened to a wet crimson-black.
BAANG.
For the ones that still hadn't figured it out, I put the next round into the fattest remaining head. Whether I missed the mark or should have been glad of it — the body took the hit, went flying, tried to stand, then collapsed with terror written all over its face.
"Wuh, woo—"
James's shot silenced the one still barking. After that, it didn't take long for every bark to turn into a scream.
"Yip, yiiip, yip, yip, yip…"
A pack that size scattered to every point of the compass. In a single breath, the roaring city fell silent again.
"Did we… drive them off?"
I caught Angela as the tension drained out of her and she started to go down.
"We can't linger where we made noise. We leave now."
"…Agreed. Angela — on your feet."
We still had a long way to go, and the fight had burned time we couldn't spare. It was 16:10. Fifty minutes until the sun went down.