Harmony and Fracture

"Gas mask filter cartridges! Why didn't I think of this sooner?"

I set out a generous ten of them, then gave my nose a quick rub. I packed the steel shears, the wrench, and the duct tape back onto the shelf where they belonged. As a bonus, I had already reworked the dripping pipes so no one needed to catch rainwater in buckets anymore.

"And it's so much faster, with steadier pressure. We might even be able to bathe the children a little more often."

Mitchell—a red-skinned mother of two who used to run a vegetable stand—looked thoroughly delighted. From what she told me, she was one of the three who had brought me down here in the first place.

"People like us who received the blessing don't really need gas masks all that much. And since the Teacher handles every dirty job himself… we've got more of these than we know what to do with. If only we'd realized sooner."

"What crops do you mainly grow here?"

"Until now, wheat was the limit. Honestly, growing wheat when water's scarce is the wrong call to begin with… but we couldn't just leave the wheat grains the Teacher happened to find sitting around. With this much water, though, we could try potatoes too."

Of course. People who could ignore radiation and scavenge freely would naturally have more than most. So why, among all those things, had there never been a single communication device?

We welcome only those who will accept us; we do not proselytize.

That was what the Teacher had said… still, wouldn't it have been smarter to keep at least one radio for gathering information?

"Then… do you have any surplus wheat grains or seed potatoes?"

"Why do you ask?"

"I'm planning to farm as well. There are a couple of people back home who are interested in it. So…"

"You need things you can plant."

And if possible, rice would be nice. Or I could always ask the Teacher—or Spearhead—for that later.

"Hmm… you'd better ask the Teacher. Wheat grains and flour are our main trade goods. It's not something I can decide on my own—"

"Then we simply trade for them."

The Teacher appeared, pushing aside the tent flap. Mitchell immediately rose and bowed her head with formal respect.

"You need flour?"

"…Seeds. For farming."

"Seeds. Intact ones are hard to come by, but they can be found. All sorts of them. Not just the wheat and potatoes here… large supermarkets and garden kits in commercial buildings always come with seed packets."

He glanced at the filter I had installed and nodded with quiet satisfaction.

"I imagine there are many other things you can do besides this."

"…If you give me tools, materials, and time."

"Then by all means."

A sizable greenhouse complex set up in this vast underground space came into view at a glance. But we headed in the opposite direction.

"I can tell you where seeds might be found, but I cannot go looking myself. The cold keeps the corpses from wandering the surface for now, yet the deeper storerooms are full of all manner of things."

"Bunkers are the same way. Not surprising."

"People do not wander aimlessly, but those who have lost their reason to hunger become wanderers. George and the others watch for them and deal with them… yet there is still the hauling, the organizing, the farming, the threshing, the cooking, the breaking down of anything that might serve as firewood against the cold, the injuries that follow—"

"You're short on hands."

"On the day a real fight breaks out, every other task stops cold."

The Teacher lightly opened the iron door and showed me a room packed with monitors. I tried the power button on one out of curiosity; of course nothing came on.

"If my guess is right, this place can manage every working security camera in the building."

"But there's no power to the mall."

I had seen temporary generators ripped from somewhere and put to use, yet the building's own electrical system was completely dark.

"We couldn't just restore it however we liked. Think about it. Everywhere else is blacked out—if this place alone lights up like a beacon, what do you suppose happens?"

"You could limit the power to the underground only."

"…I want power to the basement, the first floor, and the second floor, while still keeping the place looking deserted. Does that make sense? I did try, but I know nothing about power control panels or which tangled wires lead where. Neither does George, nor Mitchell, nor any of the adults who took shelter here."

Fair enough. If they could have done it, they would have already.

"All right. I'll give it a shot."

"I'll have a radiation suit and gas mask ready for you. Weapons as well. Ah—if there's anything you need to check in the security room first—"

"I'll wait here."

I nodded and let the Teacher hurry off, then looked over the room's contents. Nothing particularly special. I would have liked to haul out an entire computer tower if possible, but I could do that inside the bunker just as easily. Better to keep things light and focus on trading for—or taking—valuable goods.

"Here we are. Change into these."

I turned toward the Teacher as he returned with clothes. Across his chest he wore a lightweight ballistic vest that protected only the torso, and in one hand he carried something long and black.

"…A cane?"

"A self-defense weapon. Enough to look after my own skin, at least."

—Whoosh.

The cane in his grip sliced the air with a sharp edge. The motion itself was economical, yet the parted wind struck my face hard enough to sting.

—Whirr.

His fingers flicked; the cane spun once, started toward his waist, then paused. He cleared his throat and tapped the floor a couple of times instead.

"Ahem. Well then, I'll be waiting by the entrance."

Looking faintly embarrassed, the Teacher walked lightly toward the dim candlelight. Until now I had only noticed the red skin. Looking closer… for someone called "Teacher," those shoulders were far too broad.

—Clink, clatter, clatter.

"You know the drill, Teacher?"

"No need to worry. This isn't our first day doing this."

"…I really wish it would become a one- or two-day job."

Crude weapons—kitchen knives taped to wooden poles—caught my eye. Compared to the Rebirth Church people, who carried at least a few single-shot or automatic rifles each, the armament here looked painfully thin. This was a shopping mall, for crying out loud—had they never found a gun shop?

"By the way—what did you say your name was?"

"Hyunwoo. Lee Hyunwoo."

"An unfamiliar name."

"Should I keep calling you Teacher?"

"I would appreciate that. The title has rather stuck by now… and it helps me feel that I have truly been 'reborn.'"

Every time the word "rebirth" came up, I was forced to remember the Rebirth Church. The Teacher was remarkably gentle compared to those fanatics, yet the association lingered.

"So why 'Teacher,' exactly—"

"Hold a moment."

We walked out into the corridor, kept walking, and passed a dead elevator. Pale figures stood ahead on the path we meant to take.

—Thud, thud, thud.

"Urgh… ugh… uh…"

Zombies. It had been a little while. I started to raise the shotgun; a red hand closed over the barrel.

"Would you leave this to me?"

The Teacher smiled, grip firm on his cane. And then—

—Shhhrrrk.

"…A cane sword?"

"If you come too close you might get hurt. Give me a little room."

I stepped back two paces. The body lit by the flashlight vanished from my field of view in a single breath.

—Thuk, crick, thuk.

Ankle, knee, then jaw. Three precise cuts dropped the zombie and left its lower jaw hanging in tatters.

"Urgh… ugh… uh…"

As it crawled, the Teacher drew a hammer from his belt.

—Crack. Crunch.

Two clean blows split the skull. The parasite writhing inside the brain was finished under his boot. Not a wasted motion in the entire sequence.

—Slice, grind, crunch.

He carved a path down the corridor alone and left a spray of blood in his wake. I never pulled a trigger, yet the hallway became a slaughterhouse.

"Hmmm."

The Teacher took a towel from his sling bag and calmly wiped his face. Then he looked at me.

"Any blood on you elsewhere?"

"Uh…"

"A joke. Even if there were, you wouldn't see it on that skin. Hu, hu, hu, hu."

He wiped the blade clean on a corpse's clothing and slid it back into the scabbard with practiced ease.

"People used to say that in the shadows all you could see were teeth and eyes. These days it's only in a bloodbath that teeth and eyes are all that show."

"…Shadows?"

"Old history, in the end."

He walked unhurriedly between the bodies and opened a door painted thick with blood.

"This way."

The moment we stepped inside, I saw a familiar generator and distribution board. Oil into the generator. For the panel, I popped the steel padlock with a makeshift key and checked the interior.

"Basement, first floor, second floor. Lighting circuits all off."

"Cameras and the rest of the power can come on."

In the game the board layout used to pop up as a neat 2-D graphic. Even without any labels, my hands flicked the switches on and off as if I had done it a hundred times, then closed the door.

"The outlets will have current now too."

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"Excellent."

Looking pleased, the Teacher clapped twice, stepped into the corridor to check the status, and beckoned me forward.

"Then if you would just get the cameras up on the security-room computers, I'll prepare the grain I promised."

"How much?"

"Shall we say four potatoes and a handful of wheat?"

"Four potatoes and a handful of wheat?"

"You know how hard it is in times like these to find living seed that still germinates. Truly hard."

I wanted a little more, but there was no help for it. Four potatoes would multiply quickly if nothing went wrong. And in the middle of winter, on a surface thick with radiation, getting four intact seed potatoes at all was no small thing. I decided to count it a solid haul and headed back down the corridor. The door we had come through appeared almost at once.

The problem was…

"Ugh."

Nail gouges and clotted blood covered that door. I hadn't noticed them on the way out.

"Whether they sense human warmth or not, the parasite-infected corpses keep gathering here. No matter how often we clean, that door stays the same. Frustrating."

"So that's why the people carry those crude spears."

"Sharp eyes. Still… it's dangerous work, so I usually handle it myself."

Which explained the absence of bloodstains on the wooden poles.

"Hmm."

"Have you thought of a solution?"

A person would simply see and avoid it, but for zombies or anything short on brains, a floor trap worked beautifully. While expanding I usually skipped them because I had to pass the same corridor so often, but once the expansion was finished, an electrified mat became extremely useful. The idea surfaced clearly.

"I'm thinking of laying down a device that fries zombies with electricity."

"…And you can make one?"

"If you supply the materials… and throw in a few more seeds."

—Thud, thud-thud, thud-thud, thud.

"It's the Teacher! Open up!"

—Creeeak.

As the door swung open, the Teacher nodded readily.

"Eight potatoes. A full bag's worth. And two handfuls of wheat."

"Wire, steel rods, electrical cable, wire cutters, insulating tape, and a car battery. A welder would be ideal, but—"

"A welder…"

"As far as we know, we don't have one, Teacher."

"That's fine. I have other methods. Ah—pen and paper too."

Another handshake sealed the deal.

"And don't forget the security room."

I stripped off the gas mask and half of the radiation suit; materials immediately poured out in front of me.

"Let's see."

I laid two steel rods parallel and stretched wire between them in a tight lattice. No welding, so I bent and twisted every joint until it locked. After snipping the ends clean with the cutters, I set the finished mat on the floor.

—Scritch, scritch.

I stripped the insulation from the cable ends and taped both terminals firmly to the mat. All that remained was to clamp the free ends onto the battery.

"Come over here and watch."

I called the adults who were guarding the door. Even the children seemed curious; they edged closer and sat carefully beside the grown-ups.

"Careful."

I connected the cable to the battery, then picked up a leftover scrap of wire. The gloves were dry enough…

—Zzzzt.

"Whoa!"

"Wow!"

Gasps rose all around.

"Right now current is flowing."

I carefully unclamped the cable from the battery and touched the wire to the mat again. This time there was no sound.

"Now it's safe. Everyone follow that much?"

"Yeah, that much is easy."

"It's what they teach in science class when you're a kid, right? Positive, negative."

I opened the door and slid the finished mat right in front of the threshold, then fed the cable out through the gap beneath the door and set the car battery where everyone could see it.

"Absolutely, absolutely do not go near this while it's live. If you ever need to go outside this door, unclamp the battery first, then use something dry like a towel to poke the wire from under the door. Tap, tap—check ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it. Understand? Especially keep the children away!"

"We guard this door in twelve-hour shifts anyway, so it shouldn't be a big problem."

"We're too scared of the monsters to go near it. Only the Teacher opens that door and goes out."

One child raised a hand and spoke carefully; the others nodded in agreement. I half-expected someone to claim they weren't scared at all, just to be contrary.

"Well then… next is the security room…"

"Clamp on—bzzzt. Clamp off—safe."

"So we only turn it on when zombies are right in front?"

"When the battery dies we just swap in a fresh one. Still, that was seriously fast."

"We've got a few batteries in the storeroom!"

"Car batteries are easy enough to find outside—lots of cars. But… I guess the Teacher would have to go get those too?"

"Hmm… no choice, right? Not unless someone gets reborn. And even then, how many reborn people have skills like that?"

"That guy made it all the way here with just one gun."

"He's no ordinary guy either. After he passed out he never stopped working—helped Mitchell, then went straight out with the Teacher and came back."

"Yeah… maybe. And how long did it take him to build that thing?"

I left their chatter behind and hurried toward the security room. A glance at my wrist told me the sun was already close to setting again. I couldn't keep spending time like this without making contact. If a rescue party got sent after me and ran into Screechers…

—Click.

I entered the security room, powered up the computer, and launched the camera software.

A few feeds showed only black—power dead or the cameras themselves broken—but I found the angle that covered the electrified trap. The wrecked first-floor zone as well.

—Knock, knock.

The Teacher gently rapped on the open door, carrying two cloth bundles and a length of white fabric. He smiled at me. The red skin was beginning to feel almost familiar.

"Finished with the work?"

"Trap installed as promised, and I taught everyone how to run it."

"Splendid. The children were already excited. They're calling it the Crackling Floor—they invent nicknames so quickly. Hu, hu, hu…"

He opened the grain bundles and nodded.

"Here—potatoes, and here—wheat grains. Is the amount satisfactory?"

"…It's enough."

"And this is a small gift."

—Flap.

A sheet of fabric printed with winter camouflage unfurled in front of my eyes.

"The flurries have passed and the wind has gone quiet. Even the crows seem exhausted after their last frenzy and are lying low. It is never truly safe, of course, so please accept this small gift of mine."

Camouflage print good enough to make into clothing. Winter pattern especially—something you could only get on the surface…

"Are you sure you can spare this?"

"The surface holds a great many things. I brought it out of curiosity, and if you will take it, that only makes me happier. Hu, hu, hu…"

Wrap myself in this and I could cross the river safely. One weight off my mind.

"Our meeting was brief, yet I believe it proved mutually beneficial."

"…Talking as if we'll never see each other again feels a little—"

"It would be better if we did not meet again."

He handed over the gifts and looked down at me quietly.

"Of course I can never fully understand the trials ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠you have endured, the things you have experienced, or the hardships that tempered your body and mind. No one can ever know another completely—whether their skin is the same color as ours or has been completely stripped away."

"…"

"Even when your body is exhausted you still devote yourself to people with whom you share no bond, and you freely display your talents for the sake of others. That is a truly admirable way to live—and precisely why I must give you this warning. Please understand."

"What kind of warning?"

"No matter how strong your stamina, no matter how many hardships, sins, and trials you have crossed… every human life is only one. The opportunity granted by the One above is only one."

He ran a hand over his ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠own unscarred face and body, offering a faint smile. Then, wearing the cane now like a proper sword at his side, the Teacher stepped aside to clear the path.

"I am glad chance and circumstance brought us together. Now I will wish you fortune in battle. May blessing also rest upon your community."

"…Thank you."

"The gratitude is ours."

I blew out the candle that lit the security room; only the soft glow of the computer remained in the dark. Outside, lively voices still echoed.

"My people may stop by here for trade someday."

"No—please, the surface is too dangerous…"

"By then I can promise that crows will no longer be a problem."

An excellent swordsman of good character who protected children. Someone who regularly scouted the surface and cleared zombies in close combat without taking a single wound. Recruiting him was out of the question, so I at least needed to build a friendly relationship.

"I have medicines. Antibiotics and vaccines I recovered from what looks like a pharmaceutical company's stock inside a bunker. Plenty of them."

"Antibiotics… vaccines…?"

"I'm storing them properly under refrigeration. I can send those as trade goods."

"…There isn't much we could offer in return for something so precious."

"No matter how good the radiation suit or the gas mask, there are still places we can't go—places that New Skins… people who have been reborn… can reach."

"Hmm."

"When I need something, you could try to obtain it for me—without pushing yourself too hard."

"…Vaccines, antibiotics… growing children who are still fragile need them. One day, when everyone has been reborn, we may no longer depend on medicine, but…"

After a long silence he finally, reluctantly, held out his hand.

"When you are certain you can reach us safely… let us meet again then."

I gripped that hand firmly.

Unexpectedly—unexpectedly—the hand of someone who had been reborn was taut, smooth, and warm. A strange sensation.

"Haaah."

The moment I lifted the camouflage tarp, I felt how thoroughly soaked with sweat I was inside. Crawling all the way from the river had not been easy—but still. Constantly throwing my body into rough work made both stamina and energy keep growing; I could feel it. The trade-off… insomnia was probably locked in by now.

That stuff—what was it? Chocolate? And military coffee.

—Creak. Creak.

I carefully folded the camouflage tarp into my pack, then immediately spun the hatch open. The hatch felt heavy as lead; I hauled it up, gripped the ladder, and climbed down one rung at a time.

How long since I left… Looking at the date, two days had passed since that day of work and the return trip. Not having made contact still nagged at me, but first things first: report that I was alive.

—Thump, clang, thump, clang.

I reached the bottom of the ladder and pushed aside the plastic sheeting.

"…"

Beyond the second plastic sheet sat the still-powered radio, the Rangers' weapons, a candle, and…

Curtis, shotgun raised and aimed straight at me.

"You—"

"Curtis, it's me."

I carefully raised both hands and nodded. Curtis pressed a hand to his face, then made a lowering gesture.

"Take it off for a second. You can put it back on after."

I carefully removed the gas mask. Curtis hesitated a beat—

"There's no monster that wears a person's skin and imitates their memories, right?"

"Giant spiders suck people dry and leave only the skin, but as far as I remember there's nothing like what you're describing."

Only after hearing that did he lower the gun.

"Because of you I've gone from happy to furious and back again—feels like I've re-lived every emotion of my entire life."

"…About that—"

"Explanations later. Right now you wash up and go straight to Dietrich… the doctor."

"Something happen?"

Curtis's eyebrows twitched; he let out a long breath.

"…What the hell is going through your head, acting like nothing happened out there?"

"It wasn't nothing. It's just…"

"No, never mind. Yeah, well… I figured out a long time ago you're no ordinary person. A few screws loose, too."

So something really had gone down.

"Anyway… get to the doctor. You need to swallow some of those Prussian Blue pills or whatever they're called and start pissing out radiation right away."

I turned the faucet and let water run over my body. Only then did the muscles begin to scream.