Chapter 160
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 160
Chapter Title: The Distant Bridge, Alameda (7)
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At least the destination was close. A closed pier between yacht slips. There weren't many variants here. If they stuck to the plan, even taking the long way around for safety, the total distance wouldn't reach a kilometer. But moving cautiously would take more than an hour.
That wasn't unusual in combat. Sometimes half a day passed just advancing a hundred meters.
Suppose they ran into enemies in the fog. Assuming the enemies hadn't noticed them, they'd have to loop back around from a distance. Avoidable fights had to be avoided. The air was thick with humidity. The noise of an engagement would draw variants from the expanded audible range.
There were an unnaturally high number of variants near the inland waterway separating Alameda and Oakland. Was it just to keep humans out? Winter suspected there was more to it. Maybe they were learning about water beyond human observation. It was a hunch. No evidence.
'At this point, with the stalker showing up, there's still some time before other new strains appear.'
Even though they were in a bind because of the hunting dogs, Winter thought it was for the best. Better than delta ghouls or "Melville" showing up. Especially the latter.
The specialized aquatic variant accelerated the apocalypse dramatically. Its primary domain was underwater, so its numbers only grew, making sea supply routes increasingly precarious. The monster could surge from beneath a freighter's deck. In the water, even Winter was just prey. To fight it, you'd need at least superhuman "Swimming," "Environmental Adaptation," and custom automatic weapons.
In the old lore, they never appeared before delta ghouls, no matter how fast things progressed. This apocalypse was exceptional in many ways, but theta ghouls hadn't surfaced yet.
Padadak.
Tan Guosheng instinctively dropped low. Less combat ready, more cowering. Winter didn't flinch. It was a familiar sound. Cockroach wings. He'd experienced it in Atascadero already. And in countless refugee camps from the previous apocalypse. Let alone in life.
But it was an ominous sign. Where there were variants, there were roaches. They didn't seem to be avoiding people. Not normal. What did it mean?
They'd reached the first milestone.
"Rest easy. Forgive us for not bringing you back."
Tan Guosheng drew his greatsword. He cut a lock of the fallen soldier's hair. Winter gave him time. Tan wanted to win Kurt Lee's favor. Plus, the hair would be useful back home. They could hang it up and burn incense. Face mattered to Chinese men.
'Always practical benefits first...'
Even so, they never forgot a slight to their dignity.
Some famous Chinese author had said it: Face, fate, and grace were the three goddesses ruling the Chinese, with Face the strongest. Winter had learned that in life during middle school elective on Chinese culture. He couldn't recall the author's name. No Intelligence boost kicking in.
The naval officer sliced open the inside of the dead man's fatigues. Other countries etched tags on dog tags; the Chinese sewed them into uniform linings. He wrapped the hair in the cut lining and pocketed it.
"Thanks for waiting. Let's move."
Tan left the body and withdrew. Winter led the way.
As the puddle neared, the ground crunched underfoot. Salt-crusted grime. The standing water stretched into invisibility on the other side. Recalling the view from above, it wasn't that big. The fog was just that thick. Amid the murk, the water gleamed vividly red.
They passed an abandoned gas station, heading east. Wind blew from behind. It had pushed the fog along until now, but Winter didn't like it anymore. It could stop anytime. If the wind shifted, scents would come from ahead. In this environment, smell and hearing trumped sight.
Now it was a disadvantage. Their scent would drift forward. Winter was fine, but the officer reeked a bit.
A faint rustle came from ahead. Winter raised a fist. Tan tensed. The warning trajectory swept over Winter's body—pale for low threat, risk of accidental discharge.
Flank. Into the water. With hand signals, Winter veered into the puddle. "Crisis Detection" intensified, but he didn't rush. No splashing. The depth was the issue. Only knee-deep. He'd have to prone eventually. He bellied out, putting distance from shore. Tricky. His body wanted to float.
Fuzzy shapes ghosted in the fog. Approaching slowly. Not by sight. The nearest silhouette swiveled its head. Not a hunting dog, but smellers had existed for a while.
Once far enough, Winter dragged a submerged stroller for cover. Salt-killed grass helped too. Probably lush before the storm. Tan pressed close. His jaw chattered. He struggled for firing stance. Awkward water depth. Prone meant muzzle and face submerged; kneeling meant exposure.
Finally, they appeared. Most splashed barefoot. Pre-infection clothes were rags. Over half naked. One female ghoul, breasts swaying. Immune rejection scars on one. No lewdness.
A bird fluttered nearby, a California quail. It perched on a dead branch in the puddle's center. Pecked around, whatever it sought. Four black crest feathers bobbed like a topknot.
Koo-koo-kuk! Koo-koo-kuk!
Chirps cut short. The ghoul snapped its head around. Staggered closer. Splash, splash. A sizable pack followed. The fog parting to birth death.
The bird warily eyed the hungry horde. But didn't fly. How close before fleeing? Tan's shakes worsened. A faint "eek." He startled at his own sound. Unconscious slip. Mud squelches amplified. "Survival Instinct" didn't spike. Variants' noises drowned it.
Fight now.
Tan's desperate hand and eye signals. Distance was humanity's weapon. But Winter judged staying put better. Cover was solid. Shh—finger to lips. Tan clenched teeth, lowering till the philtrum submerged.
Variant stench thickened. Rotten meat under your nose. So many decaying bodies warped scent distance into nerves.
The ghoul crossed twenty-one feet. Where knives outpace guns, it reached under the bird's branch.
Winter guessed the ghoul's dilemma.
How to eat that?
The variants were starving. Even ones herding citizens for airdrops lacked food. Why else evolve metabolic suppression?
This horde woke for Winter and Tan.
The pack milled around the ghoul. Uneven steps neared, receded. Detection loomed repeatedly.
If he could just dive briefly.
But Winter stopped the officer with a submerged grip. No face in the red water. Hygiene aside, salinity was worse. Red meant max brine. Eyes in that? Disaster. Mucous membranes hate osmosis. Pain would blind him awhile.
The bird flew.
The ghoul, knees bending for pounce, teeth-clacked. Then splashed away. Others followed.
Winter thumbed backward. Bypass for now.
They crept back, gaining speed. "Survival Instinct" stayed quiet. No immediate impalement worry.
But stomping opaque water too fast? Tan stumbled. Winter barely caught his back as he toppled. Even Winter's agility had limits sans noise.
Way off planned path.
Over a collapsed fence into a building yard. Secluded quiet.
Hah, hah. The officer, who'd rationed breaths, now gasped wildly. Body quaking.
"You okay?"
"Ahh! My, my life... sh-shortened by t-ten years at least."
Tongue sluggish too. Drool unnoticed.
"Anyway... wh-where are we?"
The naval officer scanned anxiously. Bare trees, rusty spring horse, faded slide inside the fence. Daycare yard, probably.
Winter reassured him.
"Took longer than planned, but we're on track. North-northwest from here is that intersection. The one with abandoned U.S. military vehicles."
He eyed the door to the building. Low threat vibe. But you never knew.
"Sure? Damn, I can't get my bearings. We just charged blind, no direction."
That's how it looked to him. Fair enough. No skill buffs.
Lucky gust stirred the stagnant fog. Distance flashed. "See that apricot-tiled roof? South entrance to the Posey Tube."
The tunnel mouth towered over buildings. Winter pointed; Tan hesitated. Looked different from above.
"M-maybe another building? Looks like a church."
The overall shape mimicked one.
"Comrade Zhong, trust me. My eyesight's excellent. I can read the building's inscription now. Definitely not a church."
OAKLAND PORTAL. Engraved top front.
Ninety meters off.
Expert-edge "Map Reading" fed a precise map via "Memory." Paired with "Personal Firearms Proficiency," it sharpened visual estimation. Inevitable "Forgetting" blurred map edges. Accuracy would fade over time.
"No moving right now. Rest, then go."
"Sorry... about that..."
Fear flickered in Tan's eyes. Winter ditching him?
Tan slumped awkwardly, rubbing his rear.
"Sore front and back... Why?"
"Same here. High-salinity water. It'll pass."
Other world's viewers were probably tweaking senses now. Low pain still unpleasant.
Then. "Combat Sense" and "Crisis Detection" pinged faint but directional.
Winter shouldered his rifle. Stock firm. Inner sightline pierced dirty glass door into dim hall. Signaled Tan to stay.
Faint warning fit. Infected kids emerged. Stick-thin limbs.
"What the hell..."
Tan muttered, stunned. Words caught.
Unlike Atascadero newborns. Clothes proved once-human. But starved near death pre-infection.
'How'd kids like that get infected?'
Variants sense host state. Infect healthy corpses; devour the unfit. These skeletal kids were prey, not hosts.
The young plagues couldn't stand properly. Crawled like broken dolls. Yellow teeth parted. Soundless to Winter. Just one glass pane between.
Several pushed the door. It swung in, out, repeatedly.
"I'll handle it."
Winter lowered muzzle, drew greatsword.
Mid-this, a question.
These kids should've been in metabolic suppression. A lookout would've alerted Winter first.
'Starved to brink, so they wake naturally anyway?'
Sounded right.
Door open. Looked down at crawlers. Flesh clung to bone; cervical gaps visible. Winter regripped for downward thrust.
Moments enough. Easy. Unease wouldn't linger.
============================ Author's Notes ============================
#Q&A
Q. Creator: @ If the protagonist's game-body sync rate is high, how much mental discomfort from certain situations gets transmitted? Like post-nut clarity, for example.
A. Without prevention options on, shock death's possible. Need I explain more? :)
Q. Lucid Dream: @ You mentioned Korean Lit major? So novel knowledge—was it prior knowledge or researched per item?
A. Some known, some researched. Assume most needing verification are the latter. How'd I know U.S. base life? No ROK Army vet, no service. Ample time era for verification.
Like the Atascadero 'Omens' part: Hospital doubled as prison, internals unpublished. Headache. Found clues on job sites. Ex-staff reviews, then Facebook via names/ages/locations.
Not perfect. But basics secured. Writing's about feel.
Folks, SNS wastes life, but one man's waste is another's muse.
Q. BlitZkrieG: @ Paperbook have extras like side stories or bonus art?
A. Dunno specs yet. Few illustrations, maps mentioned... We'll see on release.
Q. s474: @ Naver version differ slightly or identical?
A. Identical except softened phrasing in ch. 24.