Chapter 202
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 202
Chapter Title: Survivors (5)
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Tap, tap, tap. The legs of the dead wild rabbit kept thumping against the ground. Post-mortem spasms.
Before touching the rabbit, Winter sprayed insect repellent. Just in case there were fleas or bedbugs clinging to it. Bedbugs especially needed caution. If they spread through the company, it wouldn't be a minor issue. Unless dulled by 「Environmental Adaptation」, even Winter would struggle to endure it.
After watching for a bit, he made a deep cut across the artery in the rabbit's neck. Then he grabbed the legs and hoisted it up. Fresh blood dripped steadily. Draining the blood was to reduce the gamey smell. Blood itself could be cooked and eaten, of course, but some soldiers would find it off-putting. It wouldn't help morale. Unless proper cooking was possible.
‘It's only just begun. If the haul is light, we can think again then.’
As Winter returned, Sergeant Morales greeted him.
“Good start, sir. At least we won't come back empty-handed.”
Even as he said it, he wasn't truly joyful yet. The rabbit weighed about as much as a rifle without its magazine. But after skinning and trimming the edible parts, it would be less than half.
Winter tied the rabbit under Excel's saddlebag.
「Tracking」 resumed. The farther they strayed from human-made roads, the more animal signs appeared. Among them were some unusual tracks. The horses, catching the scent of droppings, grew restless. Winter tried to soothe them and push on, but it seemed Schultz, the private first class, had spotted them too. Thinking he'd missed them, perhaps, Schultz called out to Winter.
“Lieutenant, sir, something here. Unusual tracks? They look fresh.”
“I saw them. But I'm not pursuing.”
“Uh... what animal is it?”
“Tiger.”
They must have thought it was a joke. Morales and Harper laughed along, but as Winter stared silently, they sobered up.
“For real? Not a bear?”
“Yes. Just look at the number of toes—it's feline. More likely tiger than lion.”
Harper looked skeptical.
“I'm not from around here, but I've never heard of tigers in this country.”
“Exactly. This one's not wild either. Probably some pet that got loose. No idea where it was raised, but it's amazing it's made it this far.”
The country with the most tigers in the world was the United States. Around ten thousand of them. Even neighboring Nevada had no restrictions on keeping them as pets. Illegal in California, sure, but people always want what they're told they can't have.
“Avoiding it because it's dangerous?”
Winter shook his head at Sergeant Morales's question.
“No way. Ammo's precious, but with automatic weapons, what's to fear?”
“Then wouldn't it be better to take it down? No idea if it'll taste good, but we're in no position to be picky. One tiger could feed the whole company.”
“I'm not hunting scavenging carnivores or omnivores. There were other signs on the way here too—coyotes and such—but I deliberately ignored them.”
“Why's that?”
“Who knows what they've been eating.”
Morales paused, then grimaced in realization.
“Damn. Didn't think of that. Might've eaten people or variants.”
“Variants aren't easy prey. Still, bombing runs would've left infected corpses everywhere. Weaklings like coyotes could've feasted easily. Wild tigers have the skill to hunt directly. Bears too. Better to leave them be. If they charge, I'll kill them.”
No known cases of interspecies infection or carrier status yet. The Department of Defense would've warned if there were. But this world had too many variables. Better safe than sorry.
The soldiers let it go.
How much farther did they go? Plenty of signs around, but few recent ones. They'd entered the woods before dawn, yet now pale, clear sunlight pierced the dense green canopy like laser beams. Winter found deer droppings and hesitated on whether to track when—
Gobble-gobble-gobble.
Bird calls echoed through the swaying branches. From a fair distance.
Wild turkey. Easy pickings. Winter held a finger to his lips. Sergeant Morales, about to speak, shut his mouth. But he looked puzzled. The sound was too faint for unaided ears.
Winter gauged the direction and closed in. The same pattern repeated, clearer now. It was a mating call. That's why hunters used similar tones in lures. With luck, he could bag two at once.
Even a hen would top four kilos. Worth the live round. Winter aimed his rifle from the saddle. His sight line threaded a narrow gap in the tangled branches. The soldiers held their breath, though some looked baffled. They couldn't see the target.
The instant leaves on a branch quivered, the turkey's bare head exploded in his tiny field of view—pop!
Flutter-flap!
The hen, startled by the tom's death, spread her wings from hiding. Unlike domesticated kin, these could fly—agilely too. But rising made her vulnerable. As she surged over the thick canopy, a rifle round snapped her neck.
Faint gunsmoke wisped from the silencer.
“Let's go.”
Winter slung his rifle and lightly spurred Excel onward. Haha. The soldiers laughed. Their mood lifted at last. A pair of turkeys was a fine haul. With flour and spices from the houses, they could stew it to stretch further.
Retrieving the hen and the head-shot tom, they felt substantial.
“Wow, this guy's huge. Over a meter? How much does he weigh?”
Schultz chuckled, comparing the limp tom to himself. It draped over his muscled torso. Winter took it briefly, tilting his head to estimate.
“About ten kilos. Half or more edible after butchering.”
Bigger than average. Might be tough with age, but the hen added a bit over four kilos as expected. And then.
“Morales, Schultz, Harper. I'll cover—you search for the nest nearby. Pair together means it's close. Right in laying season.”
Winter already knew the nest's spot, but he sent them anyway. Their morale mattered.
Not even a minute later, Private Harper found the nest, camouflaged in a grass clump.
“Here! One, two, three, four... oh, eleven!”
He held up the eggs triumphantly.
“You blockhead, too loud. What if variants hear?”
Harper flinched at Morales's scolding but just glanced around. He carefully stowed the eggs in Winter's saddlebag—no packs on the other horses.
“Sir, you're a better hunter than my dad.”
Winter tilted his head at Schultz's words.
“Your father hunted too?”
“Just a casual hobby. More family outing than serious hunt. But he rarely skipped seasons, and only bagged turkey once. Bragged endlessly about how tough they are. Mom got annoyed.”
Family talk was touchy in this world, but Schultz looked fine.
“He was right. We're lucky.”
Many hunters climb mountains all fall without a single turkey. Winter's own early runs, with few or no accumulated plays.
Winter backtracked a ways. Plan to resume from the deer droppings.
‘Animals are more plentiful than expected. What's going on?’
Too many signs for variant hordes to have swept through. Few fresh, sure, but even old ones were months recent. Unless like bears clawing bark, traces couldn't last longer. Even genius-level skills had limits.
Considering proximity to the North American West Coast outbreak origin, it was odd.
Maybe the variant group that veered this way was smaller than thought.
“What do you think?”
During the tedious ridge-crossing search, voicing the doubt, even the two privates joined Sergeant Morales in pondering.
“Doesn't seem like they'd come this way much.”
Morales's conclusion. Before he continued, Winter's arm blurred. Whoosh—thunk! The greatsword quivered in the dirt. Its spinning edge left a red smear. The ground squirrel lay bisected, head split. It had been listening from the brush.
“Huh.”
Ignoring the sergeant's amazed grunt, Winter veered to retrieve sword and squirrel.
“Why think that?”
Winter slit the small animal's throat, swung to shake blood. Ugh... Brain bits flying grossed them out, but Morales continued, frowning slightly.
“Nothing special. Variants were dumb at first too—flocked to people and crowds. At the highway fork, they'd pile toward the main road. Big cities close either way up or down. Defenses concentrated there too.”
More fights would've drawn more variants.
“Makes sense. Not 'lucky,' but it lowers our starvation odds here.”
Winter's words. Even now, a black bear eyed them warily from afar amid trees. Plump build—no starvation look. Ecosystem collapse should've driven top predators away.
“That guy's fearless. We look easy?”
As Morales said, the bear crept closer. Black bears were milder kin, but still beasts.
‘Smelled the blood.’
Otherwise, encounters were rare. Squirrel, rabbit, turkeys dripped from the saddle—easy trail to follow.
Separately, the approach felt off. Non-starving black bears rarely aggressed humans first. Maybe bad habits from variants or people. Or poor experiences.
Harper sighed.
“Hate wasting ammo on uneatable trash.”
One shot sufficed anyway, but Winter silently hefted his greatsword. Soldiers' faces twisted.
“No way—you're throwing the sword at that too?”
“No choice. If it gets too close, gotta kill it.”
“I meant, is that even possible...”
Playing dumb on purpose. Winter turned Excel to block bear from soldiers. Fear transmitted via reins—he suppressed with 「Riding」 control.
“Reckless. Just shoot it.”
Morales tense, finger itching—Winter signaled all clear.
Even bears ranked below Winter in 「Threat Assessment」.
Staring fixedly, the bear halted ambiguously, locking eyes. Bared teeth occasionally, but no closer. If it fled, easy—but showing backsides was risky, so they couldn't leave either.
‘Just kill it?’
Time short, and good story for soldiers. Idle minds wander during rests.
Resolved, Winter whipped the reins. Excel lunged as bear flinched. At collision's brink, arm blurred. Greatsword flew unblockable—clang! Half-embedded in shaking head, it bounced off reflexively.
Enough time as head swung.
In passing instant, Winter gripped the crowbar.
Crack!
Lockbreaker pried vertically into thick skull. To avoid falling, he released the handle. Excel thundered past. Greatsword breath stolen from start.
Reining to turn, bear was dying. Partial brain destruction—no instant death, but couldn't stand. End was moments away.
No need to watch. Mercy kill maybe.
Winter rode toward it. Snap, drip. He yanked crowbar deliberately hard. Thrashing black bear shuddered. Limbs went limp. Sticky threads stretched from pierced skull to lever.
Returning, soldiers stared in stunned mix. Bear, yet felled too easily.
“We'll never piss off the lieutenant again.”
Schultz's awed joke. Wiping splashed blood, Winter chuckled shortly.
By noon, hunt added a black-tailed deer pair and fawns.
National park made prime hunting ground. Stay awhile, make preserved rations? Plenty salt. Winter thought to suggest to Captain Langford.
============================ Author's Notes ============================
#Turkeys
In 1999, California fall season, about 27,000 hunters got Department of Fish and Wildlife permits. Statewide, 5,798 wild turkeys harvested. So, one in four hunters bagged even one.
Many were weekenders at private ranch hunts for fun, so pros differ—but turkeys are legitimately tough.
#Tigers
As of 2016, ~3,890 wild tigers worldwide. US Fish and Wildlife estimates 5,000-10,000 in America.
Wide margin shows govt indifference—regulate only Siberian/Bengal purebreds.
NGOs say 10,000+. Some claim 20,000+, but that's radical animal groups exaggerating—so story uses ~10,000.
Related source material attached. :)
#American Black Bears
Myth: North American black bears small, docile, never attack humans. Not always. North Carolina national park: over 1,000 aggressive incidents in 12 years. Many self-inflicted by teasing for food, but unprovoked attacks exist.
Bears are bears.
#Preview
Event next chapter.
#Edit
As of 12:50, last part changed hunted animal from pigs to black-tailed deer.
#Q&A
Q. Beetle-nim: @ How'd the chopper even fly.... If learned piloting, basics should be known... Or knew, fueled it up?
A. Even with mechanics/engineers, impossible. Field repair barehanded? No way. Can't even visually ID intact parts per airframe.
Q. Carpis-nim: @Wish Winter uses Tunguska Meteor or Tunguska event finisher on Chinese nuke terrorist. Fuel: Jakka-nim? Too much?
A. Worldbuilding ruined?... If novel ends like that, I'd get murdered. Haha.