Chapter 215
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 215
Chapter Title: End of April (2)
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However, at the same time, Winter judged that the Department of Defense had made the best decision.
Sending civilians into military operations carried significant risks, but the lives that could be saved in doing so had to be considered. This choice might allow thousands, or even tens of thousands more, to survive. They would just need to maintain tight control.
It couldn't have been a unilateral decision by the Department of Defense. The President seemed to have half-abandoned his political career. The upcoming election in November was worrisome. Americans plunged into panic by this crisis might make extreme choices.
“How bad is the situation?”
For the first time, the old man's smile faded at Winter's question.
“I don't know the details myself. But the talk around is that there are hundreds of thousands in the Sierra Nevada mountains and another few hundred thousand in the central plains waiting for rescue and supplies. Our pilots are being concentrated there too. Even by regulations, we can't land recklessly even if there are no zombie bastards around. Sometimes survivors are more dangerous than the plague.”
“That makes sense. They've probably all lost their reason.”
The Sierra Nevada mountains spanned up to 100 kilometers east to west. Its highest peak rose over 4,000 meters in rugged terrain. If hundreds of thousands of U.S. troops were mixed in there with even more variants, the chaos would be indescribable.
It was impressive enough that Winter's temporary squad members were managing to stay calm.
“It's familiar. It was the same in those godforsaken Vietnam jungles. Comrades screaming that they couldn't take any more, but there were so many who didn't care. Once, a squad leader with flipped eyes even pointed a gun at my head and threatened me. But I can't say that guy was incompetent.”
The old man chuckled softly while sharing such stories. He was a pilot who fought allies on the ground and enemy fire from the sky. The frequent smiles of someone whose life had been hard were an effort to protect his mind.
“Is this all of the Lieutenant's group here?”
“No. We came out for recon because planes pass this area periodically. The main force has 170 officers and soldiers, plus 11 other personnel, for a total of 181.”
“Ha! That's the largest survivor group I've found! Where are they now?”
“We've set up a base south of Point Reyes Station.”
“Where's that? Let me see the map for a sec!”
The old man gestured toward the cockpit. It meant to point it out on the navigation equipment. Luke, learning the company's position, was surprised at how close it was to the coastline.
“At this distance, the Navy might dispatch a rescue team. If I report back the Lieutenant's survival, it'll probably turn the White House upside down. A helicopter formation will fly in before sunset. That airspace is restricted for some reason, but it'll be ignored. Heh heh!”
Winter forced a wry smile at the veteran's words.
“Well, that might be difficult.”
“Hmm?”
“Have you never felt limitations in aerial search and rescue?”
“Ah. I see. You mean they'll need ground forces to move.”
“High probability. Aren't we the only unit in this area maintaining anything like a chain of command? The high command has reason to covet us.”
Winter nodded, but that wasn't all.
The White House would want to exploit a war hero's survival as a political event. In Winter's view, simply returning alive wouldn't suffice. With so many troops' fates still unknown, they couldn't just say, Lieutenant Han Gyeowol is back! Let's all celebrate!
A noble death might be preferable. To redirect the public outrage boiling over General Yang Yongbin's nuclear strike. Of course, surviving to the end was best for everyone. Even without immediate evacuation, supply support would come first, Winter thought.
Without knowing the exact atmosphere east of the quarantine line, it was still speculation. But if preserving the world order was the goal, such a development wasn't bad.
For the variants, breaking the quarantine line was priority, so large forces wouldn't turn this way. In a sense, it was activity in the rear of the front lines. Worth attempting if ammo was sufficient.
The old soldier nodded.
“Makes sense. The higher-ups think differently from folks like us. Anyway, let's set a rendezvous point. I almost forgot the important part.”
A rendezvous point was a place to meet again. Primarily, it would be Olema's company base, but they needed second and third locations in case they had to abandon it. Winter, familiar with the terrain, pointed out three or four spots in succession. He also entered the coordinates into his tactical PDA. Then he asked,
“Anything special around here? Other survivors...”
“Nothing particular today.”
Even amid this, the radio static was growing stronger. Since the things used bio-waves like radar, they were approaching the airspace where the plane had vanished. Accordingly, the exchange between the old and young war hero grew more concise. Food? We hunt. Oh ho. Like that.
Luke jotted down Baker Company's status as much as possible in a small notebook. It would greatly aid the quarantine command's judgments and reports. Including supplies needed for the next drop.
The special request was heavy machine gun ammo. Reviving the Humvee's firepower would vastly expand tactical options. They also requested grenades and anti-tank rockets.
Using 「Combat Sense」 and 「Crisis Detection」 to gauge the distance to the jamming source, Winter urged the old man.
“You should head out now. Still some distance before visual range, but better to allow margin for safety. Need time to shake them off too. No guarantee there's only one Trickster. Even if not a 「Silent One」, it could be quiet.”
It was cunning enough to understand radio silence.
“Damn. Such a shame.”
Grumbling, the old soldier pulled a booklet from beside the cockpit seat. Surprisingly, it was several comic books. He offered them to Winter.
“This is...”
“If it's not too much trouble, could you sign them? I was saving them for my grandson back in Houston, but I met the hero himself today!”
He burst into laughter. A normal civilian pilot would panic at the growing static, but this was a veteran's composure and gravitas.
The comics weren't officially published. With Luke's permission, Winter quickly skimmed them. Even after many apocalypses, he'd never seen comics where he was the hero.
The protagonist looked and was named just like Han Gyeowol. From the vividly colored first page, blood and guts sprayed, and half the pages were plastered with intense sound effects and profanity. The Winter boy in the drawings roared.
“Ha ha! The plague is quarantine!”
“Killed a Grumble today! Tomorrow, I'll shatter a Trickster to pieces! A-men!”
“Ahh, Ghouls! Ghouls! Why only Ghouls! Aren't there monsters worth the kill!”
“Beta Grumble! You cowardly XX! Pissed yourself seeing me!”
“Burned 10,000 at the San Miguel intersection!”
“Half-dead trash in Santa Maria! I'll finish you off! With this gun blessed by the Lord!”
“...”
His past exploits were bizarrely exaggerated or distorted.
Winter Alliance members appeared too. Yura was inexplicably a warrior in tiger skin and tank top; Minwangki an assassin with daggers; Hanbyeol, already called Miss Trigger Happy or Trigger Witch even at Fort Roberts, wasn't even human-shaped.
‘Why's there light from the eyes?’
Yet this absurd comic reflected U.S. government policy. They were using refugees as military resources, after all.
“Won't be good for your grandson's education.”
After quickly signing and returning them, Luke looked very satisfied.
“Better to laugh at fear than be devoured by it! A Texas man needs bravado! Anyway, thanks! My grandson's a huge fan of the Lieutenant!”
Before leaving, the old soldier asked for a handshake. His grip was hot and firm.
“Even if the eras differ, we're comrades! May God's blessings be with you! Stay safe! For yourself! For those who cherish you! And for this great nation!”
It wasn't just Winter. He conveyed thanks and encouragement to each soldier maintaining watch. He even joked about the crackling radio being noisy, with a smiling face.
The light plane had kept its engine running. With a putt-putt whir, the propeller generated strong thrust. It rolled down the slope it had climbed on landing, accelerated for about 300 meters, and lifted off lightly. Despite the uneven ground, it only wobbled briefly right after takeoff.
The aircraft circled once and veered in an unexpected direction. To deceive any Trickster.
“We'll take a detour too. Those bastards know what a plane landing means.”
The soldiers accepted Winter's order with faces tinged with sadness and regret.
Still, the ammo crates on the truck were a huge hope. Over the past few days, each platoon had expended most of their remaining live rounds on survivor rescues. Thanks to that, Captain Langford's stress-induced hair loss had accelerated. He'd lost weight, gained wrinkles. He seemed to have no appetite, often clutching his upper stomach. The plight of a man responsible for over a hundred lives.
After resorting to sharing one magazine per shift due to ammo shortage, soldiers complained of severe insomnia and indigestion. Officers' eyes grew hollow as a bonus.
Once back today, the mood would completely refresh.
People needed hope to live. Expectation of a better tomorrow than today. Few joys rivaled it when one's efforts contributed.
A Grumble's roar echoed from afar.
‘They're coming soon.’
Even if most variant hordes swarmed the quarantine line, the scattered survivors' numbers meant plenty of monsters hunting them too. Baker Company's accelerating ammo consumption proved it. Despite Winter's feats, they'd fought seven skirmishes yesterday, using over a thousand rounds.
The worst was encountering special variants, especially Grumbles, before firepower reinforcement. A race between human and monster. With not even one grenade left, a Grumble's appearance would force the whole company to evade. Or the rapid response team lures it away at speed. Nothing to do but hope for quick resupply.
‘If I have to fight and kill it before then, it's not impossible...’
On the way back, Winter obsessed over the giant monster's weaknesses.
If forced to engage, a reinforced one might be better than a normal Grumble. Higher reinforcement meant stronger physical resistance, but from thicker, tougher hides. Joints where they bent cracked open, exposing flesh.
In group fights, devastating, but in one-on-one close combat, potentially more vulnerable than base forms.
Of course, exploiting that required getting lethally close.
Was there a better way?
Assuming unavoidable combat was habit for preparing for the worst. Plenty of time to ponder on the familiar route. As the company base neared, a spring sun shattered over a lake to the side. The alpaca herd still guarded their territory.