Chapter 236
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 236
Chapter Title: Stay of Execution (8)
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“How the hell are we supposed to deal with something like that? Just getting close to it would kill you.”
Muttering to himself, Alejandro made a horrified face. Schulz shot back.
“You idiot. If it was that lethal a radiation dose, those Ivan bastards would be wearing full MOPP gear. They must’ve fought endlessly even before this division happened—do you really think they handed out dosimeters but not protective suits?”
He had a point. Geiger counters had a pretty low measurement ceiling to begin with. Even holding one up to a banana made it click away. That was because bananas contained the radioactive element potassium, and eating ten of them exposed you to one microsievert of internal radiation. You’d need ten million to be in mortal danger.
Boom, thud. The door in the screen shook as if it might shatter any second, and dust from the ceiling rained down. Winter roughly gauged the distance between the door and the soldiers—like he was measuring the gap to a Grumble. No corrections applied here. It was personal experience, a sense honed in a world rife with radioactive contamination.
Around two to three hundred microsieverts. That’s what the counter would read if you held it up to a mutant.
Of course it was harmful. The inside of its body was probably even more contaminated. But it wouldn’t be enough to overwhelm a mutant, whose flesh surpassed human limits. The human body had DNA repair capabilities too. The real question was what effect the radiation had on mutants.
“Fire!”
Russian soldiers’ aimed shots concentrated through the splintered door gap. Then someone switched to full auto, spraying bullets before tossing the rifle. Others wailed, screamed, and clawed at their heads as they fled. The screen whipped around for a moment. “Cowardly bastard!”—probably a curse spat at the fleeing back. When the camera owner turned forward again, a grotesque woman was closing in. Her body torn and thorn-studded from squeezing through the door crack. Bang! Her head snapped back, a spent casing flying. The nude corpse rolled forward from momentum.
The final resistance didn’t last long. With all ammo expended, the Russian soldiers were finally driven onto the rooftop. The Americans here sighed or reddened their eyes. A sense of kinship with those fighting the same battle elsewhere. Empathy grew deeper the closer it hit to home.
The feed cut there. Moments later, the correspondent’s subdued voice flowed out.
“The relevant authorities have released the identity of the private who sent the footage up to now. Staff Sergeant Evgeni Leonov of the 31st Guards Airborne Brigade. We pray for the souls of him and his comrades to rest in peace.”
The brief combat footage made it hard to grasp what made the Russian mutants special.
Morales radioed in.
[Major, could you step out for a sec? A company-sized force including armored vehicles is approaching from four kilometers north-northwest. Looks like that provisional company we expected, but they’re way ahead of schedule.]
“Got it. Be right there.”
Winter gestured for the rest of the team to stay put.
“No need to all rush over for something that’s not a fight. Rest up. Change the channel.”
It was an order. Schulz took the remote with an awkward smile.
Outside, armed civilians were gathered, buzzing with chatter. Peering through binoculars in the direction Morales indicated, Winter spotted a column led by a tank. The trailing vehicles were so varied it didn’t feel like a single unit. They’d probably salvaged abandoned ones to pick up speed.
A little over a minute later, the lead tank rolled through the ranch’s main gate. Nearly ten people perched on the turret and hull—like an Indian commuter train. The senior among them was a captain. He jumped down, looked around, then snapped a salute at Winter. Returning it, Winter dismounted and approached, offering his hand.
“Good to see you, Captain. You’ve been through hell.”
“Thank you. Only now does it really sink in that I’ve survived. We’ve been in your debt these past few days.”
The clasped hand trembled faintly. His tightly pressed lips made his feelings easy to read.
“But what’s with these tanks and APCs? We had no intel on this.”
At Winter’s question, the captain nodded.
“We were originally moving on foot, but we changed plans when we saw perfectly good vehicles just sitting there. We had wounded and others who couldn’t walk well. We scavenged batteries and fuel in Cloverdale. With ammo on hand, we figured hit-and-run ops were feasible. Fuel transport was a pain without tankers, but it saved us a ton of time in the end. The op codes were easy enough to get from higher up.”
Like in San Miguel, motels and gas stations were usually near highways—on the outskirts of towns and villages. So Captain Rodney Banks hadn’t taken much of a risk.
“No casualties?”
“None. The towns looked deserted on the surface.”
“Good. Wise call. You probably know already, but I’m in command until we reach base. Anything to pass on?”
“I don’t have the full picture myself. We assembled in just five days... But there are a lot of mentally unstable troops, so watch out. I hear there are civilians here—better to keep them apart if possible. Risk of civilian incidents.”
“I’ll handle it. Just point them out. Anything else you need?”
“Rest. Beds would be perfect.”
The captain let out a weary sigh.
Winter requested the police to isolate the civilians and assigned quarters to the provisional company. But some soldiers refused to enter the buildings. Claustrophobia from enclosed spaces.
It was naturally the officers’ job to handle them.
“Troops trapped in buildings right up until joining us mostly show those symptoms. Worst cases stayed in cabinets for two days straight. Lucky they didn’t go mad. On the flip side, that guy in the tank commander’s seat hates the outside. Says nowhere’s safer than inside a tank. Total mess. If it’s okay with you, Major, it’d help if you could check them one by one.”
The engineer staff sergeant saying this had a bum leg—only half a foot below the knee remained. Yet he was among the most mentally sound, hobbling around competently on improvised crutches.
“That’s no problem... But what happened to your leg?”
It looked like it’d been forcibly ripped off. At Winter’s words, the sergeant grinned.
“When the front collapsed, a ghoul bit my ankle. Don’t know if its bite force was insane or my boots were too light, but the teeth sank in instantly. So I blew it off.”
“...Blew it off?”
“Yeah. Wrapped a demo charge around my shin and detonated it right away.”
“...”
“While I was at it, wrapped one around the monster’s neck too and blew ‘em both! No medic, field kit already used up, so I cauterized the stump by burning C4 on it. Hahaha! What do you think? Pretty brag-worthy for life, right?”
C4 was plastic explosive—highly stable, so it burned like fuel instead of detonating when lit. Not impossible, then. But Winter doubted the story a bit.
“Huh, well, manly as hell. Impressive. First time I’ve met someone like you.”
The answer Winter gave was just what the man beautifying his loss wanted to hear. The sergeant laughed out loud again.
“Right? If I’d hesitated like some girl even for a second, I’d have turned into a monster. Thinking ahead on what to do if bitten made my hands move on instinct. Friends who’d heard the stories swore I’d never do it.”
He was a man struggling to endure the phantom pain of a missing limb. Truth was, everyone else was too. They had to praise themselves for holding it together. That way, hard pasts turned into fond memories.
“Lucky you got antibiotics in time. Could’ve died from infection.”
“Had ‘em on hand. Told you—thought ahead. Basic prep.”
“Name? Surname’s not enough.”
“Gary. Gary Halleway.”
“Gary Halleway. Got it.”
Now this tough guy could boast even more to family and friends. Hey, you know Major Han Gyeowol? Yeah, the one who was so impressed he asked my name. Hahaha.
Winter sent the satisfied sergeant to quarters, saying he’d handle the unstable ones. Better for the commander to lose sleep than risk an ugly incident now that ops were done.
One soldier had let a dislocated shoulder go untreated for lack of a medic. When ordered to report injuries first, he hesitated and stepped forward. Winter, by the bonfire with the building-avoiders, gestured for him to sit. Grabbing the limp arm firmly, the soldier flinched.
“Hold still. I’ll fix it.”
“Uh, it won’t go wrong, right? I’d rather wait and get it done properly at base. They’ll have medics or docs there.”
“We won’t arrive till tomorrow afternoon. Leaving it like this till then is worse. When’d it pop?”
“Day before last, falling from a window... Agh!”
Mid-sentence, Winter popped it back in with a sudden crunch. His technique was practiced, plus the correction from 「Emergency Treatment」 acquired in Paso Robles. The groaning soldier tentatively moved his arm, looking dubious.
“How’s it feel?”
“A bit stiff, but... uh, not sure. Uncomfortable when I move.”
Doubting made it hurt more unnecessarily.
“That’s from leaving it so long. The longer you ignore it, the more likely habitual dislocations or permanent damage.”
Winter trailed off. Disappointment flashed across the soldier’s face.
‘Wants to get sent to the rear, huh...’
He got it. Plenty wanted discharge even if it meant a disability.
The now-fixed soldier shuffled off to quarters, shoulders slumped, not a bit happier. Winter summoned the provisional company platoon leaders and ordered strengthened guard shifts.
Among the mentally troubled soldiers, some believed they themselves were infected.
“I-I gotta die. Gotta die. Kill me. Please kill me. Ugh, I’m turning zombie, turning zombie!”
He clawed at his face. He’d done it so often his scarred visage almost looked mutant-like—especially in the bonfire’s flickering shadows. At least the bulky gloves kept it from worsening. Why not tie his hands?
The private beside him—high school buddies who’d enlisted together—shook his head with a bitter look.
“Tying him made it way worse. Once he couldn’t even breathe. Thought you might recognize him anyway, Major... Sorry.”
“No need to apologize.”
“Damn, no face to show his mom.”
He didn’t look great himself. Hands shaking bad. Mild PTSD. Winter stepped away briefly and returned from the civilian-guarded warehouse with a case of high-proof whiskey. Upside-down glasses over each bottle. No need to conserve with departure tomorrow.
“Have a round, everyone.”
The first taker was the private hugging his crazy friend. He downed half a glass in one go—like swallowing pent-up rage.
But Winter’s presence wasn’t useless to all.
“Mind if I get some too?”
The one who edged into the bonfire circle was the tank crewman who’d sworn off leaving his vehicle. Winter hadn’t forgotten the face he’d glimpsed earlier. He handed him a glass.
“Good timing. Was gonna look for you.”
“Seeing you gives me this weird feeling, Major.”
“Weird how?”
“Hard to say... Like suddenly dropped into another world? Waking from a nightmare? Heh, tough to explain. Just fill it to the brim. Wanna forget it all.”
Winter poured him more than the others.
============================ Author's Note ============================
#Signed Books
Signed books are given as thanks to those who left reviews or gifted music, covers, etc. The author doesn’t sell them personally otherwise.
#Radiation
One microsievert is 1/100,000th of a sievert. Exposure to hundreds or thousands of microsieverts has no short-term effects on the body.
To have a chance of dying, you need 1+ sievert in a short time.
Take the bananas mentioned: if you ate a million a day, you might lose weight, but radiation poisoning could kick in. Diet tip.
#Q&A
Q. UnlimitedOne: @The question is how radiation’s implemented. Does resisting fallout from China’s trolling sprinkle magic dust around? Or eat radioactive material and consciously expel it via lungs? Either way, it involves adapting to rapid cell destruction from external high-energy bodies (smokes far away)
A. Not a huge secret, but not answering here. Haha.
Q. Epsilon00: @Yeah... Russia’s got Chernobyl, one of the top two radiation disasters. Plus Lake Karachay, scary stuff (mid)... No unreclaimed US areas with nuclear plants? Seems like a mutant that could pop up on US soil too...
A. Ones influenced by something unique to Eastern Europe. Actually flinched at one comment last chapter. Readers, be careful.
Q. Nuar: @(Strategy, mid, end) Hail Winter ball (whisper)
A. Comment too wholesome, skipped most. No, coupling’s coupling—how do you pair author and character? Needs some innocence cleansing.
Q. rumen: @Naver Books ch. 221 has a typo: ‘weak in combat power but’. Naver’s ‘weak, on the other hand’.
A. Sent original manuscript, requested fix, must’ve forgotten. Mentioning again. Thanks.
Q. SoundHam: @Random, but once Columbarium ends, what’s first thing you wanna do? Travel? Where? Never applied to Q&A before, but wanna chat with you during serialization—finally commented lol. Love the story as is, but curious about author!! Really love it!!
A. After finishing... wanna do nothing intensely. Corpse impersonation for a century, then when peace hits, read books with beer. Nothing pairs with good books like that. Chicken used to compare, but lately... uh...
Travel... Dreamed of Hokkaido’s open-air baths, but post-Fukushima, hard to trust the food—shivering alone. Can’t pack lunch either... Eat to support... shivering...
Thanks for the fun reads. Will strive for satisfaction till the end.
Q. Habika: @... Reread front, got a question. E-book vol. 3 p.201, 10.Trap part: Winter suspects midway, ‘Baby mutants infiltrated and newly infected?’ Why assume infiltrating ones are baby mutants? (end)
A. Don’t overthink. :) Heard their unique cries first.