Chapter 58
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 58
Chapter Title: #Trap (3), Camp Roberts
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In front of the outpost lay dozens of rows of spike strips—thorny lattice chains. Originally meant to block vehicles on the road, they were now a means to deny access to infected variants.
The soldiers dismounted to help the sentries clear them. Winter joined in. The sentries apologized.
“Sorry. We should’ve cleared them earlier, but we just got the call...”
“No need to apologize. It’s nobody’s fault.”
Clearing them wasn’t difficult. Each strip had a handle connected by a cord; a quick yank was enough to pull them aside. The only hassle was the sheer number.
Once Winter climbed back aboard, the sentries saluted.
“Safe travels.”
Jeffrey waved out the window. The convoy set off in unison. Immediately, a voice crackled over the radio.
「Platoon, maintain radio silence from now on until further notice.」
It was a natural order, considering the nature of their quarry.
The intermittent transmissions followed by position changes suggested the 「Trickster」 had learned human tactics. At the very least, it knew better than to spam jamming signals and invite a counterstrike.
‘Are these things exchanging knowledge?’
Even to Winter, this new variant posed dangerous potential in multiple ways. Communication was a powerful tool.
The driver didn’t push the speed. It wasn’t the road; they’d killed the headlights leaving camp. Driving by monocular night vision wasn’t conducive to boldness. The driver’s upper body kept leaning forward.
In the distance, faint noise from the periodically activated noise makers drifted in. It was for the camp’s safety.
Winter checked the tracker monitor displaying tactical info. It showed the vehicle’s position, friendly dispositions, mission objective, and more in detail.
The last signal presumed to be the 「Trickster」 had been detected in the hilly terrain southwest of San Miguel. Less than 5 km as the crow flies.
Of course, the actual route was longer. After nearly getting burned once, Jeffrey proceeded cautiously, swinging wide to the west for a southern approach into the operational area. The lead vehicle’s heading made it obvious.
“What’s that?”
Winter pointed at a passing landscape out the window. A facility with massive satellite antennas lined up in rows. No lights at all—proof it was abandoned.
“Something GPS-related, they say. Worried they’ll order us to secure it soon.”
GPS required ground control stations for coordinate and altitude correction. This was one of them. But with so many antennas, it likely served other functions too. Radar domes dotted the site.
After passing it and driving a bit farther, the lead vehicle’s gunner signaled a halt. The tracker showed roughly 1.5 km to the objective.
The platoon searched a farm on the southwest edge of the hills. Fortunately, it was empty—no variants.
“So, what now?”
Jeffrey gathered opinions. He extended one finger.
“Two choices. First, approach on foot, nice and quiet. We could really startle that goddamn trickster bastard. Downside: takes time, and it might slip away in the meantime. Hell, it could’ve bugged out already since we took our sweet time getting here.”
He extended a second finger.
“Second, assault with vehicles. High chance of detection from the noise, but it’s fast and hard-hitting. No matter how it runs, shaking us won’t be easy. What do you think? Which way?”
It looked like he was asking everyone, but really, it was aimed at Winter alone. Jeffrey and the soldiers all looked to him.
Those who fought in the field didn’t ignore gut instinct. The soldiers trusted Winter over their platoon leader. It might’ve stung a bit as platoon leader, but Jeffrey’s face showed no sign of it. He was heavier substance than his light appearance suggested.
“Both are uncertain, so let’s pick the safer one. Drive in. But how about squeezing from the outside on approach?”
“Sounds right. Mobility’s on our side, after all.”
True enough. From Winter’s experience in actual pursuits, the 「Trickster」’s speed was at best a fast human’s. Stamina was another issue, but overall, humans weren’t fast in the natural world. Jeffrey proposed again.
“Since we’re bringing the rides anyway, split into two teams? Three works too.”
Splitting forces was usually risky. But it depended on the situation.
They had eight Humvees. Most mounted machine guns, but some carried missile launchers. Overkill for a single platoon’s firepower.
And it was open terrain. Even with rolling hills, following ridgelines gave wide sightlines. Unlike cluttered urban areas. With enough distance, one Humvee could hold off twenty armed foes.
Winter agreed with Jeffrey.
“Two teams. Keeps numbers even. One team free to comms, the other maintains radio silence.”
“Speed differential’s good too. Herders and hunters.”
At night, vehicle noise carried kilometers depending on speed. Couldn’t rely solely on distant noise makers. Especially against sharp-eared foes that detected radio too.
So the fast-moving, chattering team herded, while the slow, silent one hunted. Spiraling in from opposite sides made escape hard.
“Then I’ll herd. Good luck, hunters.”
Jeffrey clapped Winter’s shoulder.
Agreement took just over three minutes. Everyone knew time was short.
The convoy split east-west. Four vehicles each, heading their ways. Jeffrey grabbed the radio and went wild.
「Jeffrey Bedell Brown’s Christmas Eve Radio! The Golden State’s finest star, Lieutenant Brown, about to rock your world!」
“...”
Winter turned down the radio volume. The driver gave a wry smile. Meanwhile, Jeffrey belted out carols—or something like them.
「FUCK! YOU! Merrily on hell! In hell! The guns are firing!」
It was “Ding Dong Merrily on High,” but unrecognizable. Winter turned it down further. Low enough not to miss senses sharpened by augmentation.
But nothing happened. Only deer startled, scattering as the night-shrouded vehicles appeared.
The search area was small to begin with. At 20 kph, ten minutes to cross. Flatland, no need to search.
Soon, herders and hunters rendezvoused.
“Hey, long time no see?”
Jeffrey tossed a lame joke.
“Definitely the spot.”
Tracker coords had 2.6–12.6m error margins. If the 「Trickster」 had been here, traces should remain. Jeffrey wandered aimlessly.
Winter shook his head.
“Useless. Ground’s frozen.”
Even in California, inland December nights froze solid. Recent rain had added moisture.
Winter stomped demonstratively. Thud. That was needed for prints. In sturdy boots, even then. A 「Grumbler」 maybe, but no 「Trickster」 tracks.
Normally dry, no grass trails either. No 「Tracking」 possible.
Jeffrey slumped.
“...What the hell. Anticlimax. Head back like this?”
As he spoke, the comms soldier in a vehicle gestured.
“Platoon leader! Anomalous signal! Coords updating!”
“Huh? Where?”
Jeffrey leaned into the vehicle. Winter checked a nearby Humvee’s monitor. Triangulated from camp and drones.
Jeffrey yelled.
“Shit! Close! Mount up!”
No time for details. Signal from just 1 km away—heading toward Camp Roberts.
Feeling the chassis buck over terrain, Winter thought it odd.
‘The cunning bastard from the hospital... same type exposing itself in open country?’
No time to ponder. Max speed, new coords reached. Turret gunner shouted.
“Target sighted! 10 o’clock! Range, at least 200!”
Hard for lead gunner Winter to see. Radio blared Jeffrey.
「Split! Vehicle 5 west side road!」
Driver yanked left. Chassis lifted right in sharp turn. Jeffrey stayed on pavement; Winter’s went dirt.
Target shifted to Winter’s 1 o’clock. Through windshield: abandoned fields, crop stakes, pale shape weaving. Tiny at distance.
Kwarang-kwarang-kwarang!
Machine gun roar like waterfall.
“Damn! Missing!”
Gunner called 200m; Winter’s corrected sight made it nearly 300. Hard to hit unaimed with coax.
Couldn’t drive into fields—stakes too dense. Military durability had limits.
Winter tapped gunner’s leg.
“Switch with me!”
Shout buried in fire. Twice more; gunner yielded, dropped back. Winter climbed up.
「Personal Firearms Proficiency」 gave 30% on coax. Winter skipped it. Stood, aimed rifle.
Hell shooting from shaking ride. Still, when sights briefly aligned, precise trigger pulls.
‘Hit!’
Running form twisted. Speed dipped slightly.
Jeffrey’s side hosed grenades and rockets. Christmas grudge? Mostly misses.
Closer, outline clear: 「Trickster」. Used terrain max—zigzagged field center, splitting fire.
But fields ended. Burst onto road, head-on with Vehicle 1. Winter grabbed radio.
“Jeffrey! Veer!”
It glowed red, spat heatwave straight. Frontal microwave blast stripped Jeffrey’s Humvee control. Followers piled lightly. Curses on radio—no serious hurts.
Here, new normal variant pack interfered. Focused one side, late notice. Winter raked coax, but stragglers hit road.
Driver yelled.
“Roadkill, bitches!”
Trusted durability, plowed in. Splat! Splat! Splat! Variants bounced like toys. Night vision made spectacle—hot fluids glowed sunset, splattered hood purple.
One mangled variant spun overhead, spraying blood, clawing at Winter—tips grazed, then away.
Rear got curse. Tailed too close, ate blast. Hood variant startled driver into swerves. Guts burst but stuck to glass. Winter spun, emptied twenty into back and skull.
「Lieutenant! What if you hit us?!」
Radio scream from follow-up lead gunner.
‘Bulletproof glass.’
Didn’t miss anyway.
Winter faced forward. Quarry far ahead, toward abandoned ranch. Shadows clustered beyond open pasture.
Coax clicked empty. Slow reload; Winter rifle again. Standing shots from mover—target’s back shredded anyway.
Crunch!
Humvee smashed ranch fence. Impact shook Winter forward—forehead hit gun shield edge.
Damn. Touched wound. Small, but blood to eye blurred vision. Wipe; aim efficiency dipped.
「Trickster」 ducked building. Dead end. Enraged Humvees ringed it.
「We’re demolition crew now! Blast everything!」
Jeffrey’s gung-ho. Winter countered.
“Wait! Capture if possible, right?! Perfect chance!”
「How the hell would I know! It stole my Christmas Eve! In Jesus’ name, I’ll kill it!」
Growl, sigh, hold order. Winter dropped from turret.
“I’ll go in!”
“Hey, at least get cover! You’ll get got!”
Normals crawled from other buildings. While rest cleared, Winter entered for 「Trickster」. Rifle slung, greatsword one hand, pistol other, stepped through shattered door.
Dim hall. Followed night-vision prints.
Whip-crack wind.
Lowered Winter’s head dodged muscle whip. Wall gouged deep. 「Trickster」 stuck like frog tongue, quill shards snagged. Winter stabbed blade repeats, crippled arm.
Then full-body lunge, torso glowing preheat—1-2 seconds.
Rargh! Face-shot barrage. Rolled between legs. Spun to stance, kneecap shots. Heatwave to wall—with whip. Grilling meat smell.
Variant wailed agony.
Kneeling turn—Winter rammed helmet. Ankle ligament shots.
Swap weapons, kick back, hose remaining shoulder. Backpedal, reload. Safe distance—final throes possible.
Quiet.
Neutralized?
Winter sighed steps away, felt off.
Fallen beast stared. No thrash, straight gaze, lips curled smile. Chuckles—laughter, not sobs. Radio static spiked.
Entering soldiers clamored; Winter pondered.
‘Yeah, off from start. Why? Too sloppy. Like it wanted to die...’
No answer. No new threats.
============================ Author’s Note ============================
1. The “human zoo” phrase from last chapter comes from Desmond Morris’s book *The Human Zoo*. Figured some knew it, but the translation’s a mess. Makes sense if not.
2. Y’all forgot, but this novel updates 3-5 times weekly.
For real.