Chapter 84
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 84
Chapter Title: Night by the Lake (3)
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The force heading to Salinas Dam was set at a total of 35 men, excluding Winter: twenty-seven from Charlie Company’s 1st Platoon, one medic, three engineers, and four tank crew members. The vehicle composition consisted of nine Humvees and one tank. The excess vehicles compared to personnel were a courtesy from the fortress command to Winter. Fewer troops meant they needed stronger firepower. The tank fell into the same category.
Winter had persistently declined the tank, but it was practically forced upon him. The regimental combat team commander had said this:
“I want to minimize the chance of losing you.”
To the boy, it seemed more like a calculation driven by necessity than personal fondness. In this world now, if Winter died, at least 100 million people would be devastated. There were hardly any Americans who didn’t know of him anymore.
Winter sat in the gunner’s seat of the lead Humvee for vigilance. The environment was too harsh to entrust it to someone else. Record-breaking rains and mist drastically reduced visibility. The naked eye could barely see 100 meters ahead. Winter, bolstered by Personal Firearms Proficiency for visual acuity correction and Combat Sense and Survival Instinct for intuition boosts, had it somewhat better.
The road south was frequently interrupted. Bombing scars had turned into puddles, and softened ground had collapsed in many places. In spots, muddy torrents rushed by.
Spotting the torrent, Winter raised his hand. A halt signal. The gunner in the following vehicle relayed it backward. The convoy stopped in sequence. The spacing was tight, but since they weren’t going fast to begin with, there was no risk of collision.
One person from each vehicle approached the lead. To maintain radio silence. Winter, who had jumped down from the roof, pointed toward the torrent.
“Doesn’t that look dangerous?”
The road had collapsed about 20 meters ahead, with a waterway running through the gap. Several streams converged there. The clashing flows made the surface choppy and turbulent. Even with the wind and rain roaring in his ears, the sound of the water was crystal clear.
Platoon leader Jeffrey nodded in agreement.
“Yeah. Depth isn’t the issue, but I’m worried the current might sweep the vehicles away.”
As Jeffrey said, depth wasn’t a problem. Judging by the roadside trees still standing against the current, he could roughly gauge it: about one meter. Each vehicle had a chimney-like snorkel, allowing them to cross even if water reached the roof. The tank lacked a snorkel but could handle up to 1.2 meters without special gear.
The current was another matter. Winter stepped closer and dipped his outstretched hand in, testing the pushing force.
‘Tricky.’
Combining passengers, gear, ammo, and other cargo, a Humvee’s weight fell just short of three tons. High chance of being swept away. Better to lead with the tank here. The U.S. M1A2 weighed over 60 tons. It would hold steady.
Winter said,
“Put the tank in front and connect the vehicles with winch cables to cross?”
“That’s exactly what I was about to suggest.”
Jeffrey grinned. He couldn’t speak as casually as before. The boy officer was now his superior. Still, his attitude hadn’t changed much compared to the formal address. It suited Winter fine. Far better than some soldiers who froze up like they were facing a general every time.
Watching the tank roll forward with its turbine roar, Winter thought,
‘At least bringing it along paid off.’
The tank’s rear had a hook for exactly this. Humvees too. Winter extended the Humvee’s winch cable long and hooked it to the tank’s rear. He climbed back into the gunner’s seat and waited briefly. The signal that binding was complete all the way to the last vehicle came back through several men. Finally, Winter signaled the tank commander: proceed. He could see the commander speaking over the intercom.
The convoy began to creep forward. With eleven vehicles linked, speed differences could be disastrous.
The massive tank entered the water at an angle. Rather than yielding its side to the current, it pushed diagonally against it. Then Winter’s vehicle followed. A rough, perilous vibration enveloped the chassis. It drifted slightly sideways, then jolted as if caught. Evidence of the tension pulling from front and back.
Bubbles boiled up. Countless droplets leaped toward Winter. Dirt flecks lingered where he wiped, but not for long. The pounding rain washed them away.
‘Can he see ahead?’
Winter wondered about the driver’s view. Peeking below the turret, he saw the splashing torrent covering half the windshield. The driver, gripping the wheel, couldn’t sit fully—half-standing, he strained to peer forward. Winter shouted over the noise.
“No need to drive by sight! Just hold direction and speed! I’ll tell you if it shifts!”
“Ah, yes. Got it.”
Even seated, the driver remained on edge. He’d trained crossing rivers in vehicles plenty of times, but combat was always different from drills.
Still, they crossed quickly. Trailing vehicles emerged from the torrent one by one. The rear ones were more unstable, lacking pull from behind. From halfway across, they were swept along. The vehicles that reached shore kept towing steadily, accounting for it.
Finally, the last vehicle clawed onto dry land. It strained rewinding the winch, but they crossed without incident. Gunners from each vehicle waved and cheered. Noise was a concern, but Winter let it slide. The destination was still far. Even if something heard and pursued, all it’d see were tracks.
Vehicles disconnected and resumed rolling. Mud pits everywhere, but speed barely dropped. Engineer wisdom. Before departure, one suggested mounting snow gear on the Humvees. Officially for snow, but great for mud too. Winter approved. They removed wheels and fitted triangular Mattracks. Wider ground contact dispersed weight, reducing sinking into mud.
Variant encounters were rare. If any, just ignore and pass.
‘Average speed around 20 kph, maybe…’
Under the darkening sky, Winter unfolded a map without lights. Navigating the winding path was the commander’s role. Map Reading investment was unavoidable. A bittersweet skill for Winter: helpful when present, not sorely missed when absent.
‘Still, beats getting lost.’
Plenty of accumulated experience resources made this waste tolerable. Distant terrain hard to spot, path twisting often—no better skill needed now.
The convoy soon entered a familiar road: to Black Mountain’s lumber yard. An abandoned village appeared ahead. Creston. Just three blocks wide and long. Winter decided on a straight push. He signaled; trailing vehicles seemed startled. They’d expected a bypass.
Radios stayed silent. Radio silence order held.
Instead, an officer in the turret seat asked,
“We’re really going through the village? What if enemies are ambushing?”
Winter replied,
“Variants might be there, but no ambush. How would they know we’re coming?”
A few might pop out, Winter figured.
Humvee and tank rumble washed away by wind and thunder. Visibility shrunk for variants too. As predicted, the first variant spotted them only after the lead vehicle entered the village. It burst from the first house at the entrance, mouth agape.
“Kyaa— [Thud!]”
A summoning cry cut short by a low, dull gunshot. The round shattered teeth. Before it crumpled, staggering, the boy officer’s lead vehicle sped past.
“Speed up.”
He ordered the driver and signaled. Convoy accelerated. Rising noise. Variants leaping from spots around the village were negligible. Winter shot a few at random, ignored the rest. Trailing gunners handled remnants with their skills. Not boyishly clean: a few three-round bursts, then mag dumps if needed.
A few variants pursuing to the end got swept into shallow torrent. Vehicles could crush through by weight, but variants no heavier than humans fared worse. Even centimeters-deep current could kill. They flopped like ankles grabbed, thrashed, and washed away.
Troops starved for laughs doubled over.
Night fully descended at Black Mountain’s entrance. Starless sky, pitch black—8 km of mountain road ahead. Winter deemed it the tensest stretch.
California State Route 229, piercing the mountains north-south, was a narrow single lane. Wide Humvees and wider tank required caution. No lights worsened it. Humvee drivers relied wholly on night vision’s narrow FOV. Tank had IR surveillance standard, but barely better.
No enemies? The environment was the foe. Black woods flanking was fine, but cliffs and slopes brought constant tension. Even Winter, with leeway, stayed alert—drivers worse.
Mudslides from heights obscured the road. Filled with dirt, no longer flat; original dips pooled water, looking flat. One mistake could ditch them.
Speed slowed to a crawl. Odometer barely past two or three. Drivers halted often to gauge path, then advanced. Rockfalls too.
Wrong path? Winter halted the whole convoy. Signaled no need to dismount, climbed down from turret, tapped driver’s shoulder.
“I’ll get out and guide. Follow exactly.”
The driver paled at Winter’s order.
“What? Too dangerous! Didn’t you see those variants? Swept away here, no body recovery! Could step in a pothole too!”
“Don’t worry. I’ll hook winch to my belt. Pull if risky.”
Humvee winch handled 6,000 pounds (2.7 tons). Winter was nothing. But driver and another shook heads.
“Damn, what about rockfalls? I’ll try harder—stay inside.”
“Listen to him, Lieutenant. This speed won’t delay the mission. Dam won’t collapse in an hour or two. Even if it does, no choice. Losing the dam vs. you? Latter’s worse loss.”
Persuasion tough. Time mattered. Winter shook head.
“This is a commander’s order. No arguments.”
Orders absolute. No further protest.
An officer grimaced purely from worry for the boy officer. Appreciating it, Winter exited wordlessly. Splash. Rattle. Shallow current split at boot heels. Water halfway to ankles. Soft sideways push—not dangerous.
Winter yanked the winch. Extended plenty, hooked end to his belt. Tug, tug. Checked taut bind. Not for himself.
Two Humvee soldiers watched. Night vision hid eyes, but unblinking likely.
Boy smiled with mouth, waved. Driver headbutted wheel; replacement gunner stared at cloudy sky. Shoulders slumped.
Not reckless. Genius-level Survival Instinct plus rank-10 Crisis Detection slashed accidental death odds here.
‘Not zero, though.’
Some risk necessary. Good tension for otherworld viewers too. Winter stepped into water, began slow trot.
============================ Author's Notes ============================
#KakaoTalk with Friend and Author
Friend: Ah
Friend: I want some really tasty food.
Friend: Meaty stuff that gives energy too.
Author: Really tasty meat
Author: Dog meat.
Friend: This guy's a novelist...
#Q&A
Q. NeoGGM: @First comment. Congrats on your period. No gift. Kidding, sending support coupons. Thought about Rice Breaker but too lazy, so here. (This comment has many typos.)
A. Rice Breaker... trembling...
Q. Ureongswaegul: Wow, same birthday as me... Amazing. Happy birthday! Eat something tasty and cheer up :) Birthdays mean tasty food. Personally, think it's fitting right before Liberation Day. Holiday!!
A. Ended up ordering pizza alone. Liked Vins Jamsil for not being salty, but seems saltier now... Why do outside foods get saltier? Say it's to sell more drinks/booze, but overkill.
Q. Era of the Phoenix: Happy birthday. 100,000 years ago.... How do you all live so long? Doesn't innocence spoil if too old? Write fast and recharge with new. lol Red Riding Hood made sweet potato pizza first. Then suddenly at Pizza Hut and all pizzerias. No food patents? Red Riding Hood didn't make it...
A. Innocence has no expiration. Necronomicon-like fairy tales give ancient innocence—same vein. / Meant to order Red Riding Hood, but thought old reliable Vins... stepped on a mine.
Q. Cheongryeon: @Happy birthday! Family forgot mine once; only Pizza Bang computer congratulated. ㅠㅜ
A. Ungrateful—my computer didn't wish me happy birthday. Probably 'cause it's 40,000-year-old junk.
Q. 3ppoo: @Vladimir... Putin!!!
A. Not only Putin is Vladimir. :)
Q. DohwaWon: @Happy birthday. Paper books have that romance. Maybe more readers on Joara and beyond!
A. Dunno... Light novels: 2nd printings rare. Initial 3k now 1.5k. Times changed. If not, full-time writing dreamless. Haha.
Q. Chic Kitty: @Congrats love you
A. Will strive for lovable novels ahead. Thanks.
Q. Breaking Thunder: @Love Dead Space 3 giant necromorphs in Le Suu Ji—cool.
A. Too surreal. Why Biohazard got boring?
Q. White Mountain Hermit: @!! Happy birthday but how do Outer Gods celebrate? ^^
A. Read accumulated winds and star herds.
Q. Master Calsolum: @Over 40k birthday, 4 coupons. Add per 10k years.
A. Why not 40k? Then I could buy 50k+ hanwoo set, dried persimmon set, cosmetics set, Korean hospitality and bribes.
Joking—thanks. Readers better than friends.
Q. Toothbrush with Meals: @Author, question on your game system. Base: NPCs respond to user's subconscious desires...? Mentioned before. Hypothetical: VR game feels real, A loves NPC partner deeply. 1. Immersed A. 2. They love, promised marriage. 3. Wife kidnapped by psycho. 4. Psycho wants A's despair—no persuasion works. 5. Confrontation, psycho holds gun to partner's head, chats to see despair before killing per plan. Question: Desperate, A's mind screams 'spare her'. Does psycho not kill, ignoring game progression? Happy birthday. Weird Q, but washing dishes at work, only thought. Long, will it post?
A. Misunderstanding. Not responding to subconscious expectations, but reading subconscious predictions. 'Opponent will act thus' prediction vs. 'Wish opponent acts thus' expectation—different.
Also conscious wishes vs. subconscious predictions. Subconscious acts independently of conscious—uncontrollable reflex.
2nd/3rd modules interfere, diversifying responses.
Q. RGZ95: @Variants learn from survivors, so possible... Creepy.
A. Creepy? Good—author writing creepy novel.