Chapter 93
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 93
Chapter Title: Lakeside Night (12), Santa Margarita Lake
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When they returned to the office, a man was dying.
The soldier without legs was gasping for breath.
"Lieutenant... can't you... save me?"
Winter took his hand.
"I'm sorry, Page."
The soldier, Stan Page, was the machine gunner in the heavy weapons squad. Toward the end of the battle, a mortar round had torn off everything below his knees. Shrapnel from several other blasts had embedded itself in him as well. The medic had said there was nothing to be done and prepared a lethal dose of morphine. Winter took it. It was the commander's duty.
Page sobbed.
"It's strange..."
"What is?"
"I thought... if I stuck with you, Lieutenant... I wouldn't die."
"......"
"It's cold... and it hurts."
The soldier lay closest to the fire. Across from him were the pregnant woman and the medic. The pregnant woman sobbed along with the soldier. It wasn't from pain. Lying down, she gazed at him and wept silently. The medic turned her face straight ahead.
Jeffrey asked,
"Hey, Page. Got any last words...?"
"I don't... want to die."
His pale lips trembled. His unfocused eyes were already staring off into the distance.
Winter injected the morphine. One by one, slowly. The soldier's face relaxed. The grip on his hand loosened.
"Mmm... ugh......"
Over several minutes, his breaths grew longer and more even. They slowed, faded, and finally stopped altogether. It was a death that looked like falling asleep.
There was only one body bag left. The second casualty had simply been covered with the raincoat he was wearing. Now they laid the third beside him. His comrades observed a brief moment of silence. They held back their tears. A few civilians murmured prayers as well. Once they returned to base, there would be time for more.
Gunfire still echoed outside the window. Explosions rumbled now and then. But the frequency was dwindling. Very faintly, screams and howls seemed to mix in. It wouldn't last much longer.
Winter pulled the medic aside to a quiet corner.
"White. How's the mother doing?"
"Labor pains started right after the engagement began. She's probably in the early dilation phase now."
"How much longer?"
"Honestly, I don't know."
The medic, who had been expressionless until now, revealed a heavy weariness once they were alone. He started to rub his dry face but hesitated. His hands were clean, washed in boiled water and disinfected separately. He clenched his fist, closed his eyes, sighed, and continued.
"I'm not a doctor. I completed all the training at Sam Houston, but there was no OB-GYN course. Removing bullets and delivering babies are completely different fields......"
Fort Sam Houston was home to the U.S. Army Medical School. Even after finishing the medic training there, it only qualified you as a paramedic. Winter nodded.
"I see. I understand."
"All I know about assisting births is what I picked up from the medical regiment. And yet I have to act like I know everything. Because I'm all they've got."
"......"
"Damn it! I'm terrified I'll ruin everything. Every time they ask what to do now or if it'll be okay, I get dizzy. I'd rather wrestle with the variants."
There was a brief pause. Winter waited silently. Sometimes, all you could do was listen.
White steadied his ragged, choked breathing and spoke again.
"The mother's condition is poor. She's at 38 degrees. I gave her antibiotics despite the risks, but no effect yet. Severe muscle loss from malnutrition. I'm not sure the uterus will contract properly. Who knows what the malnutrition and infection have done to the fetus. High chance of dystocia. Both mother and baby... it's tough. I don't trust myself for an emergency C-section. And she couldn't handle the blood loss anyway."
At that moment, a suppressed groan came from the pregnant woman. She was enduring the pain. Her husband massaged her diligently. How many hours had it been? Every movement lacked strength. Still, he didn't stop. Desperate.
The medic was wrestling with difficult words. The rule was to give up on the hopeless. Just like letting Stan Page die peacefully.
Reading his eyes, Winter eased his burden.
"Do your absolute best as far as you can. Don't worry about the outcome. We can't give up. That's a civilian over there. We're soldiers."
"......Whew, got it. God help us."
"Oh, White."
Winter stopped the medic as he turned to leave.
"The variant horde will approach soon. Even if we lure them elsewhere, there can't be any light here. Can you handle the rest with night vision goggles?"
The medic's face twisted in dismay. But he nodded.
"I'll try. But if we kill the lights now, what about the room temperature?"
"We'll collect the combat ration heater packs and boil water."
Winter immediately instructed the platoon members. They pulled out cabinet drawers, filled them with water, and packed in the heaters. They got about three hundred packs from thirty-one men's three-day combat rations.
Each pack maintained near-boiling for over twenty minutes. Add more water, and it heated up again, not quite as hot but still warm. Divided properly, it would last until morning.
To the soldiers gauging amounts, Winter said,
"Don't skimp now. Once we heat it up, maintaining it shouldn't be hard."
"Understood."
They closed the few river-facing windows left open for smoke. Once the windows fogged with steam, even sharp-eyed enhanced variants would struggle to peer into the darkened building.
Jeffrey approached Winter. He listened outside for a moment, then spoke.
"Captain Harris might already be dead...... Ha, serves him right. What now? Kill the lights and stay quiet until the half-dead ones pass?"
"No. Staying quiet will be tough. We've got the mother here. Even with the noisy river and weather, if one of them has sharp ears, we're in danger. I'm going out to lure them. A clear target in sight means they won't focus on little noises. They'll make plenty of racket themselves."
"Lure them? That's insanely dangerous."
"Not really. Planning to lead them across the river."
"Ah."
The Salinas River upstream was about ten meters wide. Factoring in the fiercer current from the dam gates, it was a width variants wouldn't dare. Depending on enhancement level, some might jump it.
'Even then, just one or two at most.'
He could handle that much. A ghoul would get its head blown off before landing. No real worry. With that in mind, Winter said,
"Tell the outside guards to rig some ropes. I'll cross shortly."
"Ropes...... Easier than before. How many you taking this time?"
"One squad. Jeffrey, get them ready."
"No, that's not the issue, but just one squad again? Variants could show up across the river anytime...... Why not take more? Heard you nearly got buried alive on the way here?"
Winter tilted his head.
"Elliot told you?...... Then you know. It had nothing to do with numbers."
"Just in case."
"Do as I say. It'll be fine. Protecting civilians comes first."
"What if I go instead? They tease me as the do-nothing platoon leader."
"Can't trust you."
"Why pick on me?"
Grumbling at the half-joking seriousness, Jeffrey didn't waste time. He radioed the outer guards with orders, relayed the situation, and stepped out to prep the departure team.
Before leaving, they'd reconfirm the route and rally point if return failed.
Now for the civilians. They didn't know the full situation yet. Just guessing. Spending long hours in the dark, less anxiety was better. Panic attacks would be trouble. This was Winter's role too.
"So, the Lieutenant's doing the luring himself?"
After the explanation, the old man who'd ambushed with the sheriff asked. Winter confirmed.
"Yes. Captain Harris is engaging the variant horde beyond the eastern ridge right now. Sounds like it's nearly over. Truth is, this spot's poor terrain. West blocked by upper Salinas, north by the dam, east by the lake."
"So high chance variants wandering by here. No possibility Harris wins?"
This from the sheriff, Kathleen. Winter nodded again.
"Way too many variants. Harris had no chance. Best case, survivors flee south, but don't count on it. That's why the lure."
Among the group a bit away from the sheriff, a hand went up. A bearded man in baggy clothes.
"So we just wait here?"
"Yes, exactly."
"Not abandoning us?"
"Of course not. Taking minimal personnel. Rest of the troops stay with you. Trust me, please."
The boy made a gentle smile. Even for those at their limit, the famed boy officer's smile had pull. Still, a new voice, unwelcome question.
"With no variants now, why not cross the river and run? Somewhere safer!"
"Ma'am, it's freezing outside. Many here can't move right away."
"We're fine!"
She declared loudly. Her "we" was clear. Some grimaced but stayed silent.
Winter didn't look at the offended. Just asked quietly,
"Lower your voice, please. Stragglers might be near."
"Oh, sorry."
Not a sorry face. Anxiety showed. Unlike polished selfishness.
The sheriff and her old partner showed anger. Kathleen's finger slipped to the trigger guard. Eyes on the boy officer. Unaware of her own action.
'Can't tell them to kill all the uncouth ones.'
How much blame for near-starved cannibals?
To the boy, rarely was guilt fully one person's fault.
Intermittent gunfire outside stopped. 「Combat Sense」 pinpointed the direction, overlaying his 「Memorization」 of the map. Winter estimated time left. Wide margin, but usable.
"No time for long talks. Follow my lead for now. If you don't trust me, hard for me to protect you. Cooperation, please."
"But Lieutenant! Unfair to risk many for one!"
"Any more interferes with the mission. Restrain yourself, ma'am. Puts everyone at risk."
Winter's tone shifted; the woman clamped her mouth shut. Tears welled. She clutched a palm-sized book to her chest and closed her eyes.
"Killing the lights. Variants drawn to light. It'll be dark and long, but stay calm. I'll get you through."
Cold water doused the still-burning firewood. Hiss! Thick steam rose. Charcoal scent filled the air.
Six IR lamps around the mother. Medic White refused more. NVGs strained the eyes. Too bright hindered care.
Staff Sergeant Riverman brought the boy officer a map.
"Discussed route and rally with platoon leader. Thoughts?"
"Hm...... Good. We'll go with it."
No changes needed; Winter accepted. Copied to his map. Swish, scratch, scratch. 「Map Reading」 made it quick. Then Jeffrey approached.
"Elliot's squad took heavy losses, so sending Hernandez's instead. Seven men. Gave them heavy weapons squad's rocket and MG just in case. Won't need 'em here anyway."
"Good. Depending on horde size, might sweep them with terrain. Where are they now?"
"Boat prepped. Just you, Lieutenant."
Before leaving, a few saw the boy off. Jeffrey and Riverman wished luck. Among civilians, the sheriff and old man followed to the door. Two soldiers covered behind them. Winter tried ushering them in.
"Why get soaked on purpose?"
The old man noted bloodstains on Winter's face.
"Lieutenant. Must say this."
"What......?"
"Thanks for your dedication. Sincerely. And...... regrettable you fight at your age."
Words not heard since Silver Star ceremony. That was journalists; this felt first in a way. Winter asked,
"Your name, sir?"
"Chapman, Douglas Chapman."
"Thanks for your support, Mr. Chapman."
Winter shook the old man's hand.
The sheriff saluted instead. Exhausted, yet crisp and forceful. Winter returned it, then told her,
"Don't hate people too much. Or you'll end up hating the whole world. From experience, so listen."
Kathleen looked stunned. Winter smiled.
"Go in."
He nodded to the soldiers.
Door shut, locked. Turning, lightning flashed over black ridge silhouettes, white plague preachers glinting atop.
Winter headed to his waiting soldiers. Dawn deepened now.
============================ Author's Note ============================
#Publishing Update
Lots of questions. Answering all at once here.
-Noblesse serialization stopping? : No. Promised already. Got editor's okay from contract start.
-Any issues? : Some headaches, but unavoidable...
-On platforms like RidibooksX? : Yes. But timed differences.
-Paperbook when? : No schedule set. Will take time.
-So far, how many volumes? : About 4.
-Many revisions? : Planning to revise ch1. Too hard to read for some... Scenes unsuitable for minors too. Otherwise, fix punctuation mismatches, minor expressions.
-Author-signed books or photo postcard events? : Uh, well... Nothing set for paperbook format. And... you want my signature? What spell you casting...
#Innocence and Anger
Past comments hurt a bit. Some readers angry. Online, everyone snaps too easy.
Requests to cut notes, add story? Fair. Want more novel. No need to rage.
Above all, anger means insufficient innocence supply. Innocence-full folks don't snap easy. Always smiling, biding time to utterly destroy. That's innocence.
Folks! Take all my innocence till empty, then where you wasting it?
Author's life force dries again today...