Chapter 123 - Chapter 106: A Story of Reuniting
For the following week, the boy was tormented by intense pain and high fever. He intended to have handled the treatment of the abdominal wound well, but even so, it was nothing more than an amateur's first aid. No matter what book he read, there were no treatment methods listed for being shot in the abdomen under isolated circumstances without sufficient medical tools.
It was natural. The moment one is shot in the stomach, death awaits unless proper treatment is provided. Modern first aid and emergency medicine are established on the premise that there are doctors with proper facilities, technology, and knowledge. They do not envision a person treating and healing a wound alone in a situation with no doctors, no hospitals, and no help from anyone.
Therefore, the boy had no choice but to manage somehow on his own. Even if he groaned in intense pain, there was no one to help him.
While delirious with high fever and writhing in the pain of the gunshot wound, he had to at least eat to recover his strength. He wasn't in the mood for meals, but if he had lost a massive amount of blood and was heavily injured, whether he could survive from now on depended on his own recovery power.
That said, he had no appetite, and even his digestive capacity was weakened. At first, he even vomited up the freeze-dried porridge, but he had no choice but to eat even by force. If he didn't eat, his physical strength would be lost even further, and even wounds that could heal wouldn't. He consumed precious canned liver and supplements without stint, solely aiming for the recovery of his strength.
Even so, the pain did not subside, and while his consciousness remained hazy and he felt only pain, the boy spent his days groaning on the bed. He had even lost track of how many days had passed since he was shot. He only knew that the fact he wasn't dead meant his first aid had succeeded to some extent, and that fortunately, his internal organs were likely undamaged.
Perhaps due to the high fever, he was always tormented by nightmares while sleeping. The moment he woke up, he would forget the contents of the dream, but the fact that he couldn't wake up with a good feeling meant it was certain they weren't good dreams.
Whether it was because he had lost too much blood or because the effects of inhaling the narcotics still remained, he even felt like he was still in a dream even when awake. He felt as if everything might be a dream. When he next opened his eyes, he would be inside the warm futon of his room at home, and when he got up, his mother would be making breakfast and his father would be reading the newspaper. Amidst his hazy consciousness, the boy thought of such things.
By the time at least three weeks had passed since he was shot, the boy was finally able to move to some extent. The wound in his stomach had healed considerably, and though it looked ugly, it also appeared to have closed. The parts he had burned himself remained as keloid-like scars, but he had to say it was better than not dying. Peeling off the plastic wrap that covered the wound, the boy was relieved that there was no sign of the scar opening even when he shifted his body.
He hadn't accurately counted how many weeks had passed since he was shot, but from the fact that he hadn't died during that time, it was certain that the bullet had not damaged his internal organs. Was his luck strong, or was he unlucky in the sense that he had to suffer in pain for a long time? Either way, it was certain that he had survived.
However, his physical strength had not fully recovered. Just trying to stand up made him dizzy, and he could only stand by placing his hand against the wall. His hair, which he had hardly washed, was shaggy, and his cheeks were sunken. In this state, he couldn't possibly run around like before. If he were chased by the infected now, he would surely be caught.
Because he had been driving on random roads to distance himself even slightly from the infected, the boy had lost track of his exact current location. Perhaps the surroundings were full of infected. Thinking that, he hesitated whether he should move immediately. But whether escaping or staying, he had to do it after recovering his strength.
"Uwaa..."
When he opened the window curtains to check the outside situation for the time being, snow was dancing under a gray sky. Perhaps not much time had passed since it started falling, as soil was still visible in part of the garden seen from the room's window. However, in a few more hours, a silver world would likely spread across the entire area.
Even though he was indoors, his breath was white. His state was already far from healthy, and with the temperature this low, even the slight physical strength he had left would be drained. He had to make the room warm and dress thickly. Remembering that the shichirin for heating and the thick clothes were still loaded in the car, the boy headed toward the entrance with his staggering body to go get them. And the moment he placed his hand on the doorknob, the dull metallic sound of the metal door being struck three times from the outside echoed through the silent room.
"——!?"
Regardless of the boy whose body froze in shock and confusion, the door was struck three times from the outside again. There was no way an infected would politely knock on a door to enter a room. In other words, there was no mistake that the one knocking on this door from the outside now was a survivor other than himself. Furthermore, they were knocking on the door convinced that someone was inside the room.
Who is it? Did the JSDF members he fought in the city chase him? Or are they survivors who were originally surviving in this town? Do they know I'm in this room? If so, why? Was he witnessed escaping into this house? If so, why did they leave him alone until today——?
Various thoughts floated in his head, but escaping was the top priority now. However, his staggering body would not move as he wanted. He tried to leave the entrance, go out the window, and get to the road from the garden, but with his weakened body, he couldn't even climb over the cinder block wall. To make matters worse, when he placed his hands on the top of the wall and tried to lift his body, intense pain immediately shot through his abdomen. Judging that the wound would open again if he overexerted himself, the boy gave up and tried to find another escape route.
However, as far as he could see, there seemed to be no other route leading outside. The garden of the private house connected to the gate by passing the side of the building, but the gate leading outside was directly behind the house's entrance. In other words, he would inevitably have to pass by whoever had knocked on the door.
"And I'm just recovering from an illness..."
He pulled the handgun from the holster he had at least kept on his person, removed the magazine to check the remaining rounds. Then, after lightly pulling the slide to confirm the first round was chambered, the boy forced his staggering body to drag along the side of the building toward the gate in front of the entrance.
Strangely, he didn't feel any sign of whoever knocked on the door taking action. If they were certain the boy was inside the house, they should have broken down the door or come around from the garden to barge in long ago. If there were comrades, if one remained at the entrance and the rest came around from the garden, the boy would be a rat in a bag. He didn't know if they had guns, but even though the opponent was overwhelmingly advantaged, there wasn't even a sign of them attacking yet.
Could it be that the opponent is alone? Even so, he couldn't see the intention of purposely knocking on the door to announce their presence, but right now, only leaving this place dominated the boy's mind. Grasp the enemy's appearance and number, and attack with a preemptive strike. After defeating them, jump into the car and leave this place quickly. The rules had already blown out of his head. If I don't do it, I'll be done in. What dominated the thinking of the boy now, who had even forgotten why he was shot, was simply the obsession that he had to kill everyone other than himself.
Moving along the wall of the building, he poked his face out slightly upon reaching the corner to check the situation near the entrance. A single person was standing in front of the entrance. With hands thrust into the pockets of a thick jumper, that figure standing with an ease as if waiting for a friend did not look like an infected no matter how one saw it.
Perhaps because he still lacked blood, his vision darkened for a moment, and he reflexively knelt. Pressing his head with his left hand, he aimed the handgun held in his right. Extending his slightly trembling right hand, he overlapped the sights on the figure standing in front of the entrance. There was no sign of being noticed. Just as he was about to pull the trigger, he noticed that the figure visible beyond the front sight had blonde hair reaching the shoulders fluttering in the wind.
He felt like he had seen that hair before. When, where——no, who is it? He couldn't remember. Even though he felt they were an important person.
Trying to see better, the boy reflexively took a step forward. The gravel laid on the ground made a sound under the soles of his boots, and the figure in front of the entrance snapped around toward him. Translucent white skin and blue eyes were etched into the boy's eyes. The moment he saw the face of that person who was far from Japanese, the strength drained from the boy's body, and he sat down on the spot.
"No way..."
Such words spilled from his mouth. Seeing the boy slumped on the ground, that person laughed. That smile was also, as expected, familiar.
A woman he had thought was dead all this time. Abandoned so that even one more person could survive, she had vanished into the raging river when the boy let go of her hand. Believing she couldn't possibly be alive, the boy had fled the city without even searching for that woman. Her name was——.
"Naomi-san..."
When he called that name, the woman with blue eyes laughed again. "What's with those eyes? You look like you've seen a ghost," the woman said in a voice that was also, as expected, familiar. Then she began to walk toward the boy.
"You, why are you here...? No, to begin with, how on earth...?"
What came out of the boy's mouth were only questions. He had clearly seen her figure disappear into the muddy stream of the river, which was swollen from the typhoon and had various debris protruding from the riverbed. If one fell into the river in that state, they shouldn't survive in the first place. They would either drown or die from hitting their body against debris. Because he thought so as a matter of fact, the boy hadn't even searched for her after she fell into the river.
"Long time no see. Should I say Happy New Year? Though it's already near the end of January."
He also remembered that frank tone. As expected, she was a person he knew. The boy was convinced of that.
Naomi Walker. A woman born and raised in America. She was caught in the pandemic during her third year of studying abroad in Japan, and unable to return to her hometown, she had been living a survival life alone.
Because she had received training as a militia member, she possessed outstanding combat capabilities. Having grown up in the gun society of America, her knowledge of weapons was also abundant, and the fact that the boy could handle firearms like this now was because Naomi had taught him.
When the boy was acting with other comrades, she had saved him when he was cornered by the infected and in a desperate situation. Thereafter, he also acted together with her, and he was saved by her many times, and saved her as well.
The boy had finally abandoned such a Naomi. To let himself and one other comrade live, he let go of her hand. Since then, he had thought of her as dead, so why now in this place...?
"How are you alive? And there's a considerable distance from that city to here, how did you get here? How did you know I was in this house...? Are you really the Naomi-san I know...?"
She was just laughing as she listened to the questions that jumped out of the boy's mouth like a machine gun.
"Well, it's fine, isn't it, things like that. More importantly, treating you is more important now. Our base is near here, so why don't we go there together?"
"Our...? Is there someone else too?"
"There are, many. From the look of it, you seem to have exhausted quite a bit of physical strength, so I think it's better if you come with me. There's a doctor... ah, an ex-doctor too, so it'll be fine."
He felt like he hadn't been answered regarding any of the essential things, but the boy was completely relieved. As expected, there was no mistake she was the person he knew. If it was people she was with, it would probably be okay.
Completely forgetting that he had almost killed her just a moment ago, the boy started walking, following after Naomi.