Chapter 131 - A Story of Lost in Translation
Morning came, and the boy finally began to move as the sun rose high into the sky. However, since he didn't know where the attackers had come from, moving required even greater caution. Moreover, now that he knew there were infected present, he couldn't afford to wander around aimlessly. For now, he needed to find a safe place and investigate the identity of the attackers. That was what he had to do.
But the boy was exhausted beyond measure. Somewhere in his heart, he even felt like he just wanted to die right then and there.
He understood well enough that he was a bottomless human being. He had deceived himself by labeling his ugly true feelings as "it can't be helped," driving many people to their deaths. Even now, having realized this, he had used the excuse of "it can't be helped" to feed a defenseless person to the infected out of fear. Out of the fear of being betrayed and the weakness of his own heart that could never trust anyone.
He was sick of everything. No matter which path he chose, the only future waiting for him was one where he continued to kill others. Deceiving himself with excuses for his ugly true feelings, unable to save anyone, and continuing to sacrifice others just so he alone could survive. For a boy who had once admired heroes, such a way of life was utterly unacceptable.
That was exactly why he couldn't accept his current self. The boy was surprised that a conscience still remained within him, but it was that very conscience that was tormenting him now.
To keep living, he had no choice but to discard being human. He had to throw away his conscience and human dignity, living a life where he suppressed everything with power, or he wouldn't survive. He had to make his own survival the absolute priority, treating all others as tools to be used or beings that couldn't be trusted, or he wouldn't last.
The boy had thought that way before, and he had actually lived that way. But the result was only a few months of life, and what remained was a sense of emptiness and helplessness far greater than before. If he stopped being human just to survive, wouldn't he be the same as the infected, who lost their reason and lived only according to appetite and aggressive instincts?
In the end, he never understood what kind of life he should lead. If someone had pointed the way, would he have been able to live without regrets?
Perhaps because it was close to Tokyo, the roads all over the seaside town were blockaded. To prevent the intrusion of passenger cars, thick stakes had been driven into the roads at intervals of several dozen centimeters, and concrete blocks were piled up. Additionally, trucks with flat tires parked to block the road obstructed the boy's path.
It was while he was circling the city looking for a road toward Tokyo that a strange noise began to come from the wagon's engine. Suddenly, the speed wouldn't increase even when he stepped on the accelerator, and the engine began to vibrate abnormally, making a coughing sound. The numbers on the tachometer dropped before his eyes until it finally stopped completely.
The reason was immediately apparent. In the gap of the wagon's front grille, there was a bullet hole so small it wasn't obvious at first glance. It seemed a bullet had flown in through there and lodged in the engine, gradually causing it to malfunction.
"Are you serious..."
The boy clicked his tongue and tried turning the ignition key again. However, the engine seemed completely broken; it wouldn't make a sound. Since the battery was charged, electric driving was possible, but once the battery ran out, that would be the end of it.
The boy had no knowledge or skill in automobile maintenance. At most, he could check the engine oil level or open the hood to give the engine a quick look. He couldn't repair an engine broken by a gunshot, and he wouldn't be able to replace an engine by himself.
He had valued this hybrid wagon because it could drive quietly on electricity and carry a large amount of supplies, but it seemed this was the end for it. In this situation, finding a replacement car would be a struggle. While cars themselves were scattered everywhere to the point their tires were rotting, not many met his requirements.
Since he didn't know when he would find more supplies, he wanted to move with as many supplies as possible. In addition to that, he needed stealth so as not to attract the attention of the infected. Furthermore, since unmaintained roads were in ruins, off-road capability was also required.
Cars that satisfied all these were not easy to find. The boy spread a map over the steering wheel and looked for car dealers. There was a place not too far away where several dealerships were clustered together. He thought he might find the car he was looking for there. With that in mind, he turned the wheel. He didn't feel like riding in just any car that had been left abandoned for nearly a year.
In the city, an elevated highway ran north to south toward Tokyo, but the ramps leading to the entrance were blocked by cars that had seemingly swarmed there. It seemed he could reach Tokyo quickly along the highway if he abandoned the car, but considering what lay ahead, he didn't feel like leaving behind his large amount of supplies, weapons, and ammunition.
Just as the battery level reached its limit, he finally found the target car dealership. Perhaps thanks to the era where every family had a car, from a distance, there were no signs of it being ransacked. People must have fled the city in their own cars.
That said, he had no choice but to exclude the cars parked in the lot, even if they were new. He was worried whether a car left outdoors for nearly a year, exposed to wind and rain, would move satisfactorily, and above all, being near the sea, rust might have set in. He had to aim for the vehicles displayed indoors.
If only he could do maintenance himself, he could have found a car that met his criteria among those abandoned everywhere and taken it. The boy understood the importance of acquiring skills deep in his bones. Most people in the world believed white-collar jobs were superior and tried to avoid becoming blue-collar workers, but in a crisis like this, how much skill one possessed became vital.
The battery level was already approaching zero, and the boy pulled the sluggishly moving wagon over to the shoulder. From the back seat, he took a backpack containing car magazines and the Type 89 Rifle he had taken from the man he fought last night, then stepped out of the car.
The Type 89 Rifle wasn't as long as the M1 Rifle and was more powerful than the MP5 submachine gun. He had only found three magazines' worth of spare ammunition on the man's corpse, but 5.56mm rounds he had previously obtained from an infected JSDF member were still loaded in the car's safe. He had left them alone until now because he couldn't find the actual gun, but they would finally be useful.
The problem was that he hadn't fired a single shot. He disassembled it lightly just in case, but the men seemingly didn't have much knowledge of firearms, as there were almost no signs of maintenance. The internal mechanism was terribly dirty, and a large amount of soot was attached to the barrel. He finished the maintenance, but even so, he wanted to avoid situations where he'd be firing wildly. Since the car wouldn't move, he didn't want to be found by the infected until he found a replacement.
Anticipating the possibility of a car breakdown, the boy had narrowed down several models in advance using the magazines as a reference. Four car dealerships were lined up right next to the elevated highway, and the boy stepped into the dealer with the red diamond logo. Since its domestic sales were on the lower end among passenger car manufacturers, the parking lot was smaller and there were fewer cars handled compared to other dealers. However, from the boy's perspective, it was a blessing because he could find the car he wanted immediately.
Two of the target plug-in hybrid SUVs were lined up in the parking lot, but if possible, he wanted to use a car displayed indoors. It was a car that had been exposed to wind and rain for nearly a year without moving. He wanted to avoid a situation where it would malfunction as soon as he started driving.
There were no signs of the dealership being ransacked, and the several passenger cars visible through the showroom window remained clean. Forcing open the automatic doors that remained closed due to the power being out, the boy entered the store.
Only his own footsteps echoed through the silent store. Perhaps the employees had fled in a panic from the infected during closing procedures, as documents were scattered behind the counter. Further back in the office, several car keys were lined up hanging on the wall. Numbers were written on the keychains, but he didn't know which key corresponded to which car. The boy took all the keys hanging on the wall hooks and returned to the showroom.
The target SUV was displayed grandly right in the center of the showroom. It was an SUV equipped with both a gasoline engine and a motor, utilizing a plug-in hybrid system that could also be charged externally. While its interior volume was inferior to a wagon, the cabin space was still large compared to other companies' hybrid cars. Furthermore, being a four-wheel drive, it was the ideal model for driving on ruined roads.
The key he took from the office finally turned on the fifth try. He tried to start the engine for now, but perhaps because the battery was dead, it wouldn't make a sound. However, since he had anticipated this, he replaced the car battery fluid with the new one he had brought from the wagon.
While waiting for the battery to charge, he toured the store to see if there was anything else useful. He pried open the vending machine in the store to restock on drinks and remembered that his food supplies were running low. Since there were signs of a planned blockade, the people of this town must have evacuated or died much later. In the meantime, shops must have been looted, and indeed, the convenience stores and supermarkets he saw along the way were ransacked.
However, he had confirmed beforehand on the map that there was a reclaimed land area nearby where factories for food companies, such as canned goods, were clustered. In this town facing the sea, coastal redevelopment was progressing; the northern reclaimed land area had shopping malls, movie theaters, and tower mansions, while the southern part had factories built and operating. Among the food factories were those of companies manufacturing canned goods and preserved foods. Those products that hadn't been shipped yet might still remain in the factories.
He siphoned out the old gasoline remaining in the SUV with a hose and discarded it, replenishing it with gasoline from the jerry can he brought from the wagon instead. After that, when he turned the ignition key, the engine started on the first try. Confirming for now that the car moved, he opened the vehicle entry door and drove the SUV straight outside.
"That's..."
Just as he was about to pull the SUV up to the stalled wagon, a truck that had crashed into a pillar under the elevated highway caught his eye. The logo of a nationwide convenience store was painted on the container of the cargo bed.
Perhaps products that were supposed to be delivered were loaded in the cargo bed. Perishable foods would have rotted long ago, but if it was preserved foods or snacks, some might not have reached their expiration date yet. It's worth checking out, the boy thought.
However, he prioritized transferring the supplies first. He didn't know when the infected or rioters might attack. He needed to quickly load at least the supplies from the wagon into the SUV so he could flee immediately if attacked.
Perhaps because he always packed his luggage in preparation for emergencies, or because the consumption of food and such was intense, the transfer of luggage finished surprisingly quickly. What took time to carry were the guns and ammunition. Because he had obtained them from corpses or taken them from enemies he fought, the number of guns he had collected had risen to quite a lot. Most of them, however, were hunting rifles.
After transferring all the supplies to the SUV, the boy finally headed to investigate the truck. How many products remained in the truck that had crashed into the highway pillar, its driver's seat crushed? The container door was left half-open; perhaps someone had taken food before. He would check, but he felt it was better not to expect too much.
Perhaps concrete corrosion was progressing, as puddles had formed here and there under the elevated highway. Because of the highway running overhead, sunlight didn't reach, and the water didn't seem to evaporate easily. Carrying the Type 89 Rifle, the boy walked toward the truck on the dim road under the highway.
Among the passenger cars left abandoned to block the road, he could hardly find any corpses. People must have judged that the highway was blockaded and escaping by car would be difficult. There were some cars with skeletal remains inside, but those were all accident vehicles. Had most of the people in this town fled before being attacked by the infected?
Puddles had also formed around the delivery truck that crashed into the pillar. Several plastic cases had spilled out from the half-open container, scattering their contents on the ground. Plastic lunch containers were scattered on the road surface, but they were naturally empty, having been eaten by crows or completely rotted away.
The inside of the container was shrouded in darkness, making it impossible to see the situation from the outside. Just as the boy took a step into a puddle to check the contents, he heard a snapping sound like something popping.
In the next instant, the world was reflected in the boy's eyes upside down. Simultaneously, an impact ran through the back of his head, and his vision momentarily blacked out.
The elevated highway that had covered the boy's head until a moment ago was now visible at his feet. And catching sight of a long, thin rope descending—no, extending—from his ankle toward the highway, the boy finally realized he was hanging in mid-air in an upside-down state.
It seemed he had fallen into a trap. It was likely the type of trap where a looped rope catches and hoists the prey the moment they step into a puddle. He tried to think about who had set it and for what purpose, but by then, the boy's consciousness was already fading.
The blood in his entire body was rushing toward his head. In addition, blood was flowing from the back of his head, which he had hit hard when he fell after the rope caught his leg.
He didn't even have time to curse his own carelessness for failing to check. With the impact of hitting his head and the blood rushing to his brain, the boy's consciousness was rapidly swallowed into darkness.
[Author's Note]
I'm waiting for your opinions and impressions.