When I finally reached the pharmacy, I had told Saki to stay back, ensuring she was in a safe location while I walked over to the building to assess the situation. With a sense of trepidation, I slipped through the dimly lit back door, its creak echoing ominously in the otherwise silent surroundings. The interior was a messy scene; the floor was littered with overturned shelves and scattered medical supplies. Clear signs of a struggle.
As I ventured deeper into the dimly lit building, my heart raced as I found a chilling trail of blood that led me up the narrow staircase to the second floor. There was a vast difference in facing the undead while trapped indoors than there was when I was outside. One wrong move and an infected could lunge at me from around a corner and bite me. If that happens, then it's game over. After taking a calming breath, I moved up the stairs after clearing the first floor.
The metallic scent of iron filled my nostrils, intensifying my anxiety as I cautiously pushed open the first door to my right. There, amidst the debris of what was a supply closet, I encountered a grotesque sight: an infected woman, seemingly in her early to mid-thirties, was hunched over the mangled remains of an elderly man, who had been clad in a white doctor's coat.
The undead turned to face me, her vacant gaze locking onto mine. She was a terrifying figure—deformed and missing her entire left arm and right eye, yet still exhibiting a menacing predatory instinct. With little hesitation, I raised my weapon, delivering a series of brutal strikes to her head until she collapsed, lifeless once more.
As I was closing the door, a low, anguished moan caught my attention. I turned to see the elderly pharmacist, now transformed into one of the undead. I tightened my grip on my bat. With a swift motion, I put him down. I stood motionless for a moment, taking in the sprawled out corpses covered in blood. Closing the door, I continued on.
After confirming that there were no other occupants or lurking undead on the second floor, I backtracked and searched every corner again to ensure the building was truly empty. As a precaution, I locked all the main entrances, the sound of metal clanging against metal providing a brief sense of security. I then turned off the lights, plunging the space into darkness. Luckily, the moonlight above illuminated the interior just enough that I could move around. Even though the infected were essentially blind, I didn't want to take any chances, leaving the lights on. I knew better than to test my luck.
"Okay, it's clear," I said to myself, placing my bloody bat against the wall but still close enough for me to grab at a moment's notice. Turning down to my hands, I saw small, red welts under my fingers. Callouses. Callouses built from bashing in the heads of several infected.
Enough staring. I can't leave Saki and Keika out there for too long.
Carefully, I opened the front door to the pharmacy and quickly spotted Saki and Keika, hiding between a van and an overturned bus. I raised my thumbs up, a silent signal between us. She caught the signal, offering a small nod, and quickly scanned the area to ensure no infected were in the area. With a tense expression, she moved quickly through the crowded streets full of abandoned vehicles, Keika trailing closely behind.
Once they both stepped inside the pharmacy, I gently eased the door closed behind them, the soft click of the latch echoing in the quiet space. To add an extra layer of security, I picked up the sturdy chair I had brought along and carefully wedged it under the doorknob. The wood creaked slightly as I positioned it. Once I was sure the front door was secure, I picked up my bat.
"Sachan, my feet hurt," Keika whimpered, her voice trembling as she looked up at Saki. Her nose and cheeks were flushed with a bright, rosy hue from being out in the cold all day. I wouldn't be surprised if she ended up catching a cold.
"Let's take these shoes off you then," Saki replied soothingly. With gentle hands, she lifted Keika, cradling her against her side before carefully placing her on one of the waiting room's chairs in the corner of the room to remove her shoes.
I watched them with a mixture of affection and worry. Worry for my own sister. Turning away from them, I looked around the pharmacy.
The pharmacy we had stumbled into was small and quaint, its shelves lined with an array of colorful medicine bottles and neatly stacked boxes of supplies. It was one of those family-owned businesses, the kind that felt cozy despite its limited space. The faint smell of antiseptic mingled with the earthy scent of herbs, grounding us as we prepared to hunker down for the night.
Despite its size, the little pharmacy was a treasure trove of relief, stocked with various medicines that would help us stock up on supplies. There was even a shelf stocked with drinks, snacks, and cup ramen for any hungry shoppers.
"Kawasaki... avoid the first room on the right on the second floor," I said slowly. Saki looked at me and then at my bloody weapon; she nodded in understanding. Walking over to the shelf with all the food, I grabbed a few items.
"Here you go, Keika. I bet you're hungry," I said with a warm, brotherly smile as I handed her a wrapped melon bun.
"Ah! Thank you, Hacchan!" Keika smiled and began to eat the bun. I smiled and took a bottle of water from the small fridge, placing it next to her. She thanked me with a bright but tired smile.
I glanced over at Saki, who was removing her thick jacket. She turned to me and gave me a weary smile in return. I offered her a water bottle and some bread.
"Thanks," she replied.
I nodded, and we started eating.
"Any idea how much longer it'll take?" Saki asked after gulping down several sips of water. She settled down beside Keika, her shoes no longer on her feet.
"At this rate, we should arrive around six tomorrow evening," I said, taking off my jacket and sitting down. I felt a wave of exhaustion hit me immediately. "At least, that's what I remember. With the internet down and my phone battery dead, I'm relying on my memory from here on out."
"I see. That's good," Saki said, looking relieved.
Once we had satisfied our hunger and quenched our thirst, Saki and I wandered through the pharmacy, carefully selecting an assortment of common medicines and over-the-counter pills to bolster our meager supplies. I found myself packing away several types of painkillers and cold medications. As I leaned to the right, I noticed a stack of familiar fliers tucked away in a corner, their edges slightly frayed. I picked one of the fliers up and began to read its familiar contents.
"Ah, isn't that one of those flyers for the vaccine we all took?" Saki remarked, leaning in to peer over my shoulder. "I still remember waiting for an hour to get my shot. Mandatory, my ass."
"Yeah... still, it helped solve the bad case of the flu that was going around. But…" I said, recalling the shot I received all those months ago.
The flyer outlined an unexpected mandate issued months earlier, requiring every Japanese citizen to receive a vaccine designed to combat a new, rapidly spreading, and deadly strain of the flu virus. Initially, it was framed as a necessary precaution—a straightforward yet vital measure to protect the population's health. However, what was meant to be a harmless vaccination left a bitter taste in my mouth, as I was one of the rare individuals who experienced an adverse reaction.
I vividly recalled the days that followed my injection. A high fever had gripped me, leaving me bedridden and shivering under the covers, my body rebelling against the very thing that was supposed to protect me.
Fortunately, after about a week, I emerged from that disorienting experience, my health seemingly restored, and my ability to move around returned. However, it seems that I hadn't made a complete recovery as I thought.
Even to this day, I can still feel my lungs sting when I breathe in cold air. I also experience random sharp pains in my chest. My family physician calls it "aftereffects"—the lingering issues that should have resolved but still plague me.
Looking down at the painkillers in my hands, I wondered whether or not to take one. The pains in my chest were growing more frequent.
Yet I couldn't shake the confusion about my reaction to the vaccine. I often found myself dismissing the incident as mere bad luck, though a small part of me couldn't help but wonder if there was something more to it.
"Did you… have any reaction to it? To the vaccine, I mean," I asked as I threw the flier back onto the stack. Saki shook her head no and went back to looking through the medicine.
"Not really. You?" Saki said.
"...no. Me either," I lied.
We continued to search through the dimly lit pharmacy, the air thick with dust and a faint antiseptic smell. By the time we wrapped up our exploration, we had filled the large duffel bag we discovered in one of the upstairs rooms to the brim with an assortment of medicine and first aid supplies—bandages, antiseptics, various over-the-counter medications, and even a few prescriptions we deemed useful.
After gathering our spoils, the three of us made our way upstairs, the creaking floorboards echoing underfoot. We entered the pharmacist's former bedroom, and I took the lead once again. To make the unfamiliar space feel a bit less intrusive, I carefully turned over all the family photos arranged on the dresser. The faces of strangers, now hidden, ease the discomfort of sleeping in a room that once belonged to someone else.
I then closed the door behind us, taking extra precaution to secure it by propping a sturdy chair under the doorknob. With the door firmly sealed, I turned my attention to Saki. She was gently preparing her younger sister for bed, her movements calm and composed amid the uncertainty of our situation. The room featured a small bathroom adjoining it, allowing us to brush our teeth and wash up before settling in for the night.
"She never goes to sleep this easily," Saki whispered from beside me as we watched Keika sleeping. "Usually, I have to tell her a story or convince her to count sheep."
"She must be exhausted. We've been moving nonstop all day. Not to mention having to deal with the infected. Keika did well. You should be proud of her," I said, and looked at my now clean, but shaky, calloused hands. "Frankly, I feel like I'm about to pass out any second."
Saki nodded and rubbed her tired eyes. "We should get some sleep then... Goodnight, Hikigaya."
"Goodnight, Kawasaki," I murmured, watching as she nestled down beside her sister on the futon, their bodies forming a cozy silhouette against the dim light. I stifled a yawn, feeling the heaviness of exhaustion wash over me, and made my way to my own futon, which lay invitingly in the corner. As I settled into the warmth of the bedding, I closed my eyes, hoping to drift into a peaceful slumber.
Suddenly, the tranquility around me was shattered.
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
The jarring sound of my baseball bat striking the undead's heads reverberated in my mind, like a haunting drumbeat. I could almost feel the weight of the cold metal in my hands and the sickening crunch that followed each impact. My heart raced as I pressed my palms against my forehead, squeezing my eyes shut in an attempt to block out the memories.
Now that the adrenaline had faded and I was no longer in a life-and-death struggle, the full weight of what I had done sank heavily into my chest. The horror of my actions surged back with vivid clarity, each swing of the bat replaying in my mind like a gruesome film as I bashed in skull after skull.
I thought I had come to terms with the fact that I needed to do what was necessary to survive, but in the end, my conscience rebelled. As I lay alone on my futon, grappling with the gravity of my choices, silence enveloped the room, offering little comfort amid the turmoil within me.
x x x
"You have your objectives, men," the commanding officer declared, his voice steady and authoritative as he surveyed the line of soldiers before him. Clad in a green uniform of the Japan Self-Defense Forces, he wore a full-face gas mask that obscured his features, creating an air of severity. His grip tightened around the barrel of his standard-issue Howa Type 89 rifle as he stood before several platoons of men.
The morning sunlight glinted off the metal rivets of their gear, reflecting the urgency of their situation. "Once we finish setting up the C-4 explosives along all the connection bridges to Chiba, we will cut off any further infected from entering Funabashi," He paused, allowing the weight of his words to settle in. A low murmur of acknowledgment rippled through the ranks. "If you encounter anyone trying to cross the bridges, you have clearance to shoot. Absolutely no one is allowed to pass over. Is that clear?"
"Yes, sir!" Everyone echoed in unison. The commanding officer nodded, satisfied with their response, and raised his hand to dismiss them. The soldiers turned briskly, moving with purpose to assume their positions along the riverbank. One soldier, Private First Class Hiroyuki Okumura, however, had a look of reluctance hidden behind his gas mask as he held his assault rifle tightly.
The commanding officer, Officer Kurokawa Tatsuo, stood alone for a moment, taking in the spirals of smoke rising into the sky from the remnants of the once great city of Chiba. Doubt flickered within him, a silent protest against the harsh orders given by his superiors. Destroying the connecting bridges would not only trap the infected on the other side but could also leave any survivors hopelessly stranded, cut off from any chance of escape. Not to mention the callous order to shoot any desperate civilian trying to cross.
The operation in question was not limited to the Chiba Prefecture alone; it encompassed a strategic initiative targeting all the bridges in proximity to major urban centers throughout Japan. This decisive plan stemmed from the belief that the systematic destruction of these key transportation links would significantly enhance efforts to contain the infected population.
By severing vital routes, military forces would be better positioned to manage and ultimately reduce the number of those infected, operating with reduced concern for any potential escapes from heavily populated areas. The aim was not only to curb the spread of infection but also to establish a controlled environment where the military could carry out its operations with maximum efficiency and safety for the general public.
"Yet here we are, killing the public," Kurokawa muttered with sorrowful eyes. "So this is what Martial Law looks like in modern Japan."
It was a decision that weighed heavily on his conscience—harsh yet necessary, dictated by the demands of survival that echoed from higher up in the chain of command. In the end, Kurokawa was merely a cog in the vast machinery of military orders, following the directives handed down by his superiors without question.
As he turned to face the horizon, engulfed in smoke and chaos, seeming more like a scene from a horror movie, he couldn't shake the feeling of dread. "God has truly forsaken us," Kurokawa whispered under his breath, the words swallowed by the ominous sounds of a world unraveling.
x x x
I crouched behind an abandoned truck, my heart pounding as I observed the chaotic scene unfolding in front of the Mahima Cultural Hall. The building stood in eerie silence, its entryway now overrun by a large gathering of infected, their grotesque figures shuffling aimlessly in the midday light.
A fire truck had careened into the side of the Hall, now lying on its side with sirens blaring incessantly. The piercing wail of the siren cut through the stillness, transforming the scene into a nightmarish beacon, drawing every infected within earshot like moths to a flame.
"Just our luck," I said.
"Shit. There's too many of them." Saki muttered, her voice barely above a whisper as she peered cautiously over the edge of the truck. Her eyes darted nervously, catching the grotesque movements of the undead that lurked just a few yards away. Keika, standing close by, was visibly shaken, her face pale and her breath quickening in fear, but she remained silent, holding her ground beside us.
"We'll have to find a way around them to get inside," I replied, my voice steady despite the anxiety churning in my gut. I turned my gaze back to the Cultural Hall, scanning our surroundings for any potential openings. Unlike many other buildings we had encountered on our journey, the Cultural Hall was surrounded by a vast expanse of open space, devoid of cover.
Our goal was right there, but reaching it seemed impossible. The only viable route would require us to stealthily maneuver along the walls of the nearby apartment complex, using the nearby towering hedges for cover as we moved toward the rear of the building in hopes of finding a way in. However, the transition from the apartment walls to the street would force us out into the glaring open sunlight, leaving us vulnerable to the attention of the lurking infected. One wrong move and we'd be swarmed and torn apart. Even so, we had no choice.
Taking a deep breath to steady my nerves, I turned again to Saki, meeting her gaze. "Follow me," I said and began walking behind the hedges.
As we approached the rear of the Hall, I saw several infected hobbling on the road between us and the building. I cursed silently and racked my brain on what to do.
I'd have to create a loud enough distraction for those still on the street. But would that work? If these guys weren't attracted to the fire truck's siren, then that meant that not all infected were attracted to the loudest sound. That realization only brought more problems with how I'd deal with the undead in the future.
"Can I clear a path?" I asked myself. Saki, however, heard me. She grabbed my wrist tightly and shook her head.
"Are you crazy?! There's no way you can! There's gotta be over a dozen of them." Saki said angrily and fearfully. "I won't let you!"
"Sacchan's right, Hacchan! It's not safe!" Keika said, her scared eyes looking at me with worry.
I frowned and looked back at the walking horde of undead.
Think. Think! There has to be something I can do!
I looked up the road and saw a large moving truck. After a moment, I grinned. "I got an idea."