Lakefront Night (7), Santa Margarita Lake

There was no reason to waste even three minutes. Gathering the officers, Gyeo-ul interrogated the old man. The more information about Captain Harris, the better—troop numbers and condition, details on armaments, and so on. If he understood the circumstances and attempted a conversation, he might be able to avoid a battle.

Of course, the probability was low. Still, trying was the boy's way.

The old man testified, looking uncertain.

"Our troop... I think there are about sixty people left."

"That's imprecise."

"I'm sorry. Since that dawn, we've only been running for our lives... We were fleeing through mountains and forests, so I couldn't check how many were chasing us."

"Then, what basis do you have for estimating that number?"

"The soldiers originally under the captain numbered about a hundred. And when the massacre happened, I remember more than twenty soldiers tried to protect us. The fight itself was one-sided. The best they could do was buy time. Still, Captain's side must have suffered some casualties."

"I see..."

Gyeo-ul trailed off. Battles aren't as simple as addition and subtraction. In clashes between groups, the difference in fighting power is the square of the difference in numbers.

'It was an unplanned skirmish, so there must have been many variables, but it's hard to be sure. I need to expect the worst. That way, the lesser evil will seem lighter.'

The old man didn't know much. He was an ordinary civilian, unlikely to have the need or ability to assess the army's armament. A lot would have to be inferred. Still, there was one useful piece of information: they'd fought five battles to shake off pursuit. Really, calling them battles was shameful. In situations where neither could see the other clearly, they'd fired blindly.

The sheriff was a remarkably brave person. As Gyeo-ul had experienced today, she sometimes stayed behind with people like the old man—or even alone—to mislead pursuers in the wrong direction.

"Time's up. Let's go in."

Gyeo-ul spoke, tapping his wristwatch. The troops moved through the brush beside the road, not on the road itself. They didn't know where the enemy might be. There was a risk they'd have to face both the US Army and the mutant group at the same time.

Even now, static with Gyeo-ul's voice mixed in played through the radio. The signal was weak—meaning the distance was far. But the Trickster could also be deliberately weakening the jamming signal.

The survivors were hiding in the engineer office. This area was so isolated, they wouldn't have been able to find shelter from the wind and rain anywhere else.

'The problem is, Captain Harris will easily figure this place out too...'

Not running into them at all would be best, but that was growing less likely. Captain Harris and the US troops could probably deduce the reason people came here—there really was nothing nearby except for the dam.

The door was open. Inside, the sheriff was waiting, face still marked with unease—though better than before. Since Gyeo-ul had released her restraints, there seemed to be a seed of trust, though only a little. Gyeo-ul did not let his guard down. He couldn't say the same for the other civilians.

About ten meters ahead, he removed the old man's restraints. Telling him to go in first, Gyeo-ul then spoke softly to his soldiers, only loud enough for them to hear.

"Be careful with the civilians. They're likely to distrust soldiers deeply—they might even try to seize our weapons."

To say "seize weapons" was phrasing it nicely. He avoided calling it "attack" in consideration of the soldiers' state of mind.

"Still, we shouldn't make it obvious that we're being cautious. I get it. Don't worry."

Jeffrey replied.

Jeffrey and three other squads maintained the outer perimeter. One squad and the others entered the office with Gyeo-ul. Aside from the old man and the sheriff, people visibly trembling could be seen. It seemed due more to the cold than to fear. The sheriff looked worn out, but she was actually the best-off among them. There was no sign of anyone else armed. Apparently, they only had two rifles.

People were huddled together, sharing body heat. Even after the soldiers came in, they stayed close, though frightened. That's how cold it was. Among them, only two were sitting apart from the rest—a heavily pregnant woman and her husband. The medic groaned.

"My God. A pregnant woman? How did you manage to escape all this time?"

The sheriff answered.

"We have a horse. It's tied up a little ways from here."

The medic examined the woman and his face fell.

"Anything—something for fuel...quickly!"

There were signs someone had tried to start a fire and failed—papers gathered in a metal cabinet, rubbed with sticks. The soldiers hastily broke up the office furniture to use as fuel. With the din, Jeffrey—who was on outside patrol—peeked in and was shocked to see the pregnant woman.

As officer in charge, Gyeo-ul should have stopped them. There was no perfect way to block the light from leaking out. Even with thick fog, it could be seen from hundreds of meters away.

But he didn't stop them. He tossed the medic a box of matches from his breast pocket—matches included in their MREs, designed to light even in damp conditions.

The soldier used the pebble-like military fuel as kindling. The fire grew quickly. The colorless interior brightened. But it still wasn't enough; for everyone to stay warm, the fire would have to grow even larger. They piled the wood from smashed desks and chairs into the burning cabinet.

Gyeo-ul looked around the office. There was nothing suitable to cover the windows. Only stray sheets of paper intended for kindling. Gyeo-ul told his soldiers,

"Soak those papers and stick them to the windows."

If they'd had enough, they could have layered it and blocked out the light better, but there wasn't enough. They left the north-facing windows alone and focused the paper on other directions.

Gyeo-ul asked the pregnant woman's husband,

"When is your wife's due date?"

"Her water already broke. I don't know when her labor will start."

The husband replied through clenched teeth, his face awash with emotion. The medic covered his face with both hands—he seemed to be having a hard time coping with the situation.

Tension spread among the other survivors. They seemed displeased with the couple. The sheriff and the old man stared at them with cold eyes, standing in the middle as if to block some of the attention from focusing on the couple.

'What a mess.'

He could easily imagine their days of flight, what they went through. Consideration for the pregnant woman must have weighed on them. The others likely thought she was a burden.

'When life gets heavy, most people throw away their conscience first. It's the heaviest thing, after all.'

Even the soldiers who understood the circumstances showed signs of impatience. The distorted fragments of Gyeo-ul's voice over the radio tested their nerves all the more.

[Static... szzzt... If you encounter unidentified US forces, treat them as potential enemies... Meerkat, meerkat...all responsibility...chk... I'll take it... You are authorized to fire live rounds... Accused of civilian massacre... Meerkat, meerkat...]

Changing frequencies didn't help. The likelihood that Captain Harris hadn't heard Gyeo-ul's warning was very low. Gyeo-ul recalled Atascadero—the first encounter with the Trickster. The radioman had grumbled at the time: "Even for a monster, the equipment's impressive."

"Please promise me."

The husband, holding his wife close, said this—his bloodshot eyes fixed on Gyeo-ul.

"Promise me you won't abandon my wife."

His voice was cracked. He seemed to be feverish as well; his gaze was unfocused on closer inspection.

"Yes, I promise. But do you really believe my promise?"

"You're Second Lieutenant Han, aren't you?"

The man pronounced "Second Lieutenant Han" as if it were a proper noun. Well, Gyeo-ul's promotion to first lieutenant had been partly an attempt to win over public sentiment after Camp Obispo's fall. To this man, Gyeo-ul was still known as "Second Lieutenant Han," the hero of Santa Maria. Even after seeing the rank insignia, he still called him "second lieutenant."

Gyeo-ul skillfully crafted a gentle smile.

"Thank you for believing in me."

His notoriety was useful at times like this. The survivors stared mesmerized at the boy officer.

At the medic's urging, the soldiers pooled their rations. These people had barely eaten a meal a day for several days; a high-calorie menu would be too much for them. Using the ration's heating pack, they made a thin gruel out of the main dish. Taste didn't matter. The pregnant woman ate first; the rest took turns after.

During this, Gyeo-ul briefly stepped outside. Jeffrey signaled to him. He was lying in the brush, soaking in the rain, with a waterproof map spread before him. There were clear signs of tactical thinking.

"What will you do now?"

"First, I need to complete the mission. If we go five hundred meters more, there's the pump house."

"And after that? I think the best option is to withdraw as quickly as possible."

"It's hard to move, since there's a pregnant woman. Her water's already broken. Looks like we'll have to stay until she gives birth."

"Oh, my lazy Lord. Why do you always handle work this way?"

Jeffrey buried his head in the ground and muttered strange things, threatening to switch to a "flying spaghetti monster" if this continued. Nonsense, likely an old running joke.

After a few depressed head-thumps, Jeffrey spoke again.

"This is really bad. We don't have enough intel on the enemy, a mutant group is closing in, and we have to fight defensively stuck here and unable to move."

"Enough complaining. We'll have to split up our troops."

"Ugh. You're joking, right?"

"We have to perform the mission, but we can't leave the civilians behind, and we also can't bring them all with us. Some of them showed signs of mild hypothermia. For them, five hundred meters is a harsh distance that could mean the difference between life and death."

"And you want to split our forces?"

"We could use the horse. Riding, we can get there and back quickly."

"How many can it carry? We need to bring an engineer, for sure—and a guard? Isn't it too dangerous? For all we know, some half-dead bastards could be coming down from above."

"I'll go myself."

Jeffrey slammed his forehead again.

"... I'm losing it."

"We have to avoid scattering our firepower. My take is, Captain Harris might have a lot of troops, but he's probably short on ammunition. Firefights in the forest waste incredible amounts of ammo, right?"

"I thought the same after hearing the old man. I don't like the sheriff much, but wasn't she really good at that? If she were a bit younger, I might have proposed. Although, older women aren't my type."

"Enough joking. We're out of time."

When Gyeo-ul spoke firmly, the young platoon leader gave an embarrassed look. Gyeo-ul continued.

"In case—just in case—there's a skirmish while I'm gone, make it a battle of attrition. That alone will keep them from coming close easily. Sure, we can't move so we're at a disadvantage, but since we're defending, that evens it out. Lay traps around, too."

"Already set some. Claymores—antipersonnel mines, you know. Didn't use too many in case we have to move, but I guess we're making our stand here. I'll sprinkle the rest for good measure while you're gone. With tripwires and detonating cord set, they won't approach recklessly. The forest always favors whoever controls the ground first, right?"

A tripwire is a taut wire attached to a mine or explosive, usually installed at ankle height, set off by anyone who unwittingly touches it. Detonating cord is different—a string-like form of high explosive.

Either serves well as a trap. In the pounding rain and darkness, amid heavy shadows of the trees, it would be extremely difficult for enemies to use Perception to spot the traps.

"But you know..."

Jeffrey spoke.

"If that 'captain' really shows up..."

He trailed off. The young second lieutenant pressed his lips together.

"No, never mind."

They were on the verge of fighting fellow US soldiers. It couldn't feel right.

Too many words were poison. Gyeo-ul patted Jeffrey's shoulder.

"I'm counting on you, deputy-commander. Good work."

"... Yes, sir. Hurry back."

Since they couldn't use radios recklessly, a soldier spread word by running. Even though they were already exposed, there was no need to advertise all their movements.

Gyeo-ul went back into the office. The sheriff was still eating. He'd thought her strong, but she quietly wiped away tears. How long had it been since she'd had a warm meal? Gyeo-ul didn't want to disturb her, but he couldn't delay the mission. He spoke.

"Sheriff, I'm sorry, but could you show me where the horse is?"

"The horse? Why?"

Immediate suspicion gleamed in her eyes. Gyeo-ul explained.

"Don't worry. I came here to prevent Salinas Dam from collapsing. That doesn't mean I can abandon you all, so I'm taking only one other person with me to hurry. Please cooperate."

"I didn't mean to be suspicious... Haaa, sorry."

Gyeo-ul had a soldier return her rifle. He also gave her a spare magazine.

"I trust you."

The sheriff widened her eyes and bowed lightly to the boy officer.

Of the three engineers, none could ride a horse. In the end, Gyeo-ul sighed and took the reins himself. An engineer who volunteered to come along was surprised.

"When did you learn to ride?"

"Just now."

The soldier took the boy officer's answer as a joke. Gyeo-ul steered the horse north, looking down at the sheriff. She was aiming her weapon into the darkness of the woods.

"Go inside, sheriff."

"It's Kathleen Hayland. I'd like you to call me by name."

She answered, voice still nearly colorless but less sharp than at their first meeting. Gyeo-ul nodded.

"Alright, kathleen. Go in and wait. I'll be back soon."

Then he whipped the reins. The gentle, maned creature responded smoothly.

----------------------------= Author's Notes -----------------------------=

#Gag

There's a "Zombie Survival Quiz" diagnosis maker. Here are my results:

–Tunguska's main weapon is Brain Attack, killed 110,000 zombies.

Survival time: 30 days

People rescued: 4

Cause of death: Gag

So they say. How did they know I was good at gags...

I will keep making jokes until the end of the world. Thank you for your support.

#Q&A

Q. sa2002: @Are you drinking tea and heading to heaven?

A. In Dreamland where I live, there's no heaven.

Q. ZERO4: @With love from Russia!

A. Not many people know that movie these days... nice to see you do.

Q. MasterCarlSolum: @tea from heaven I was hungry so I just mashed up three triangle kimbaps in a bowl and mixed them up, and it's tastier than "military rations."

Shocking.

A. It's been seven years since I last had a triangle kimbap. I have no idea what they taste like these days.

Q. Ghozt: @I want to get into Cthulhu myths, could you recommend any entry-level book for a beginner? I can only read modern standard Korean.

A. School textbook on "Wise Living"... just kidding. All the published Korean translations of Lovecraft's collections are notorious for their translation quality, so honestly, I can't recommend a starting point. Either read the collections, ignoring translation issues, or just check the wiki.

Q. qoewh: @"Gureng!"

O Great Old One, do you know Will! and Mercy?

A. Hmm... what's that?

Q. GlorySpear: @They say a Javelin was fired at three guerrilla infantry. Now, for the war criminals, shall we launch a B-bomber?

A. I think selling the bomber for bribes would be better. Maybe those guerrillas could be persuaded to retire on an island nation like Tuvalu if we gave them the proceeds from selling the missiles. Ha ha. Just kidding.

Q. NeoGGM: @To the Great Old One, even radiation is just a seasoning. In Discovery, to take out an estimated three enemies at 1.6km with an AKM...using Javelins... Impossible in Korea...

A. No, it's possible in Korea. They keep saying we need to spend more, despite spending 6.8 trillion won on barracks improvement. I lived in a barracks with collapsed exterior walls... shaking with rage...

Q. Naelmeung: @Listen. If you really update three times a week, I'll... I'll... lock you up without mercy. Eat like a dog and just keep writing! (flings a support coupon)

A. My, my, eating chocolate like a dog... what a big child's heart you have. I salute you. But I won't give up on three posts a week. Ha ha ha. There is a future for those who dream.

Q. HealthySummoner: @If I drink tea and grow two heads, one can grow innocence and the other thinks about serialization...?! PROFIT!!

A. I don't think a head like that would be normal...

Q. RGZ95: @The inevitable "soldiers massacring civilians" in post-apocalypses 8.8...

A. I see it as something that can commonly happen when the fabric of society collapses. 8_8

Q. Gogooguma: @Really enjoying the story!! Could we see a special episode where Gyeo-ul plays a different game? Racing, fantasy, modern, or martial arts!

A. Or maybe BL... Nah, never mind, just talking to myself.

Q. PepperToPepper: @I'm an author addicted to radiation. Please press like to express condolences.

A. Please press like to express Joy.