After little debate, Limo agreed with Gantsuke's suggestion:they would relocate temporarily to the cabin once owned by Jon Wick, to train the girls in firearms and survival.
They spent two days preparing.
Rain had soaked the forest overnight, leaving the pine woods lush and fragrant.By 7 a.m., Gantsuke, Limo, Sylvester, and the four girls had arrived at the isolated two-story cabin, nestled deep in the forest—about sixty kilometers from their main base.
Marie's overflowing crab-stick-and-fried-egg sandwiches made sure no one started the day hungry.
"This place is nice," Limo muttered, sipping his steaming coffee.He squinted toward the black M14 rifle on the plastic table in front of him, then turned his gaze to the iron fence running along the forest's edge."These fences should keep the zombies out," he added, watching the fog drift lazily through the treetops.
The mountain air was cool and calming.For the first time in days, Limo's posture relaxed.
Gantsuke noticed and smiled while loading 9mm rounds into his pistol's magazine.He was the one who proposed bringing the girls here for at least a week—or until they could finally protect themselves.
"Mind tossing me the keys?" Limo asked, standing up and brushing off his jeans."I want to check the inside."
"You sure you don't want me to come?" Gantsuke reached into his pocket and handed over a heavy key ring.
Limo simply shrugged. "Do your thing."
Coffee cup empty, revolver holstered on his belt, the mustached man walked off toward the wooden cabin.
Cabin, Gantsuke had called it.
Limo scoffed.This is a cabin? That boy must not know the difference between a shack and a vacation home.
The building was a two-story lodge made of thick pine logs, equipped with solar panels on the roof.Out back: an overgrown vegetable patch, a campfire circle, and what appeared to be a BBQ grill surrounded by empty beer bottles—clear signs that Officer Jon Wick had liked to host.
There was no direct electricity, but a bright yellow Lolluta generator sat locked inside a cage by the house.
Gun drawn, Limo made his way to a tarp-covered pile beside a neatly stacked pyramid of chopped firewood.
Using a dry pine branch about a meter and a half long, he prodded the tarp carefully, revolver ready.
When he finally yanked the tarp away, he gasped—
"Holy hell."
Underneath was a mud-splattered camouflage ATV.The sight of it made his heart race with joy.
Guy had good taste.
Limo moved on to a wooden outhouse on the right side of the yard.Its door was shut.
WHAM.He kicked it open.
Nothing inside—just a moss-covered blue water barrel and a plain white toilet.The roll of tissue beside it had turned into a biohazard, black with mold and surrounded by cockroaches and giant centipedes.
"Phew," he exhaled, relieved.Thankfully, Marie had packed a fresh set of tissue rolls that morning.
About 300 meters past the backyard, a sheer cliff face loomed high into the clouds.
Nothing's coming from that direction, he thought. Unless the damn cliff collapses on us.
Inside, the main floor had a large rectangular wooden table and six log chairs.Bookshelves flanked the right wall beside a window.Next to them was a giant armchair draped in bear fur, calling out to be sat in.Mounted heads of bears, boars, and deer decorated the pine walls.
Near the left wall, Limo inspected two storage cabinets.The top held climbing ropes, boots, and gear—probably for scaling the cliff behind the house.
"Rock climbing, huh? You're a real mountain man, Jon Wick," Limo muttered as he ran his hand over the well-worn gear.
Below were lanterns, hand saws, and a multipurpose hatchet.One of the cabinets was empty, save for corn kernels and crumbs—likely once filled with food.
A staircase led to the second floor.There, he found only a storage chest full of sleeping bags and an open space for sleeping.
Limo walked over to the only northern-facing window.Framed like a live painting, it showed rolling green mountains and drifting clouds—so vivid they looked hand-painted by the wind.
To the right, about 100 meters away, was a small shooting range.To the left, 300 meters away, was the property entrance.
This is a fortress, Limo thought, patting the thick log walls.
Back downstairs, the front door—made of hardwood reinforced with iron—looked sturdy enough to belong to a medieval keep.
Limo stepped out onto the porch to enjoy the forest air.
He was just about to holster his revolver when—
"Aaaahhh!"Meenda's scream shattered the peace.
"What happened?" Limo called out, running downhill, gun drawn and breath quick.
"S-something's moving under there!" she cried, pointing at a bulging tarp covering the food crates.
"What is it?" Gantsuke had just arrived, gun already drawn.
"Hold on!" Limo held up a hand.
The smell, the tracks—he knew what it was.
"Don't do anything rash!" Gantsuke called, eyes wide, as Limo strode up and yanked the tarp off.
"KYAAAH!" Meenda screamed again, clutching Gantsuke's arm—
As two wild boars burst from under the tarp, squealing madly and charging past them.
"MY INGREDIENTS!" Marie cried, dropping to her knees in despair as she reached the scene.Flour, ham, and food supplies—everything they'd packed for a week—were now strewn in the mud, mixed with the boars' droppings.
"We've got barely anything edible left now," Gantsuke growled, surveying the ruined rations.
"I'll scout that way," Limo said, pointing toward the west side of the fence—where the boars had escaped.
"If we're lucky, maybe we'll recover tonight's dinner."
"Want me to come?"
"No need. Did you forget I used to be a soldier?" Limo smiled gently, reading the worry in Gantsuke's eyes.
"Do your job. I'll be back."
With that, Limo turned toward the ATV parked beside the cabin.The mid-morning sun was bright and warm—Perfect weather for a hunt.