Chapter 6: Remedies
Perspective: ???
Someday, I'll think about how I got here. It was strange — a bit of dizziness, a headache, and suddenly I was in a different place. I wonder, where are you?
It was easy, but also hard. I couldn't understand this, but that's what pushed me to get here.
I tried thinking like you, and it worked pretty well.
I imagine… you're here, right? You disappeared overnight; you weren't at the AHNS anymore.
So… are you here? Are you close? Are you far? Are you even still alive?
No — I'm sure you are, moving around out there, exploring the place… and yourself too.
I'm already wondering how many of those things you've killed by now. I wouldn't even be surprised if you've dared to kill humans too.
…
Perspective: Kiyotaka Ayanokouji
Jackson – Maria's Office
The air felt dense, like the walls themselves were loaded with the tension floating between us.
Tommy, sitting on a wooden chair, was looking over maps spread across the main table. Joel stood leaned against a wall, arms crossed, a frown tightening his face. Ellie had taken a seat on the edge of a nearby desk, her feet swinging lightly in the air, though her expression stayed serious.
Maria, holding a folder in her hands, was the one who broke the silence.
"We're seeing abnormal movement in the east. More infected than usual. And I'm not talking small groups…" She flipped through the pages. "We're talking hundreds. Maybe more."
Tommy exhaled sharply, frustrated.
"This is damn insane. If we don't do something, that plague is gonna fall on us in less than a week."
I looked at the map. The red marks formed a growing stain, like a disease spreading out of control. And the comparison was almost literal.
I stayed quiet for a few seconds, analyzing the situation. Infected moving in masses was natural now. They'd grown able to sense our scent over time, and soon — in less than ten years — they'd be able to track any of us with precision.
"Then we're going to face them."
…
"What do you mean, kid?" Joel asked.
"We reinforce the walls. We train the citizens."
"Are you out of your mind? We'd lose lives! Do you know what happens if they break the wall?" Tommy shot back, on the edge of desperation.
"If we use the strategy of splitting the hordes now, we're only causing a slow death. I did it the first time so we'd have this week to reinforce the community."
…
"He's right." Finally, Maria broke her silence. She took a moment, then said, "Notify the others."
I felt the words were directed at Tommy.
Maria walked out the door, and the silence returned.
…
Time Skip
Location: Jackson – Perimeter, 3 days later
The air had changed.
It no longer smelled like old wood and rural calm. Now it was loaded with sweat, gunpowder, and repressed fear.
The community of Jackson was awake.
Along the perimeter, men and women reinforced the walls with metal plates, wires, and sandbags. Sharp hammer strikes, groaning wood, and the constant screech of metal blended with voices barking quick orders.
A large-built man sweated as he held an improvised beam against a watchtower. Next to him, a teenager hammered planks with shaky hands. Fear made him clumsy, but fear also kept him working.
I walked past them unnoticed.
Near the barn, Tommy supervised several armed groups distributing crates marked with military symbols. Assault rifles, shotguns, ammunition. Some civilians hesitated when receiving a weapon; others took it like they'd been waiting their whole lives.
I saw an older woman receive a pistol with trembling hands. She didn't ask how to use it. She just held it, as if that alone was enough. Maybe in her mind, it was.
On the west side, where the old school had been turned into a storage facility, dozens of people carried bags of food and jugs of drinking water. Joel and Ellie were there. She pushed a wheelbarrow while joking with a smaller kid who helped her keep it steady.
Joel wasn't saying much these days. But his eyes said enough.
I got a little closer, stopping in the shadow of a shed. From there, I could watch them without being noticed.
…
In the central plaza, Maria gave instructions through an improvised loudspeaker. Behind her, a board showed names, schedules, patrol shifts.
Not everyone made it in time for this phase of preparation.
I sat on the edge of an empty fountain, watching it all from the center of the chaos. People moved like misaligned pieces of an old clock. Everyone knew what they had to do, but no one knew if it would matter.
I took a notebook I'd stolen from Maria's office and started writing:
– Distributed patrols.
– Basic reinforcement on critical points.
– Signal system installed.
– Limited ammunition.
Useless exercise. But it kept my mind occupied.
In the distance, the snow-covered mountains looked down silently, indifferent. The world wasn't at war. Only we were.
I wondered how many of the people I saw today would still be alive in a week.
And unintentionally, I thought about her again.
…
My memories — gray — entertained my mind only for a short moment. I forgot her memory immediately.
Location: Jackson – Outer Walls, night of the fourth day
The sky was covered by dense clouds, muting the moonlight. The darkness was almost absolute.
From atop the wall, the world felt contained… like it was holding its breath before screaming.
Joel stood a few meters to my left, his rifle resting on the edge of the tower. He didn't speak. He wasn't breathing normally, either. No one was.
A portable spotlight buzzed under tension, casting a beam into the distance. An empty field. Silence.
Then, the first sound.
A distant roar.
Then another.
Then dozens more.
The hum of the generator was overtaken by a chorus of animalistic screams, shrieks, growls, and the dragged echo of steps that refused to stop.
More spotlights flicked on. The sweeping light crossed the field and revealed them.
A black stain, endless. Advancing.
Running. Howling.
Infected. Hundreds. Maybe thousands.
"Open fire!" Tommy shouted from another tower.
The walls burst into activity. Flares lit up, bows tightened, rifles lifted.
Mine was already loaded.
The first shots flew before the order was even fully given. It didn't matter. Chaos was inevitable.
One of the first to arrive was a clicker. I saw it fall with a bullet to the head, but behind it came five more.
I fired a short burst. Two dropped.
Joel fired at the same time. An infected exploded against an improvised mine at the foot of the wall. Bone and flesh sprayed across the dirt.
"Focus fire on the central group!" Maria yelled from the watchtower.
The front line of infected slammed into traps, stakes, and barricades. Some climbed over the fallen bodies. Others simply kept moving as if pain didn't exist.
To my right, a civilian screamed when his rifle jammed. Before he could step back, an infected climbed part of the wall and dragged him over the edge. There was no time to react.
"Reinforce the west wing!" Tommy shouted, voice cracking with desperation.
I ran that way, jumping over a fallen ammo crate. The fire lit up the night like hell had awakened. I shot a runner trying to squeeze through a crack in the wall — just in time.
One, two, three more shots.
Ammo wouldn't last.
From my back, I pulled out a Molotov bottle, lit it, and threw it toward the infected piling up at the wall.
…
Somehow, I began to feel… disappointed.
How did I end up in this situation? What was the reason?
I'd never stopped to think: why did I come here? No — I simply let the wind carry me.
I guess… it doesn't matter anymore.
As I kept shooting more infected, the debate in my mind continued.
Me — my mind, my body — designed with surgical precision, to perform [step 1 – step 2]. Yet here, I have no objective to fulfill. No one to manipulate. Nothing crafted for me, nothing built for my convenience.
There is only survival.
I could experiment, I could desire, I could love, I could smile.
Do I want that?
Is that what I need?
…
No.
I don't need humanity. I don't need empathy.
They're nothing but useless emotions, dull and without any purpose for my needs.
I can't want anything, because the first thing I'd do is pull their strings, using them for simple, disposable purposes.
To me, everyone is a tool.
…
End of Chapter.