The Storage is Storaging
I had spent the remainder of the night reading through the Omniscient Tome, gathering as much information about my surroundings.
Siberia wasn't as safe as I thought. I had believed that the majority of the dead had decayed and died over the ten years, with a few stragglers being left, but that was not the case at all.
Whatever virus had infected this world, had created a way to keep the necessary muscles, tissues, and brain matter from decaying away, which was unnerving. If none of the undead could die via natural means, it meant that no place would ever truly be safe, unless the remaining survivors banded together and fought off the billions of undead, something which was as unlikely as the outbreak even happening.
However, unlikely didn't mean impossible.
I pushed the thought off to the side. I needed to focus on the present, not the future. Before I had realized it, the sun had come up over the horizon, signalling the beginning of a new day. I stored away the tome, withdrawing my Military uniform from my inventory alongside my holster, vest, helmet, and boots before getting them all on.
It felt good to be in familiar clothing. It felt even better to have some durable clothing that provided extra protection. Holstering my pistol, I attached my knife and holster to my belt before making my way outside.
I had to finish what I started, there was no if whats or maybes, it would be done.
I made my way back to the house, not encountering anything or anyone while I walked. I pulled out one the shovel I acquired, and went back to digging.
Hours passed as I dug four sixteen inch deep holes, making sure that I'd be able to cover their bodies completely. Walking back into the house, I rummaged through the family's house, finding sheets and blankets. I deposited the blankets into my inventory, before wrapping the bodies with the sheets.
The smell made me gag, as I picked the oldest child's body up. I struggled dragging it outside, as I wasn't the strongest person, before setting her body into the hole I dug. I repeated the same process with the other bodies, having to hold my breath for the mother's as the smell of chlorine gas was still very strong with her.
After setting them all in their individual graves, I began to pile dirt over their bodies. When all was said and finished, I was quite a bit tired, my muscles aches from hard work.
As I stood still, trying to catch my breath, I heard the familiar yell of the undead, followed by several more yells. Having fought two just yesterday, I could safely say I was not comfortable taking on more than that at the same time.
I withdrew my pistol, and knife, quickly turning toward the source of sound, seeing what I could only describe as a small horde coming toward me, some of them sprinting, some crawling, and walking. Shooting the sprinters was the hardest, as their sporadic movement made it easy to waste ammo.
However, I was the best marksman in my platoon. (I was ranked last in every competition we had.) So as the best god damn marksman, I expended three pistol rounds per sprinter, quickly emptying my magazine to deal with not even half the horde.
[Killed Undead. 5 Gold awarded.]
[Killed Undead. 5 Gold awarded.]
[Level Up! 5 skill points added]
[Killed Undead. 5 Gold awarded.]
[Killed Undead. 5 Gold awarded.]
[Killed Undead. 5 Gold awarded.]
[Killed Undead. 5 Gold awarded.]
[Quest: DOUBLE DIGITS BABY! Completed. 10 Gold added.]
[Killed Undead. 5 Gold awarded.]
The constant notifications that popped up was annoying to deal with as I shot every sprinter, except two dead. Unfortunately, I had no more ammunition in my magazine, and trying to reload while two sprinting undead came toward me was foolish.
I switched back to my original strategy, holstering my gun as I quickly sidestepped one of the undead, kicking the one in front of me down, before turning around once again to jam the blade of my knife into the back of the undead's head.
[Killed Undead. 5 Gold awarded.]
I walked over to the last undead, putting my boot on its head, holding it down before doing the same thing I'd done to all the other undead.
[Killed Undead. 5 Gold awarded.]
With the last of the sprinting undead death with, I turned my attention to the bunched up horde of walking undead. I didn't understand why some of them ran while these ones walked, but I wasn't complaining. With how close the undead were to one another, I saw the true lethality of the horde.
If even one of them managed to grab my arm while I was stabbing another undead, it'd be game over. Withdrawing my pistol once more, I unloaded the magazine, knife still in hand before dismissing the empty magazine, and acquiring a fully loaded one, before loading it into my gun.
"Tst tst tst tst tst"
[Killed Undead. 5 Gold awarded.]
[Killed Undead. 5 Gold awarded.]
[Level Up! 5 skill points added]
[Killed Undead. 5 Gold awarded.]
[Killed Undead. 5 Gold awarded.]
[Killed Undead. 5 Gold awarded.]
[Killed Undead. 5 Gold awarded.]
[Killed Undead. 5 Gold awarded.]
[Killed Undead. 5 Gold awarded.]
[Killed Undead. 5 Gold awarded.]
[Killed Undead. 5 Gold awarded.]
The walking and crawling undead were all death with swift, and efficiently. Unlike with the sprinting undead, I didn't expend more than one bullet for each corpse, leaving me with four bullets in my current magazine, and one in the chamber.
I switched my pistol to safe, before holstering it once more, before wiping the accumulated blood on my knife off, using one of the undead's shirts.
"Fucking ey. That was stressful," I sighed. Dealing with a horde wasn't something I wanted, yet it happened, and because it happened, I had grown more knowledgeable on the undead.
Variants, at least, that's what I would say. We had the normal sprinting/running Undead, which I'd dub "Sprinters." After that, we had "Walkers," the name should've been evident on what they did. Of course there was also the crawling ones. The name "Crawlers" fit pretty well, considering that's all they could do.
Hell, I'd rather deal with crawlers than the other two variants. I took one last glance at the graves, and mentally bid it farewell, at least for now.
Continuing on down the road, I reached a denser area of houses, with ones with two stories, green houses, barns, shacks, and warehouses. I had gone from a small village that had houses scattered around to a concentrated area, which only made me keep more on the alert. I stepped off the road, sticking to the overgrown grass, which did well to conceal me due to my uniform. In a Four way intersection were sandbags stacked up with weathered Humvees, and military tents set up. An idea popped into my head as I saw it, leading me to cross the road, and approach the lightly fortified area.
My house was great. It was clean, comfortable, and somewhat spacious, however there was one thing it lacked in.
Security.
In a zombie apocalypse, Security was your friend, and with all these left over boons from what I could only assume to be military personnel, it'd be foolish not to take it all. I began to put sandbag after sandbag in my inventory, simply touching it to make it disappear as I kept a lookout for any potential threats.
One sandbag emplacement disappeared, before I moved onto another, doing the same. By the time I had finish, all that was left was the tent, which was an all too familiar sight. Admittedly, it was strange seeing a US Military tent all the way in Siberia, but then again, maybe the US had tried to contain the outbreak here.
Approaching the tent, I could see that a lock was on the actual tent's door, preventing anyone from entering. Withdrawing Saint Longinus' Blade, I put it against the lock before going back and forth, feeling the razorsharp blade dig into the hardened steel lock, eventually cutting through it. As I began to unzip the tent, the cold sensation of metal against my neck caused me to stop moving altogether.
"German?" I heard the voice of a female ask. From behind me. Her slender fingers were gripping my shoulder while her knife remained at my throat.
"Canadian," I responded, feeling her grip on me loosen. Slowly, she withdrew her blade from my neck, as I slowly turned around, holding my hands up. In front of me was a blonde-haired woman whose hair had been braided and swept to the side. On top of her hair was a black beanie, which reached down to her ears.
Looking further down, I could see that she had on a dark grey, baggy jacket with a military vest on top which was the color coyete brown. Her pants were the same color as her jacket, while her boots, and gloves were both black, made of sturdy leather.
Her eyes carried weariness as she looked at me, yet there was a hesitance to take action against me as I looked at her, so I decided to speak.
"Are you a soldier?" I asked, receiving a shake of the head. "I am a survivor, who are you?" She asked. I couldn't help but notice her accent as she spoke. Clearly, english hadn't been her first language. "I am Theron Kostopoulos, and you are?"
"Syr," she responded, slowly lowering her knife. "Listen, Syr. I don't mean to sound rude, but we're in a bad place for a conversation. I'm gonna check out what's in here. If you want to come with, you're more than welcome," I said before turning back around. I opened the tent fully before unsheathing my knife.
"Where did you get that?" She asked, which I could only assume to be about my knife. "I was given it," I quickly responded before seeing what was inside. "Holy jeez," I said as I walked inside. "What, it is just concrete and barrels?" She said, causing me to turn toward her. "Do you realize how good this stuff is?" I asked rhetorically, before continuing. "Say you wanted to set up a wall to protect yourself from the undead. Concrete, rebar, and probably some metals gates or fences. Just the concrete is a boon, but that's just a stack in the center of the tent. There's much more."
The realization of what I was getting at set in, as she glanced between me and the concrete. "I'll give you my food for the concrete," I offered, seeing her shake her head again. "I don't want food. If you intend to use those resources for what you said, then I want in on it."
I shook my head. "Our first interaction was you holding a knife against my throat. Sorry, but I don't trust you as of yet." She shrugged, not even bothering to argue as I slowly walked around the concrete powder pile.
It was far too dark in this tent to make out just what was in it, so I turned to Syr, only to see that she already had a flashlight out. "Vous entrez ici sans source de lumière, imbécile." I didn't understand a single word she said, yet I felt slightly insulted. "French are gonna french," I murmured before taking the flashlight from her.
I turned it on, seeing a duffel bag on one of the portable tables set up inside. Across from the bag were some uniforms, which I could tell were marine woodland ones, US to be exact, confirming my theory.
"Go ahead and check out some things. I'm sure some of it will benefit you," I said, holding the flashlight for her to see. She approached the marine clothing, taking off her vest, before unbuttoning her blouse. "Woah," I said before quickly turning around.
"Light," she said as I quickly turned the light behind me, shining it on her. "You act as if you've never bed a woman before."
"I haven't," I replied, looking through my Storage to keep myself busy. I withdrew my ruck sack from my inventory, sliding it onto my back. I felt Syr tap my back. "It's okay to look now," she said as I slowly turned around.
The uniform was a bit long on her, however, she wore it well. "It's yours to keep it you want it," I said as I handed her back her. I opened the duffel bag, chuckling at my luck. Military tools ranging from flashlights, to field shovels, axes, and even canteens. I looked over at Syr, seeing that her only weapon was a knife. She wouldn't last long against a horde with only that.
A few thoughts ran through my head as I stared at the woman in front of me. I wasn't heartless enough to just ignore her needs, but at the same time, I didn't fucking know her at all.
I reached into my rucksack, and brought out The Omniscient Tome. "Should I trust Syr?" I asked with a whisper, seeing the book automatically began flipping pages.
Instead of giving me a yes or no answer, it told me to look at my companion tab.
[Name: Syr]
[Age: 21 (physically), incalculable (spiritually)]
[Height: 5'8]
[Weight: 123]
[Race: Lesser Divine Spirit]
[Likes: Romance, Cuddling, reading, meeting new people, cats, hogs, pigs.]
[Dislikes: HER, Tomatoes, betrayal, lack of morals, Klaus Schlattenmacher, Ares, Zeus.]
[Current Opinion of User: Positive]
[Friendship percentage: 5%]
[Romance Percentage: 1%]