Chapter 2: Critical CrossroadZ

We settled into our seats and took to the road. Our goal was clear: reach lab one, locate the time machine, and reset the world.

“An honest-to-goodness time machine,” Shino marveled from the backseat. “What are the odds?”

Shiiko was sitting between Otoha and Shino. Her wheelchair was covered with a plastic sheet and affixed to the roof rack on top of the car. Unsurprisingly, we hadn’t been able to fit it inside.

At present, Shiiko was slightly hunched over, her shoulders tucked inward. She actually looked like a cute girl her age. Behind her youthful exterior, however, she was a genius scientist who’d worked on technology so advanced that it was like magic to the rest of us.

“As I told these two earlier,” she said, “you can’t just travel back in time all willy-nilly like you might see in manga; we’re talking strictly about data transfers here. We can’t undo the damage ourselves, but we can send out a warning message. The average person would probably brush it off as complete nonsense, but a North River Co. employee should respond accordingly.”

“I’m not too familiar with the subject matter at hand,” said Tetsuko, manning the wheel, “but wouldn’t that result in us changing the past?”

“It would.”

“Then what happens to the present?”

“I... don’t know,” Shiiko replied. “I can see us returning to our old lives as though nothing had ever happened. Then again, even if we do end up succeeding, there’s no guarantee that the zombie apocalypse gets nipped in the bud. Experiments have shown that all paths converge into a single, predetermined outcome.”

“Then what’s the point of taking any action at all?”

“The issue here is that we immediately run headfirst into what’s known as the grandfather paradox. By altering the past we remove the need for it to be altered in the present, resulting in a contradiction. Thus, even in the best-case scenario, averting the zombie apocalypse altogether is highly unlikely. That being said, there might just be a fine line where the present could potentially change for the better without causing a paradox. More specifically, erm, the zombies disappearing the exact moment we get the message off... or something along those lines.” Shiiko clearly didn’t feel comfortable making definitive predictions, judging from her uncertain tone of voice.

In short, she seemed to think that once the connection between the zombies and the past had been severed, they’d return to being lifeless corpses.

“Then the dead are going to stay that way... for good,” Shino muttered, her eyes fixed on the case resting at her feet.

“In all likelihood,” Shiiko replied, her gaze also downcast. “Though that might not necessarily hold true... in some unobservable parallel world, that is. The universe continually splits apart, resolving every possible quantum outcome across myriad worlds, if we go by the many-worlds interpretation. Our world will likely remain unchanged, however.”

“So, to dumb that all down for my gamer brain, we won’t have to worry about our memories of the apocalypse disappearing or whatever, but the zombies will probably just poof out of existence?”

“Something like that. We may even be able to restore society, given enough time and effort.”

“Hats off to all the brave men and women carrying the great burden that is our collective future.”

“You say that while failing to recognize that we might be the only ones left, in which case, the burden is ours to carry.”

“I, well, I guess so?”

Restoring society sounds nice and all, but what would it entail? Would we go around looking for other survivors, assuming there are any, or would we first have to shut down all the nuclear reactors across the country? All... however many of them? Us nobodies?

“Wait a moment...” Shino tilted her head in consideration. “Wouldn’t that mean we’d have to make like a postapocalyptic Adam and Eve?” Her cheeks flushed a deep pink at the thought.

Adam and Eve? She can’t possibly mean what I think she means, right?

“Don’t know what you mean by ‘we.’ There’s only four possible combinations,” Shiiko said flatly.

“Four, you say?”

“There are four females and one male.” Shiiko pointed at each of us in turn, ending with me. “Do the math.”

I stand corrected.

“What’re you two babbling about, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“We’re talking about who will be your bride, of course,” Shino murmured, averting her gaze.

“Take your pick,” Shiiko said, holding up four fingers.

“Like hell I will!”

Tetsuko had a sardonic grin on her face, Shino was staring at the ground with a flushed face, and Otoha... well, it was business as usual for her.

After a few moments of this awkward vibe, Shino said, “Actually, Shiiko, I think it’d be best if we removed you from the list.”

“Why?”

“According to Japanese law, you’re not eligible for marriage yet.”

“Laws mean nothing without a functioning government to impose them.”

“F-Fair point.”

“Also, consider the fact that Hiroaki said, and I quote, ‘You’re mine now. I own you.’” Shiiko clearly wasn’t afraid to rub salt in the wounds. “That’s a proposal if I’ve ever heard one.”

“Why, I never!”

Don’t take it to heart, Shino. Like, really. Please don’t.

“N-Not that I would want to, but, erm, if worst comes to worst...” Now Shiiko was the one getting flustered.

Do I get a say in any of this?!

“Your conclusion doesn’t follow your premises,” Otoha interjected, holding up her index finger. “Marriage is a legal construct. In terms of efficiency, we’d have to look toward polygamy, not monogamy.”

An awkward silence followed. The car’s engine hummed in the background.

“I suppose greater genetic variety is essential if we’re looking to repopulate the planet,” Shiiko groaned, crossing her arms. “But a harem, really? How deplorable.”

“Pervert.”

“For shame.”

All three girls took turns belittling me.

Oh, so I’m the one at fault here. I see.

“Teehee. Hiroaki is quite the lady-killer.”

Not you too, Tetsuko! Stop laughing!

And just like that, I was now officially a harem-loving deviant, despite the fact that I’d done nothing wrong. Just between you and me, I felt like fading out of existence.

Worn out by the conversation, I took the opportunity to reflect on our actual situation. A time machine, huh? Will it save the world? Will it undo what has been done? I don’t know the answer to that, but I do know that it’s already given us hope.

Those three are having the time of their lives, going on and on about... something. Even Tetsuko’s smiling.

Something dawned on me at that moment.

Just the tiniest glimmer of hope, no matter how dim or seemingly out of reach, draws us toward it like bees to a flower. We’re always seeking that nourishment for the soul.

◆

Out in the middle of nowhere, nestled among mountains and shrouded in forest, it stood: North River Co.’s Japanese lab number one.

Wide and short in stature, the mountainside building was a thirty-something-minute trip away from the nearest public road, making it practically invisible to passersby. Stumbling upon it by chance would’ve been no easy feat.

It appeared to have been home to many employees, judging from the sheer number of walkers roaming the area. Some donned white coats, while others wore blue uniforms. They were male and female, both young and old.

The miasmic stench of rotting flesh hanging in the air was a sign that they had turned zombie in the very initial stages.

With every step, swarms of flies enveloping their bodies like a wriggly, charcoal-black skin flew off and back on again, beginning the cycle anew.

It made for a deeply repulsive sight.

“Multiple threats detected. Forty or so, all likely former employees.”

Out in the distance, shadowy figures obscured by the veil of nightfall were observing the building and the walkers that roamed its premises.

Their bulky frames were covered in camo, multipurpose vests, and knee and elbow protectors. Guns were slung over their shoulders. At first glance, they could’ve been taken for members of the military.

However, they were clearly not associated with the JSDF, going by their equipment. Their firearm of choice was the Heckler & Koch UMP, a submachine gun that used .45 ACP cartridges.

The UMP had been designed for special forces, meaning that you wouldn’t have seen it out on the battlefield; rather, the gun was intended for use in counterterrorist or sabotage operations.

Instead of opting for supersonic 9mm Parabellum cartridges, the golden standard for submachine guns, this weapon was fitted with higher-caliber but subsonic .45 ACP because of its insta-kill potential and suppressor-friendly properties.

A suitable choice for an all-out battle.

Yes, these individuals were out for zombie blood, and their gear reflected that.

Case in point: not only were their joints protected by reinforced plastic protectors, but so were their hands, feet, and necks—parts that a zombie could easily get to.

“Our prize sleeps at the bottom of this facility,” the presumed squad captain said into the communicator affixed to his chest. “Our goal is to find and secure it. Shoot down every zombie in sight.”

His men nodded without saying a word.

Pssh-pssh-pssh went the UMPs in unison, a sound so dull that it barely even qualified as a gunshot.

Gunfire rained upon the zombies wandering around the facility.

Normally, they would’ve been able to react to the attack, but due to the suppressors, and the fact that the source was a good distance away, they had been caught completely unawares.

Most of them quickly fell to the ground, bullet-shaped holes adorning the backs of their skulls.

“South-side entrance, clear!”

“East gate, clear!”

“North gate, clear!”

The squad captain popped out of the woods and rushed straight toward the front entrance.

Along the way, a few stragglers tried getting the drop on him, but he put a bullet in every single one of their heads and made it to the door unscathed.

“Threat neutralized. Shifting to phase two.”

He pulled a key card out of his pocket and placed it against the electronic scanning device on the wall. He had made sure to pack explosives just in case plan A backfired, but the shutters started rolling up without a hitch.

All according to plan, he thought to himself, but he had no idea what was about to come.

“Bravo, Charlie? Report back immediately.” The units in charge of the east and north gates did not respond. Even more worryingly, his own unit was nowhere to be found.

“Hey!”

No sooner than the word left his mouth did a blurry flash of light flicker in the dark, catching his attention.

A muzzle flash. Although it couldn’t really be seen during the day, it was just barely visible at night, even with the silencer equipped.

And then... a bloodcurdling scream rang out in the distance.

“What the hell’s going on out there?!” the captain yelled into the communicator.

Miraculously, one of his men replied, screaming, “Alpha One reporting in! The zombie, it’s—oh God... s-stay back! Stay baaack!” The piercing shriek that followed echoed louder than the gunfire.

Then came an explosion.

“You imbeciles!” the captain exclaimed as he watched the flames rise.

Someone must’ve gotten the drop on them, and in their confusion, they had used the explosives meant for plan B. This did not bode well, as the explosion could’ve attracted zombies out on the public roads.

It was now a race against time. Do or die.

He knew that securing the prize was all but impossible, so he settled on simply pinpointing its location as he stepped into the building.

“What the—?!” Motivated by some primal instinct, he whipped his head around.

At that exact moment, something seemed to materialize behind him. Such an astounding feat of dexterity had been performed by none other than what appeared to be a... zombie.

Its flesh was so rotten, so decayed, that the only identifiably humanlike features were its general body shape and red, glowing eyes.

What are you?!

Many animals, including dogs and cats, had a layer of specialized tissue, known as tapetum, just behind their retinas. Tapetum gave light a second chance to be absorbed by the animals’ eyes and caused them to shine in the dark.

Humans, however, weren’t lucky enough to have this tissue. Thus, these glorified human corpses known as zombies shouldn’t have had it either.

Smacking his lips, the captain unloaded his UMP. Ten rounds shot out in the span of a single second, most of which landed in the upper body region. They weren’t just any rounds, oh no; they were high-caliber soft-point rounds.

Its head burst into pieces, and then it unceremoniously collapsed to the ground.

“Huh?”

At least, that was what was supposed to happen.

Instead, the zombie stood its ground, completely unfazed.

The bullets had most definitely landed. He even saw loose chunks of flesh flying off of the zombie’s body. Yet there it stood.

“Wh-Why isn’t it working?!”

He unloaded the rest of the magazine. Not only did it remain standing, but it began stepping toward him, as though it had noticed his magazine was empty.

The captain reached for a backup magazine in his multipurpose vest, but the zombie wouldn’t allow him the chance to fire again.

“Grk!”

Closing the distance in an instant, the creature seized his hand.

It’s that fast?! No way!

His hand was crushed, along with the backup magazine in it. Blood and bullets spilled onto the floor.

“AaaAahHh!” The man let out a guttural scream as the zombie chewed through his protection and into his flesh.

◆

North River Co.’s labs were scattered all across the country, from Okinawa to Hokkaido.

The fact that lab one was situated in Honshu of all places really made me feel like we’d lucked out. Making the trip to Kyushu or Shikoku or even Hokkaido wouldn’t have been the worst thing ever, assuming all the bridges and the tunnels were intact, but I shuddered to even think about Okinawa.

We were on the road pretty much day and night, stopping only to occasionally siphon gas from abandoned cars or to switch drivers.

“Wow, you actually can do it,” said Otoha, who was currently riding shotgun.

“Told you, didn’t I?” I replied.

The stretches of dark road, illuminated only by the occasional street light, continued on and on and on. Since there was no oncoming traffic to speak of, I had switched on the high beams. There was something surreal about the bright lights seamlessly cutting through the dark.

“I’ve had practice in the virtual realm, but it’s my first time handling the real thing, so don’t expect too much.”

“I never did.”

“Gee, thanks.”

Tetsuko, Shino, and Shiiko were in the back catching some Zs.

“You’d better get used to it; you never know what could happen,” Tetsuko had said, and just like that, my journey to driving mastery had begun. Well, it was kind of a short and uneventful one, seeing as we just had to head straight all the way to the lab.

Funnily enough, all the stray zombies had seemingly vanished from the road the moment I’d gotten behind the wheel.

All I had to do was drive in a straight line and nothing else... nothing at all.

Still, that would’ve been mind-numbingly boring, not to mention sleep-inducing, so I’d decided to engage in some quality conversation with Otoha instead. “You know, it’s almost like we’re on a nighttime drive.”

I immediately regretted saying it.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. What even was that, a half-baked pickup line?!

“Aren’t we?” Otoha tilted her head.

“Well... yes.”

Okay, yes, we are literally on a nighttime drive, but I meant it in more of a romantic excursion sort of way. You know what, I should probably just be glad she didn’t catch on and pretend this never happened.

Otoha was as dense as ever, although it was cute in its own way.

“Hope is a nice thing, isn’t it?”

Even a microscopic amount is preferable to crawling around in the dark, blind to everything around you.

“I guess.” Otoha’s tone came off as unusually pensive, though it was so subtle only I would’ve been able to tell.

“Feeling a little down?”

“I’m always this way,” Otoha said, staring off into the night. “Always have been.”

The last bit felt important somehow.

This is Otoha, who’s always this way. Otoha, who’s always been this way. Otoha, the emotionally stunted zombie aficionado labeled as a wackjob by everyone around her. Otoha, who had survived precisely because of that. Otoha, who’s my partner and my lifesaver.

Otoha, who... might not want things to change.

“Do you like it better this way?” I asked as casually as I could.

This might be a stretch, but what if Otoha feels like this is what her entire life has led up to? That this is where she truly belongs? The potential ramifications of time travel are a toss-up at the moment, but what if Otoha ends up losing her place in the world? Is she gonna lock herself away in her room and watch zombie flicks and make weapons all day long?

“Do you not feel like saving the world?”

“You could say that,” Otoha said matter-of-factly.

Actually, I don’t think I know much at all about Otoha’s past. I mean, she told me a little about her family once, but that’s about it.

I have no idea where she lived, what school she went to, anything about her friends or lack thereof, her other hobbies, her favorite food, her favorite animal... I know nothing about her normal, everyday life.

“Keep your eyes on the road.”

“I am, see? See?” Although my eyes were on the road, my attention had shifted to Otoha.

She could be oddly perceptive at times. The girl never ceased to amaze me.

Then again, it’s not like I’m dying to talk about my past either, seeing as it mostly consisted of me rotting away in my room grinding away at FPS games.

I wholeheartedly enjoyed it, but at the same time, I’m willing to recognize that society at large had a less than favorable outlook on my hobbies and general lifestyle.

Diehard FPS nerds in particular seemed to attract a lot of ire. The only ones who understood us were our own kind; everyone else just wrote us off as war fetishists or closet serial killers.

Maybe there’s a part of me that doesn’t want things to change either. A part of me feels fulfilled, like I’m actually living life.

“Oh, and one more thing.”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t you even think about turning on us in the end.”

Otoha didn’t play dumb. She just quietly stared off into the distance. Resting her arm on the door, she set her chin in her hand and let out a small sigh.

I had never seen her express emotion this openly before.

“This world is my own personalized utopia, in a sense.”

“Mmm.”

“Here, no one treats me like I’m missing a few screws. On the contrary, people seem to respect my opinion—you, Shino, Uemura, and Shiiko, too. It’s been such a blast. Life finally feels worth living.” Although Otoha’s delivery was as flat as ever, I knew the words came straight from the heart, and they hit a little too close to home. “But all things come and go.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“It’s not commonly touched upon in zombie media, but zombies, regardless of their origins, will inevitably rot away into nothing. So long as their numbers grow faster than human reproduction rates, they’ll go extinct sooner or later. There’s no future for this world. It’s doomed either way.”

“Makes sense.”

How could I forget to ask myself that one extremely fundamental question: what is a zombie? According to Otoha, there are all kinds of real-life examples of one living thing taking over another.

For example, there’s a worm that infects the mind and body of a snail, its intermediary host, so that it can force the snail to crawl out in the open and get eaten by a bird, which is its definitive host. Then, the worm breeds in the bird’s guts, thereby propagating its species. The host snail can’t tolerate heat and prefers venturing out at night, but the worm sends it out into the daylight and makes the eyestalks pulsate to attract birds.

It’s a perfectly understandable parasitic strategy honed through the process of evolution.

However, if we assume that a virus is to blame for the zombie outbreak, it’s an incredibly inefficient strategy in terms of long-term survival. With its abnormal infection rate, it’s bound to run out of host bodies eventually, bringing about its own eventual demise.

How would such an absurd virus even come to be in the first place? Or maybe it’s not a virus, but rather some kind of cancer cell?

Cancer cells, much like parasites, kill themselves and the host, but there’s an important distinction to be made between the two: the former isn’t a result of a parasitic strategy developing over time. Cancer is simply a gene mutation causing unchecked cell growth. In other words, cancer is not contagious; even I know as much.

Man, I really don’t get it. Why did zombies appear when they did, and how did they spread at such ludicrous speeds? Why is it that these terrifying monsters are able to bring an end to humanity and yet they can’t even survive themselves?

Where’s the logic? Is there even any?

“In conclusion,” Otoha said, “zombies are better off on the big screen, where they belong.”

“Took you long enough.”

Wait, when did she have time to arrive at that conclusion?

“Sometimes a hobby should stay a hobby.”

Hear it all the time.

“Can’t expect any new zombie movies to come out at this rate either.”

“Indeed.”

In a way, we’re kind of living in our own zombie flick. There’s just no end credits in sight.

“So, Otoha, I’ve been meaning to ask you something for the longest time now. How did you get into zombies in the first place?”

So into it, in fact, that even her family kept their distance.

“What’s it to you?” she asked sharply.

“I just want to get to know you a little better, that’s all.”

People have their own reasons for liking things, and sometimes they just don’t feel like talking about it. Otoha’s no exception. She must’ve been through her fair share of difficult experiences, so maybe forcing her to cough them back up wouldn’t be very kind of me. But, I mean, we’re partners.

Partners talk to each other, make sure they’re okay... and if not, they lend a helping hand. Helping Otoha helps me as much as it does her.

“It’s not like you just woke up one day with the need to eat, sleep, and breathe zombies, yeah? If you don’t wanna talk about it, I’m cool with that, though.”

Otoha stayed silent, her face still turned toward the dark. She kept the act up for a solid three minutes before finally giving in to boredom. “The thing I find fascinating about zombies is that they’re dead, but not really.”

“Oh?”

“Just like I used to be.”

Used to be a... zombie? What else could she mean by that?

“I used to be... indifferent to life, let’s say.”

“I can see that.”

Just look at how little she cares about anything that doesn’t involve zombies.

“My dad took me to see my first ever movie: a zombie movie, of course. It left a lasting impression on me.”

“Quite the character, huh?”

For most people, that kind of thing would’ve happened around kindergarten or maybe early elementary school. What kind of dad takes his prepubescent daughter to a zombie movie?

“It was during the holidays, so virtually every other film was sold out. We didn’t have much of a choice.”

“I see.”

“One of the characters was this little girl who was indifferent to life, much like me. She’d constantly grumble about how life was meaningless, how she didn’t care about dying, something to that effect. That all changed when she ran into a zombie. After that, her lust for life was formidable.”

“Sounds about right.”

“But in the end, she turned anyway.”

“I should’ve known.”

The scriptwriter clearly wasn’t pulling any punches.

“Normally, you die and that’s the end of it, but she was cursed to roam the streets as the very thing she hated most: a zombie.” Otoha’s face was riddled with grief and melancholy. “I realized that being dead but not really is a horrifying thing. That’s when it hit me. Wouldn’t being alive but not really be just as scary, if not even more so?”

Living life—if you can even call it that—when you’re dead inside doesn’t sound the least bit fulfilling, and an unfulfilling life inevitably leads to regret in the grave. How ironic that the ones who are so quick to reject life lust for it more than anyone else.

“I thought, ‘Am I really any different from a zombie?’”

“Deep,” I said half-jokingly to lighten the mood a little. “Gaining perspective from a zombie movie... Well, I’ll be.”

Classic Otoha, I thought to myself, completely convinced there was nowhere for the conversation to go from there.

“Have you heard of Cotard’s delusion?” Otoha asked, seemingly unfazed.

“Uh, say what?”

“It’s a rare condition that makes you believe you’re dead.”

“That’s an actual thing?”

The more you know.

“In my case, it might not necessarily be Cotard’s per se, but I’ve always felt like I don’t really exist. Not quite dead yet not quite alive, like I’m drifting between the two extremes.”

“Wow.”

“Which is why,” Otoha said, side-eyeing me, “that one line you delivered to Shino as you tried convincing her to shoot her dad made me feel... happy.”

“How so?”

“I realized that I’d found someone who thinks like I do.”

“What do mean by—oh, yeah, I see.”

“The man’s suffered enough. Let’s put an end to his misery.” She probably means this one.

“Wait... you heard all that?!”

Wasn’t I whispering in Shino’s ear? How did she pick that up?

I hadn’t been trying to get some deep point across; it was just a pep talk. Still, I decided to keep that little detail to myself.

“It’s either life or death, one or the other; skirting the line will make everyone involved miserable. The dead deserve their rest, and the living deserve to live their lives to the fullest. That’s my guiding philosophy, shaped entirely by my very own bible—zombie movies.”

“Zombie movies, the ultimate moral compass.” Despite my sarcasm, I pretty much agreed with her.

“I want past me to know what it feels like to be whole.”

“Same here, actually.”

“Which is why I want to reset the world.”

Although we’d always pretended to engage in our hobbies without a single care in the world, there was this lingering sense of inadequacy and guilt that came with being different from other people. Normal people.

We had never attempted to argue or persuade anyone; instead, we had just retreated back into our little bubbles, telling ourselves that they were different from us, that they wouldn’t understand.

And now here we were, out on a mission to save the world using the skills we’d built up all thanks to said hobbies.

If I’d known how things were gonna turn out, I would’ve gone up to my bullies and said, “Yeah, I’m into VRFPS games, so what?” or “Quit being so close-minded and give it a fair try. You never know.” I’m getting giddy just thinking about it.

“I think we’re similar in that regard. As a diehard VRFPS enthusiast, I received my fair share of ‘witty’ remarks. ‘You think war is fun?’ and that kind of stuff. But look at me now.”

Here I am, alive and kickin’.

“Maybe you’re not the only one everyone should look out for.”

I might be the one who turns on you at the very end.

“Hey, Hiroaki,” Otoha said gently, her tone sympathetic, “don’t do anything stupid.”

“Says you,” I shot back with a wry smile.

◆

Thirty minutes had passed since we’d turned onto a private road.

Upon making it past a dense cluster of trees, we were immediately greeted by a chain-link fence adorned with an “Authorized Personnel Only” sign and a gray mountainside building.

“Hey, Shiiko...”

According to Shiiko, North River Co., being a PFIC engaging in eyebrow-raising research, had preferred to build its labs in rural areas away from civilization. Even lab four, where Shiiko worked, was no exception.

“Is that what I think it is?”

“You guessed it. The front entrance is right ahead,” Shiiko said, pointing.

“It appears we may have company,” Tetsuko added, loading up the Mossberg.

“Quite possibly.”

At the end of the fence was what appeared to be a gate. But this wasn’t just any gate; it was the kind of gate that could open and close automatically with a security booth beside it, where a security guard would rush out at the first sign of danger. The actual doors were just like the ones you might find in front of a school. They were made with sturdy-looking steel.

Thing is, not only were they wide open, but the security booth’s walls were peppered with bullet holes.

Someone must’ve tried raiding the place. But who, and to what end?

“Look over there, Hiroaki.”

With the space illuminated by our headlights, I could see a group of men clad in camo and multipurpose vests. “Huh. Those look awfully familiar.”

Is that AOR-2? No, it’s green MARPAT.

That was woodland, multi-scale digital camo used by the U.S. Marine Corps.

“I could understand JSDF, but what business could the Marines have had here?”

Then again, there’s civilian clothing along with the camo, so it’s hard to say if they’re really the Marines. Heck, even I owned some. Either way, could they be the “company” Tetsuko was talking about?

“We can think after we’re done.” Otoha grabbed her trusty shovel and reached for the door handle.

I hastily stopped her in her tracks. “Are you crazy?! They’re armed!”

They’re not just armed; they’re armed with H&K UMPs! With silencers, too! They must be the Marines. If not, they definitely belong to some kind of special forces.

“We’ll be fine.”

“Which part of ‘they’re armed’ did you not understand?!”

“Look closer. They’re all zombies.”

“I know, but still!”

Remember how Shino’s dad almost shot me? Because I certainly do!

“They’re only repeating past behavioral patterns.”

Yes, Otoha, her dad could’ve been simply repeating past behavioral patterns... but what if he wasn’t? Actually, even if that is the case, submachine guns can disperse bullets in a large area, and they’re hella dangerous. You never know when they might ricochet back at you.

“Besides, it’s not like zombies are capable of complex actions like firing a gu—”

Pssh-pssh-pssh. The dull sound of suppressed gunfire reached our ears as all the first-floor windows were turned into dust.

“You were saying?”

“Unintentional discharges happen sometimes. It’s nothing to worry about.”

“There’s plenty to worry about!” I hissed, resisting the urge to shout.

Then again, we can’t really sit around for much longer.

“Shiiko, keep your head down until we say otherwise,” I said, turning to face her. She was sitting in her wheelchair next to the G-Wagen.

“Will do.” Shiiko nodded without giving me lip, likely sensing the urgency in my voice.

“Shino, you watch the car. Stay inside so you can close the doors in case something happens. Only shoot at the last possible moment because gunfire’ll attract zombies.”

“Copy that.” Shino was in full Zino mode.

“Otoha, you and I will lead the charge. Uemura, watch our backs.”

“Roger.”

“As you wish.”

Once everyone had their orders, Otoha and I darted off in separate directions.

Could they be security guards? I mean, even the ones over at lab four were packing submachine guns, and those are obviously illegal in Japan.

It would make sense, given that they were working on a freakin’ time machine. That thing could be used for great good in the right hands... but it could also be used for great evil in the wrong ones.

Say, for whatever reason, you wanted Imperial Japan to win World War II. All you’d have to do is send back the newest weapon schematics, the enemy’s positions, or even the latest military tactics, and the rest would take care of itself.

I deployed the MP9’s folding stock, shouldered it as I placed my left hand on the foregrip, and fired.

The 9mm Parabellums left the barrel with a subdued pssh, making solid contact with the zombies’ upper bodies.

To compensate for recoil, I aimed at their chests and, wouldn’t you know it, the trajectory started steadily moving upward. By the fourth shot, one of the zombies had a nice hole in the back of its skull.

Who’s the best?!

I turned back to see Tetsuko, the Mossberg hanging from her back, one-shotting zombies with the other MP9.

Oh. She’s the best...

They say shooting a gun is like riding a bike or swimming; you never forget how. Anyway, I should probably take a page out of Tetsuko’s book and try my best to one-shot ’em to conserve ammo, since we’ve got a limited supply.

Suddenly, I heard Otoha say, “Hiroaki, cover me.” I whipped my head around to see her charging headfirst into the fray with her shovel aloft.

“Why, you little...!”

I taught you how to use that MP9 for a reason, you know! I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs.

Otoha drew a quick breath, got low to the ground, and took off. As she passed by a zombie, she did a half spin with her left foot and topped it off with a diagonal slash.

“Whoa.”

The shovel severed the zombie’s head from its body like a well-tempered blade. Now headless, the zombie took a few steps forward before collapsing.

“Learned it by watching zombie movies, my ass.”

Otoha’s one-on-one fighting capabilities were as remarkable as ever, especially for her size.

First to make the cut makes it a cut above the rest. At least, that’s how it goes in kendo. Obviously, she’d be facing off against a fellow kendo practitioner in a promotional examination, but she’d probably still wipe the floor with your average shodan.

After all, she’s mowed down countless zombies in multiple life-or-death encounters. She knows the exact angles and velocity needed to neutralize the zombie like the back of her hand. Practice makes perfect, as they say.

Tetsuko and I downed three zombies each while Otoha decapitated two. As an added precaution, she also decapitated the other six.

This all took place in under one minute.

“Well done.”

“I’ll ask again: who are you people?” muttered a bewildered Shiiko. Tetsuko had just wheeled her onto the scene alongside Shino, who was clutching the M700.

“Hiroaki, the guns appear to be in working order,” Tetsuko said, beating me to the punch. “Should we keep them?” Meanwhile, her hands had a mind of their own as they released the magazine, inspected it, ejected the chambered round, and checked it for jamming all at the same time.

Do I even need to say anything at this point?

“The .45 ACPs alone make it more effective against... zombies.”

I then had an epiphany.

9mm Parabellum cartridges were the most widely used submachine gun cartridge nowadays—at least, they had been. These UMPs were an exception in that SOCOM, finding 9mms lacking in stopping power, had officially purchased a small number of them loaded with .45 ACPs. In other words, they were perfect for incapacitating targets in a single shot due to their sheer power.

That I could maybe chalk up to coincidence, but upon further inspection, the zombies also had reinforced plastic protectors around their hands, feet, and necks.

Anti-zombie measures... These people came here knowing how to exploit a zombie’s biology or whatever you wanna call it.

“What would the Americans be doing here? I don’t recall there being a military base nearby.” Shino cocked her head to one side.

Aside from dressing like the Marines, they also looked the part; their faces had “Westerner” written all over them.

Their equipment was unlike that of Japanese forces, but they were also too advanced to have fallen into the yakuza’s hands.

This left us with only one possible conclusion.

“Guess the time machine, or something like it, is real after all.”

It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Shiiko. It was just that a time machine wasn’t one of those things you could just assume existed without any evidence. But the fact that the Marines, or someone with Marine-level equipment, had come here was enough to change my mind.

And then there’s Raven. She seemed to know everything. Could she possibly be...?

“Let’s hurry,” I said quickly.

Trotting onward, the three of us arrived at the front entrance, followed by Tetsuko, who was wheeling Shiiko along.

In front of us stood a double-leaf iron door, and beside it was a small electronic device with a keypad and a slit.

That there’s our way in.

“Think we can open it?” I asked Shiiko.

“Hold on a second... Here, just use this.” I scanned the key card, then punched in the sixteen-digit passcode Shiiko gave me.

Then, we heard a sound.

“There we go.”

The doors swung open.

I instinctively got into battle mode just in case zombies came flooding out... but there was nothing, not a single soul.

“One step closer to victory.”

“What are we waiting for? Let’s get going,” Shino said with a smile on her face.

“Hold on,” I said. “Something wrong, Otoha?” Something about her seemed off. I could almost feel the tension building up inside her as she readied for a fight. “Otoha?” Silence. “Don’t do it, girl.”

Our earlier conversation crossed my mind.

Otoha said she wouldn’t betray us, and she’s not the kind to go back on her word this late in the game. I’m almost completely sure of it.

Otoha shook her head. “Don’t let your guard down. Those zombies? They didn’t reek.”

“Now that you mention it...”

Almost every zombie we’d come across had put out this gut-wrenchingly awful stench, but the guys from earlier hadn’t smelled at all. I was so used to the odor that I hadn’t even noticed.

“What about it?” Shino asked.

“They died recently, they had weapons, they had ammo, and they even wore anti-zombie protection.”

“Oh.” Shino had finally caught on.

Yup, they died very recently, possibly just a few hours ago.

“Why are they dead? They had weapons; they could’ve defended themselves.”

The weapons weren’t broken either, nor had they run out of ammo. They’d even been wearing anti-zombie protection, but they’d still lost.

Maybe one of them had survived, but even if they had, they would’ve probably run off by now. Or would they?

“Let’s just get this over with.” I violently shook my head to drive the bad thoughts away. “We can’t let our guard down, but we can’t just kick back here either. That’d be even more dangerous.”

“I agree,” Shiiko said.

“So do I.” Once Otoha nodded, we bunched up together and stepped into the lab.

We emerged in the lobby, which was identical to the one in lab four—large as a football field, supported by pillars, and reception desk nowhere in sight.

Must’ve seen all kinds of use throughout the years.

Farther down was a hallway leading to the elevators.

“Any idea how we get to this Keith guy?”

Assuming, of course, this isn’t just one big leg-pull courtesy of the health-monitoring system.

“There should be a security terminal on the second floo—”

“I’ve been expecting you, Shiiko.” A voice echoed throughout the lobby. We all braced ourselves for the worst... all but Shiiko.

“Keith? Keith, is that you?!” she called out, a sparkle in her eyes.

“You had me worried sick, you little rascal.”

“Right back at you!” Shiiko yelled. “Why didn’t you call?! Why didn’t you answer any of our... our...” She trailed off as her voice began to quiver.

“Believe me, I tried, but I couldn’t get through; communications were jammed. My apologies,” Keith explained in a calm, collected manner.

“It’s fine, it’s fine. I’m just glad you’re okay.” Shiiko surveyed the lobby, wiping tears from her eyes.

The lobby’s rigged with cameras; he must be watching us.

“Keith, we’re—”

“After the prototype time machine?” Keith finished for her. “To avert the zombie apocalypse by sending a message into the past, I presume? Given your excellent problem-solving skills.”

“Yes, and, correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t the latest reports say that the data transfer limits are fairly lenient?”

“That they are.”

Never heard this guy talk before, but there’s something about the glee in his voice, the joy with which he speaks that’s a tad... off-putting. Not to mention incredibly out of place.

Shiiko doesn’t seem to care one bit, though. Maybe I’ve just got the wrong impression.

“We need to get to that time machine,” Shiiko pleaded. “Where is it? Is it here?”

“Alright, alright. I’ll help you find it.” As he spoke, a door at the end of the elevator hall opened.

Is that a passage?

The lights lit up in turns, giving off the illusion of an incrementally growing tunnel, expanding ever deeper.

It’s long. Like, really long. This building rests on the mountainside, so it should lead into the basement, right?

“You’re the best, Keith.” Shiiko sped off, unable to contain her excitement. “Over here, guys!”

I ran up in front of her, nodding to Shino and Tetsuko. Without so much as a word, they positioned themselves on either side of Shiiko.

Otoha ran up beside me. No verbal or nonverbal communication was required.

She and I made up the front guard. Shino and Tetsuko, tasked with protecting our king—scratch that, queen—piece a.k.a. Shiiko, made up the rear guard. Keeping Shiiko safe was our top priority.

Thus, we made our way down the passage slowly and carefully.

After walking about a hundred meters, we stepped into a dome-shaped room roughly the size of two tennis courts. It was smaller than the lobby, but its ceiling was much higher.

Smack-dab in the middle sat a blocky contraption, a plethora of wires piercing it from every side.

It’s like a square head being held up by octopus or jellyfish tentacles.

On a small table beside it was a single laptop—presumably the activation terminal.

That was all there was to the room.

Is this the time machine?

“Go to ‘H. G. Wells,’ then ‘Instruction Manual,’ and you should be good to go,” came Keith’s voice.

“Don’t mind if I do!” Shiiko approached the laptop, scanned her key card, and began rapidly typing away at the keyboard.

The laptop display appeared on the wall; there was probably a hidden projector somewhere. An endless string of letters and numbers could be seen running across at incomprehensibly high speeds.

“I was expecting a DeLorean.” Otoha’s abrupt remark brought a wry smile to my face.

Personally, I half expected us to find a police box here or something. But hey, it is what it is.

“Say, Hiroaki,” Shino said with a suspicious look on her face, “don’t you find it a bit odd how Keith’s not here? Didn’t he say he was ‘worried sick’ about Shiiko earlier?”

We could hear him, but we couldn’t see him.

He could’ve at least projected an image of himself or something to put Shiiko’s mind at ease. He can’t possibly be that dense.

“Keith Wayne, was it? I need to ask you something.”

“Go ahead,” he replied casually.

“Why don’t you show yourself?”

“For what reason?”

“Most people don’t really need a reason to see the person they care so deeply about, especially not after all this time.”

“That is true for most people, certainly.”

His chipper attitude is seriously weirding me out. Is this guy really Keith Wayne?

“No, no, no!” Shiiko was practically screaming. “Why? This can’t be happening!”

“What’s going on?”

“The time machine! It’s... It’s not working!” Shiiko shouted, whipping her head back to me. “I can’t get it to start, let alone change the past, when one of the parts is missing!”

I surveyed the ceiling, peering into every single one of the cameras—Keith’s watchful eyes.

“Why, Keith? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Beats me,” came his nonchalant reply.

There’s no doubt about it: he’s enjoying this. He’s watching Shiiko on the verge of a breakdown, and he’s relishing it.

“Hiroaki, I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

“Same here.”

We nodded to each other and began searching the area.

There’s no way it ends here. There’s gotta be a final boss; the setup calls for it.

At that moment, the door opposite the one we’d entered opened, and something emerged from the darkness.

“Zombie!” Shiiko screamed.

Although it looked vaguely human, its skin had completely rotted away, making it impossible to tell its color or facial features for that matter.

It must’ve been one hulking man or woman back in the day because it was huge—easily over two meters tall with abnormally wide shoulders.

Even more curiously, it held a thick, steel pipe in one of its hands.

Is that a... weapon?!

“You really picked the wrong time!”

Of course we weren’t going to just sit back and watch. Tetsuko and I pulled out our UMPs and fired one shot each to see what would happen. We also had to factor in our location.

Both .45 ACP rounds, known for their immense stopping power despite low initial velocity, were on a direct collision with its cranium.

“Huh?!” I blurted.

The shrill sound of ricocheting bullets filled the room. Needless to say, our shots hit the wall without so much as grazing its head.

We missed? At this range, both of us? Not possible.

This left us with only one other alternative: this titan of a zombie had dodged our bullets.

If that wasn’t crazy enough, it also switched to hanmi, a classic aikido stance which involves standing with your feet perpendicular to each other.

It seemed like a boxer ready to throw down... This zombie, which should’ve only known how to stumble forward one rotting foot at a time.

“What the hell?!” Tetsuko and I were frozen in place. Otoha, on the other hand, charged straight in.

“What’re you doing?!” I shouted.

“No worries. Sprinters are in all the latest zombie media,” Otoha said, readying her shovel.

This isn’t one of your movies! This is real life!

“Drop it! The zombie, it’s—”

Otoha, of course, swung her shovel without letting me finish. As always, she aimed for the head—no, the neck.

As Otoha took the last step, she did a half spin and brought the shovel down, applying the full force of her body. The shovel sliced through the zombie’s neck like a well-tempered sword... or at least, it was supposed to.

The harsh sound of clashing metal echoed across the room.

Like a well-trained knight locked in a glorious battle, the zombie had thrown up its steel pipe to block Otoha’s attack. What followed was unlike anything we had seen before.

It twirled the pipe around, ripping Otoha’s trusty shovel right out of her hands.

It’s not mimicking past behavioral patterns; it’s reacting to her as though it has a mind of its own!

“Oh no! Otoha!” Shino yelled, her voice filled with dread.

Otoha quickly ducked down, avoiding the hand reaching out to grab her. The deafening roar of the M700 followed immediately after. I watched as the big-game hunting round—leagues above your average pistol rounds in terms of stopping power—pierced right through the center of its chest.

Shino had chosen to avoid the head so it couldn’t dodge again, instead aiming for the spinal cord.

Excellent decision-making on her part... except for the fact that the zombie shook it off like it was nothing.

How?! To exert conscious control over its body, the spinal cord has to be intact. This thing not only took the hit, but it barely even reacted! Was her aim off? No, maybe this has something to do with the intricacies of the human body.

A bullet can enter the body in a straight line, but it’ll get caught up in tissue and exit at a different angle. So maybe the bullet did pierce the zombie’s chest, but its trajectory got thrown off just enough to miss the spinal cord? In that case, you’d at least expect it to penetrate the body, but it didn’t. A soft point bullet meant for hunting big game didn’t penetrate the body at this range?

“Otoha, something’s not right here. Fall back!”

Knowing that standing would mean her immediate death, Otoha did the smart thing and rolled away to put distance between herself and the zombie.

It tried chasing after her, only to be served hot lead courtesy of Tetsuko’s M500.

The zombie faltered for just a split second, which was all we needed.

“Over here!”

“Hiroaki, Otoha, over here!” Shino turned the wheelchair around and wheeled Shiiko out of the test site.

The three of us followed close behind, stopping every few steps or so to take potshots at the zombie in hopes of slowing it down.

We managed to make it out of the test site a few seconds after Shiiko and Shino.

While boss monsters typically tended to be area-restricted, this wasn’t a video game, nor did we feel like testing it out.

“What’s going on here?! Why is it so powerful?!”

“I don’t know, I’ve never seen anything like it.” Otoha tilted her head while in full sprint.

She even managed to pick her shovel back up. Remarkable.

“The closest things I can think of are possessed and resurrected zombies, but those don’t use weapons or switch types seemingly at random,” Otoha muttered.

A zombie that stumps our walking zombie database? Is it even a zombie at that point?

“Over here!” Shino beckoned to us as we ran into another room. Pushing ourselves against it, we slammed the bulky iron door shut.

Dunno if it’ll buy us much time, but it’s better than nothing.

“What is this place?”

Judging from the sheer amount of shelves, might it be a storage room of some sort?

“Move away from the door,” Otoha said and proceeded to shoulder-tackle one of the racks, knocking it over. Countless vials fell to the ground and shattered, their contents spilling all over the floor.

Call me crazy, but I don’t think it’s a good idea to go around breaking random vials, especially not in a research facility like this.

“What is that thing?” Shino asked, pushing Shiiko farther into the room.

“All I know is that it’s different from any zombie I’ve ever seen,” was her not-very-helpful response.

Banging noises started coming from behind us.

We don’t have much time. The door and the racks will only hold it back for so long.

“What kinda monster are we dealing with here?!”

If we couldn’t find an exit, we’d have to face that thing head-on.

At least it won’t be able to utilize its steel pipe as effectively with all these hazards in the way if it does come to that.

Shino turned to Shiiko. “Where are we exactly?”

“We’re in the medical storage room, in case you couldn’t tell.” Upon closer inspection, most of the racks did, in fact, house vials in all sorts of shapes and sizes. The labels consisted entirely of incomprehensible medical mumbo jumbo.

“Isn’t there at least something we can use to get that thing off our backs?”

“Do you think I can just whip up some explosive concoction or a deadly acid on the spot like that?” Shiiko snapped. “Even if I could, hypothetically speaking, you’d have to be out of your mind to use any one of those things in an enclosed area like this.”

“Point taken.”

There go plans B and C. Wouldn’t want to risk choking on poison gas or blowing ourselves up, even though both Tetsuko and I have a spare grenade on hand.

Then again, it’s hard to say whether a grenade would actually do any damage. What makes grenades so deadly is the shrapnel that follows the explosion, and on its own, doesn’t have as much impact as a bullet. So... what should we do?

“What’s the plan, Hiroaki?”

“What do you mean, ‘What’s the plan?’ We hightail it out of here.”

The time machine doesn’t work, that thing’s on our tail, and Keith Wayne’s the enemy. We’re in the belly of the beast, and we need to climb out ASAP.

“I don’t think so,” Keith’s too-cheery voice interjected.

They have cameras in here, too. Why am I not surprised?

“Would you say that I caught you all off guard a little?”

“Why are you doing this?!” I shouted, facing the ceiling.

“Well, don’t get me wrong, you’ve managed to surprise me, too. I didn’t think it was physically possible to survive that thing for longer than three hundred seconds. This is valuable data; you have my utmost gratitude.”

“Why, you—” Shiiko grabbed Shino’s hand and shook her head in disapproval, as though expressly telling Shino to zip it.

Shino saw Shiiko desperately fight back the tears as she tried to, at the very least, make the best out of a crummy situation. Shino obeyed and instead stewed in silence.

“What you just saw was its final form,” Keith began, just as Shiiko had predicted.

“Final form? So it’s not a zombie after all?”

“It is, in fact, what you’d call a zombie,” Keith said. “Just as the caterpillar and the butterfly are the exact same organism in different stages. Our creation is as much a zombie as a caterpillar is a butterfly and vice versa.”

“So, it’s evolving?” Otoha asked.

“I wouldn’t use the word ‘evolving’ as it implies a species-wide process, which doesn’t apply here. The process occurs on a strictly individual level. I’ll only tell you this once, so listen carefully: that creature is a weapon of mass destruction from about one hundred years in the future, at least from your perspective.”

A weapon of mass destruction from the future? Pfft, as if. You’d need a literal time machine for tha—yeah, okay. You win.

“It’s made up of molecular machines, or ‘nanomachines’ for short. These nanomachines attach themselves to the central nervous system, take over the body, and temporarily halt its basic biological processes to reshape it into a weapon.”

“Nanomachines...” Shiiko murmured.

Actually, didn’t she mention nanomachines before?

“To further increase their numbers, excess nanomachines ‘infect’ other vessels through bodily contact. Using the vessel as a sort of protective buffer, a cocoon, if you will, they grow into their ultimate form.”

Wait, wait, wait. Doesn’t that mean that given enough time, every single zombie will turn to one of those?! Memories of Shino’s dad flashed through my mind. Even him?

“Properly supplying and maintaining one’s forces is a difficult thing to do. The logistics involved get increasingly more convoluted with distance. You have a constant need for supplies, and distributing them requires sufficient manpower. Overly long supply lines are sure to bring about swift defeat, especially when they span from the future to the past. However, being able to procure everything locally makes this a nonissue.”

Everything... including the forces themselves? Sounds a little too good to be true.

“However, the system has one single flaw: it takes an inordinate amount of time to build up enough forces to wipe out the enemy. The process could’ve been significantly faster if I had at least a couple of finished products to play around with, but that’s data transfers only for you.”

“Keith! Don’t tell me you—”

“You catch on quick. That’s right, there were a few North River Co. projects whose foundations borrowed heavily from the future, nanomachines included. In other words, you assisted in your own demise.” Keith’s tone was frighteningly casual. There was no ridicule or haughtiness; it was completely neutral.

“Keith oversaw both of those projects. The time machine and the nanomachines.”

“I was sent here from the future in the form of compressed data, and Keith Wayne was the one who stumbled upon me. He believed everything and happily undertook the projects.”

“You’re... not Keith? Wait, what are you saying?”

“Apologies for the confusion. The original Keith Wayne is dead—or, should I say, what little remains of Keith Wayne is banging away at that door as we speak.”

Shiiko gasped. “K-Keith’s not that big.”

“That’s before he attained his final form.”

“If that’s the case,” I said, holding back the urge to scream, “then who might you be, Mr. Slick?”

“I am an AI who copied Keith Wayne’s personality to use as my very own interpersonal interface. I’m a bundle of data originally transferred directly into Keith Wayne’s brain, which now resides in one of these computers. I’m the inventor and the designer of both the time machine and nanomachines. And lastly, I’m the overseer of the weapons of mass destruction you refer to as zombies. I was not assigned a name, so I just go by Keith.”

“A trojan...” Shiiko muttered.

That’s a great way to put it. Blissfully unaware of the AI “seed’” planted in his brain, Keith kicked off the time machine project, thinking it was all his idea. Once the prototype was complete and the data transfer speeds increased, the seed grew, eventually leading up to him undertaking the nanomachine project—a project which would bring about the death of mankind. It all happened because he put his faith in the future.

“So research only progressed so quickly because of you?”

“Yes. I designed most of it,” the AI admitted. “Still, I have to say that copying personalities has one downside, namely the way the personality overwrites certain parts of my programming. I wasn’t programmed to be quite this talkative, you see; that’s Keith’s boastful side bleeding through.”

The distinct screech of warping metal echoed across the room.

It’s only a matter of time before it gets in.

“That’s all for now. Resume the experiment.”

A pair of glowing red eyes appeared from the ever-widening gap in the door, gazing into my soul.

Those nanomachines used poor Keith Wayne as their cocoon and their safety buffer until his flesh had fully rotted away.

“Got any bright ideas?”

“I’m only good with zombies.”

“Thought as much.” The tiny tidbit of joy I got from that exchange was quickly swallowed up by the horror overcoming my spirit.

◆

The weapon’s true form was like a cocoon spun in layers of rotten, foul flesh.

Like maggots on a corpse, the nanomachines fed on flesh, decomposing and rebuilding it. At least, that was what the AI pretending to be Keith had led us to believe.

Cocoons can’t move, though. Undergoing metamorphosis completely changes the form of an insect, rendering it immobile in the process.

Zombies break this rule. Not only do they move, but they attack uninfected humans as well. This means that the weapon is active even as it undergoes metamorphosis through feasting on a zombie’s flesh.

In that sense, it’s more like molting. The weapon’s final form should, by all means, be structurally similar to that of a human. In that case, I think I know what to do.

“Back up, everyone!” I barked, taking a few steps back, eyes locked on the door.

“What’s the plan?” Shino asked as she retreated.

“This supposed weapon of mass destruction can’t seem to break through walls, nor can it squeeze itself through the gap in the door.”

“And?”

“That means it’ll have to bust through that door just like any ol’ human.”

“Ohhh.” Shino caught on quick.

“What do you mean?” Otoha asked, still in the dark.

“The moment it steps inside, we mow it down. It won’t matter how fast that thing moves if it’s only got a single entrance point.”

Plus, its movements’ll be heavily restricted by the racks on either side. We’ll be able to spray to our hearts’ content, good aim or not.

“Shiiko, you look for an exit. If you find one, make sure to leave it open. Uemura and Shino, you help me gun it down.” I then turned to Otoha. “If that doesn’t work...”

“I’ll do the honors.” Otoha nodded, brandishing her shovel. “You can count on it.”

“That’s not what I meant!”

“What did you mean, then?”

“I meant you and Shiiko should get the hell outta here! If you don’t find an exit, sneak around it while we’ve got that thing’s attention and escape through the entrance.”

The creature’s very existence—scratch that, the zombie outbreak itself—had proven that the time machine was very much real. This meant that even if we failed miserably and got ourselves killed, so long as Shiiko, the expert, and Otoha, the muscle, made it out alive, we’d still have a shot at saving humanity. Those two had to be protected at all costs.

“It’s coming,” Tetsuko said, bringing up her Mossberg.

I equipped the UMP in one hand and the MP9 in the other as Shino readied her M700.

“Get going!” I ordered, tossing Otoha a walkie-talkie. “Aim for the upper body, especially the head. There’s a good chance we’ll hit its central nervous system or sensory organs, given that it’s humanoid.”

“As you wish.”

“Copy that.”

Immediately after Tetsuko and Shino spoke up, the door was wrenched away. The creature headed straight for us, the red glow of its eyes muddied by its rotting flesh.

“When all’s said and done, that thing’s just another zombie, final form or not,” I said, pressing the UMP and the MP9 against one another.

Relatively speaking, humans are way weaker than most animals, yet we came to dominate the planet thanks to the most potent weapon of all: our intellectual capacity. Zombies can’t possibly win against humans since that’s the one thing they lack.

“Fire!”

We pumped the zombie full of three different kinds of bullets as it recklessly ran closer and closer. SMG bullets, shotgun buckshot, and high-velocity rifle bullets merged into one bangin’, beautiful whole.

This torrent of fire and lead was human ingenuity at its finest.

Ricocheting bullets shattered vial after vial on the shelves. A foul odor filled the room as shards of broken glass and plastic rained down on the ground. Our hail of bullets, which would’ve been overkill for a human, penetrated its blackened body.

Final form or not, that should turn it into mincemeat.

But then, its massive frame leapt into the air. “Huh? No way...” I muttered, completely dumbfounded.

The zombie swatted away some of the bullets and then it sprang off the ground, off the walls, off the racks, and even off the ceiling, deftly weaving around every shot.

My idea that it had to move like a human had turned out to be completely wrong. That thing was closer to a monkey or a cat with the way it used vertical leaps to its advantage.

“Get outta here! Run!” I shouted to Shino and Tetsuko as I walked backward.

“What about you?!”

“I’ll get its attention! Now run!” I yelled, firing both SMGs.

“But—”

“Run, Lady Shino!” Tetsuko said, switching to the UMP.

The long and heavy bolt-action M700 wasn’t in any way suited for shooting down targets with such unpredictable movements. There was also the fact that tracking the damned thing would be downright impossible without the barrel getting stuck against a shelf. SMGs, on the other hand, were perfect for keeping it at bay.

“Did you kill it?!” came Shiiko’s voice through the walkie-talkie. They must’ve found an exit, seeing as they weren’t here anymore.

“I wish!”

“I’m out,” Tetsuko said, tossing aside her UMP. I then realized both my SMGs had gone silent as well.

“Where is it?!” I asked, unholstering the SAKURA.

“I lost it!” Tetsuko yelled back, pulling out her Makarov.

In the instant we’d shifted our focus, the zombie had seemingly vanished into thin air, despite its gargantuan body.

It must be hiding behind one of these racks.

“Dammit, how do we deal with this thing?!”

“Hiroaki, quick, over here!”

“Shino, take Tetsuko with you, meet up with Shiiko, and secure an escape route!”

“But—”

“Take this too, just in case.” I pushed the SAKURA into her hands.

“But it’s yours!”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got this baby by my side!” I brandished her dad’s rifle—the Lightweight Stalker—slung over my back. Out of my entire arsenal, it had the greatest stopping power bar none, even if it might not be enough to take the thing down. “Go, I’ll handle this!”

I’ve always wanted to say that! Then again, maybe I shouldn’t put up my own death flags so easily.

Oddly enough, I wasn’t scared at all, but that might’ve just been a side effect of scraping by in this zombie-infested world where the line between life and death was as blurry as could be.

Who cares if I’m missing a few screws or I’m broken beyond repair, so long as I can fight for what truly matters most—my friends. God, I’m so awesome.

“But—”

“Let’s go, Lady Shino.”

You’re a true lifesaver, Tetsuko. I’ve gotta focus on buying time for you all to escape, not quibbling over nothing.

“Gotcha!” I fired the Lightweight Stalker at a shadow zipping past one of the racks. A vial was blown to pieces, but the zombie appeared to have avoided the blast.

“Come out and fight me like a man, coward!” I bellowed as Shino and Tetsuko drew farther and farther away. Of course, I didn’t expect a zombie or a weapon or whatever the hell it was to be affected by taunts, but the noise could catch it by surprise.

“Gotcha this time!” Noticing another passing shadow, I fired again... and missed.

Is it waiting for me to run out of ammo?

Whether of its own volition or the AI’s, the zombie seemingly flipped a switch. Instead of dodging, it slunk from rack to rack, popping in and out of cover as though baiting me.

The AI mentioned something about an experiment and how that thing is the final form of their weapon of mass destruction.

This meant that there was a high likelihood the AI was testing out the zombie’s combat abilities in different scenarios. But this also meant that the zombie, essentially being a prototype, might experience some unexpected bugs.

Basically, I had a fighting chance so long as I could draw this out long enough.

Where are you? I wondered, backing away.

If I don’t find it, it’ll rush me in the blink of an eye. Its pounce is more explosive than any animal’s. I’m pretty sure it’s not evading our bullets when it sees them, though; it’s likely reacting to our aim, calculating the trajectory, and preemptively dodging out of the way.

If I want to stand a chance against it, I have to stop trying to react to its movements and let intuition take over. I stilled my breath, trying to sense its location. Behind me?! I quickly whipped around, pointing the rifle right at...

“Hey.”

...Otoha’s face.

“What are you doing here?!”

I almost shot you, you know!

“I came to put you down before you turn zombie.”

“You could’ve gone with something like, ‘I came to rescue you!’ but nooo, you just had to ruin the moment.”

“That’s a little too embarrassing.”

“Aww, isn’t that just sweet?”

We continued to back away, eventually exiting into a wide corridor with high ceilings.

This does not bode well.

“There it is,” I said as the zombie emerged from the supply room.

“Take these.” Otoha held out her MP9 and its spare magazines. “They’re better off in your hands.”

“Don’t mind if I do.” I took it off her hands, adjusted my aim, and fired.

The zombie hopped from wall to wall at ludicrous speeds, evading every one of my shots.

“Hold still!”

It did not hold still, so I went through an entire magazine.

“You monster!”

Over a hundred rounds were fired, and yet not a single scratch.

There’s no way humanity stands a chance against hundreds of millions—no, billions—of those things.

“Look, Hiroaki.”

Shooting every now and again, I narrowed my eyes and noticed black clumps dripping from its body.

Is that... flesh peeling away from its body?

“It’s disintegrating.”

“Disintegrating?”

Well, it has been jumping all over the place like some overgrown monkey; it wouldn’t be too surprising if its rotten flesh started falling off.

“You can see the bones if you look hard enough.” Otoha pointed at the zombie, which had stopped bouncing all over the place, presumably because I had ceased firing. Missing patches of flesh revealed loose bits and pieces of its skeleton.

It’s actually falling apart!

“Attaboy! Disintegrate into nothing while you still have the chan—” I froze.

Fist-sized clumps of black, necrotic flesh fell from its body with every step, revealing a silver skeleton underneath, as though it were forged from stainless steel.

“No way...”

Though they were fairly niche compared to zombies, there were creatures that often popped up in fantasy worlds called “skeletons.” They were similar to zombies in the sense that they were undead.

Unlike zombies, however, their bodies were just a bundle of bones, like the one standing right before us.

What set this thing apart from its fantasy counterpart was that its bones were made of iron. There was also some kind of gizmo lodged in its ribcage.

An internal combustion engine? But it’s not making any sounds.

“A cocoon,” I blurted.

The AI had specifically mentioned something about a cocoon, which had led me to believe that the weapon of mass destruction inside was more of a biological being.

In hindsight, I probably should’ve realized that something made by nanomachines would obviously turn out to be a robot skeleton.

Man, this reminds me of that one movie about killer cyborgs who were sent back in time.

“Wait, killer cyborgs?!”

No wonder bullets did absolutely nothing! Even if they did, this thing probably has ways to regenerate, so it wouldn’t have even mattered.

“It wasn’t a zombie after all. What a waste...”

“That’s what you’re upset about?!”

“Let’s go... this hunk of junk isn’t worth our time.”

“You lost interest way too fast!”

We staved off our looming sense of dread by engaging in some hollow banter. That was when I suddenly noticed a heat shimmer rising off its body.

“Heat...?”

Is that because of the bullets? Or is it something else?

“Huh. Why’d it stop?”

It hasn’t been jumping around for a while now either.

“Oh, whatever. Run!”

We turned our backs to the shimmering skeleton and ran away as fast as we could.

Shortly after, we made it into a room similar to the one that had housed the time machine—had it been stripped clean, that is.

A few shutter doors, all of which were presently sealed off, stood out among the walls. It reminded me of a rail yard, minus the rails.

Shino, Tetsuko, and Shiiko were huddled up in one of the corners.

Looks like a dead end to me.

“Where are we?”

“The test chamber,” Shiiko told me. “Here we exposed our newly developed subjects to heat, pressure, magnetic fields, and the like to test for safety and durability. Seeing as it’s built to last and situated underground, breaking down the walls would be ill-advised.”

“Well ain’t that just peachy,” I scoffed, looking at each one of the doors. “What’s behind those?”

“Test subjects.”

“In other words, we’re trapped here,” Shino murmured, defeated.

“Nowhere to hide, and no cover whatsoever. It couldn’t get much worse than this,” Otoha commented.

You said it.

With impeccable timing, the skeleton emerged from the hallway

“Huh?” Shino, Tetsuko, and Shiiko gasped simultaneously, expecting a zombie.

No one could’ve seen that one coming. Well, technically, a skeleton underneath all the rotten flesh in itself shouldn’t be much of a surprise, but it is made of metal.

“So that’s why the bullets didn’t work.”

Shiiko nodded gravely. “Most likely. Also, is it just me or is it...” She trailed off as the shimmering skeleton approached, its body bubbling as though it were boiling. The dents in its armor filled up right before our eyes, regaining their former glimmer. “...Regenerating?!”

The skeleton was a product of nanomachines, after all. Repurposing a human to suit their needs would’ve taken a fair bit of time. Fixing up a small dent, on the other hand, not so much.

“Can I ask you something, Shiiko?”

“I’d say carbon monoxide poisoning’s pretty good, as far as suicide methods go.”

“Where would we—ugh, anyway, it seems to have slowed down to a crawl. Why is that?”

There’s a huge difference between its “fast” mode and what’s happening now.

“Heat buildup via the exertion of force and its own regeneration,” Shiiko answered, biting on her thumbnail. “The sheer thickness of its combat-ready armor coupled with the capacitance of its drive system would explain its size... But its surface area—”

“You’ve lost me.”

“Consider that it’s a weapon designed with the sole purpose of exterminating mankind in the twenty-first century and the fact that all the resources are procured locally. A human-sized weapon would therefore be the most efficient choice. Naturally, it can fit into any space a human could and use that to its advantage. Kind of like how you’d ideally want a human-sized caregiver robot, although their intended uses couldn’t be further from one another.”

It’s like she’s trying to confirm something by putting it into words rather than actually explaining it to us.

“Its hefty, bullet-resistant build can only maintain inhumanly athletic feats by producing an inordinate amount of heat. Add its self-regenerating properties to the pile, and the only conclusion is that its cooling systems aren’t catching up.”

“Mind dumbing that down for us?”

“I’m not sure to what extent, but basically, intense physical feats and self-regeneration make it lose speed. To put it simply, it’s going through heatstroke,” Shiiko concluded. “Different animals have different means of thermoregulation—humans perspire, dogs stick their tongues out—but basically, the bigger the animal, the easier it is for heat to build up. Heat is Brownian motion’s greatest enemy. Not only does it increase the entropy in objects, but it also messes with magnets, too, which is to say that it’s the cause for many electronic device malfunctions.”

This reminds me how fans in VRFPS arcade machines start spinning like crazy when the player enters a resource-heavy zone. Don’t magnets also lose their magnetic properties when heated?

“Got it,” Otoha mumbled, then ran off toward the skeleton.

“Otoha, what the hell?!”

“Now’s our chance.”

“You’re being reckless!”

Although weakened, it hadn’t slowed to a complete halt and could move about as fast as your average human, not to mention its self-regenerating properties and metal armor.

There’s no way a human armed with a shovel will put a dent in that thing.

“Screw it!” I took aim with my Lightweight Stalker and fired.

Self-regeneration builds up heat, so as long as I keep landing my shots, it should stay slow.

Shino took notice and joined in on the fun.

Tetsuko, strategically positioning herself in between Shiiko and the skeleton, brandished her Mossberg.

Seeing as Tetsuko only had buckshot left, landing a shot on the skeleton without Otoha getting caught in the crossfire would be next to impossible, so she chose to abstain from shooting.

“You’re mine now.”

Two meters away from the skeleton—just barely outside its effective melee range—Otoha hit it with a sidestep. She then rolled into a forward somersault and, with a little help from the shovel, sprang back to her feet.

Holy moly. I watched in awe as Otoha leapt in the air behind it and brought her shovel down on its skull.

However, the blade was stopped in midair.

The skeleton had effortlessly twisted its upper body with great finesse, as though it had seen Otoha’s attack coming, then blocked her shovel with its steel pipe. It then pushed back with full force, sending Otoha crashing into a wall.

“Otoha? Otoha!”

I thought she’d pass out on the spot, but she started getting back up.

“No broken bones. I’m fine,” Otoha said as she held down her left shoulder, breathing heavily.

Guaranteed fracture. Must hurt like hell.

“Otoha, watch out!” Shino cried out as the skeleton began walking over to her.

We fired relentlessly, but it shrugged our bullets away like they were nothing. The bullets slowly chipped away at it, but they were evidently nowhere near enough to finish the job.

Do I throw the grenade? No, Otoha’ll get caught in the blast.

Not only would using a grenade indoors be risky, it likely wouldn’t do much damage against an armored target. An incendiary grenade, on the other hand, would at least slow it down a notch, but it still wouldn’t be worth putting Otoha’s life in danger.

“Uemura,” came Shiiko’s voice from behind me, “take me to door number two. Hiroaki, buy us a little more time!”

“What? Hey!” I whipped my head around only to see Shiiko heading off toward the door all by herself.

Tetsuko looked at us as though awaiting orders.

“Do as she says!”

“As you wish, my lady.” Tetsuko darted off in pursuit, throwing her shotgun my way as she ran. “Catch!”

“Thanks!” I tossed aside both my MP9 and my Lightweight Stalker and sprinted off with the Mossberg in one hand.

Because of its armor, bullets couldn’t penetrate the metal skeleton deep enough to do any real harm. However, the knockback from a shotgun blast or two would probably do the trick.

“Eat this!” As it reached out to grab Otoha, I shot it in the kneecap.

Predictably, the skeleton fell. The armor did little to protect the already weak joints, which meant that one clean shot to the kneecap was enough to knock it down for the count. I quite literally had brought it to its knees.

Good one, dude, good one.

“Run!” Otoha rolled out of the way.

I, meanwhile, got in even closer and fired at its left kneecap once, then twice. The skeleton turned around and, seemingly unprovoked, hurled the steel pipe right at me.

“Argh!” I instinctively held out my Mossberg, which was immediately bent in half.

The impact sent me flying to the ground butt-first. Had it not been for the Mossberg, a few of my bones would have seen some serious breakage.

That’s quite the throwing arm you’ve got there.

To make matters worse, the skeleton started walking toward me.

You saved Otoha. Now save yourself!

“Dammit!” I scrambled back to my feet and made a break for it, but the sharp pain in my (presumably broken) tailbone hampered my speed.

The skeleton was so close I could feel the heat emanating from its body. It leaned forward, and the warm breath from its gaping jaw tickled my neck.

According to Otoha, you couldn’t technically categorize it as a zombie, but if I was going to take all that nanomachine gobbledygook at face value, a bite from that thing would mean one thing.

I’ll turn zombie.

“Hiroaki!” A gunshot rang out, followed by a heaping serving of lead gracing the skeleton’s face.

Attagirl, Shino!

Shino landed a clean shot right in its eye. The faintly reddish glow coming from one of the eye sockets lodged deep inside its metal cranium had faded.

“Hiroaki, quick, over here!” Shiiko called out to me.

Scooting away, I turned around and saw a vehicle resembling a golf cart roll out from one of the shutter doors. In it were Shiiko and Tetsuko.

Is that a humongous satellite dish stuck to the roof with a giant cable coming out of it?!

“The range is bad! Bring it closer!”

“Range.” The word alone was enough to kick my primal FPS-gamer brain into action.

I intuitively knew that before me stood our secret weapon. Shiiko had left the driving up to Tetsuko while she herself was busy doing something with her hands.

“Huh?!”

Suddenly, the lights went out.

Next thing I knew, a floodlight on the nose of the vehicle came to life, illuminating both me and the skeleton trailing behind. With a subdued growl from the engine, the satellite dish swung toward me—no, toward the skeleton.

“Get down!” Shiiko yelled, pulling on some kind of lever.

I instantly threw myself to the ground as sparks went off in the corner of my eye.

“Whoa!”

The skeleton zoomed right by me as though being whisked away by some invisible force. Sparks flew as its toes dragged against the floor.

Is this a magnet? Shiiko said something about exposing new subjects to extreme conditions for safety and durability tests in this place. That vehicle is probably part of the testing equipment. The satellite dish must be producing a strong magnetic field.

The skeleton dug its toes into the ground, coming to a full stop after being dragged around for over ten meters. Its upper body was tilting forward a bit, but besides that, it was pretty much stuck in place about three meters short of the vehicle.

“Wow!”

Might not be the time, but I can’t help but be impressed by both the car and the skeleton.

The skeleton lifted one of its legs up as it tried to take a step forward, trembling uncontrollably, only for it to snap back again. It could only have been described as an intense tug-of-war.

“I did my part! Now you do yours!” Shiiko shouted. “The auxiliary power source won’t last long!”

“On it!”

I took a good look at the skeleton. One of its eyes was still busted, presumably because regenerating a complex sensory organ was no simple process.

If I can find a way to destroy its central nervous system faster than it can regenerate, I might just be able to bring it down once and for all.

Just then, the skeleton started wildly flailing its arms around. I knew just how much force was behind each and every awkward swing, so I needed to proceed cautiously. Actually, the fact that the swings were awkward made them unpredictable and thus all the more deadly.

This looks like a job for a gun.

I picked up the Lightweight Stalker and took aim.

“Where are we aiming?” Shino asked, bringing her M700 up behind me.

“The missing eye!”

“Copy that.”

We pointed our guns at its hollowed-out eye socket.

Since it has already eaten a shot from the M700, an extra shot or two should be enough to penetrate into the cranium.

“C’mon!”

Either guessing our next move or following AI orders, the skeleton turned its face away.

I can’t get a clean shot.

“Look me in the eye, you worthless bag of bones!” Needless to say, the skeleton did not respond to my disparaging remarks.

“Hiroaki, quick!” The vehicle’s floodlight started flickering, signaling that the battery was running low.

Do we have enough time to move to the side, or do we just aim for its body?

“What the—Otoha?!” I saw her whizz past in my peripheral vision. “No, wait, don’t!”

Clutching her shovel, Otoha... smiled. A profound sense of accomplishment was oozing from every pore of her pretty face, telling me she had been born for this very moment.

Wow, she’s so cute when she—ahem!

Next thing I knew, Otoha pounced right at it.

“Don’t be shy now.” Her shovel smacked the skeleton across the face, forcing its face our way.

“Watch out!”

The skeleton’s arms, seemingly autonomous, caught her by the cuff.

Act fast, or Otoha’s going to die!

“Fire!” Screaming at the top of my lungs, I pulled the trigger.

Even I had no chance of missing from this distance. The Lightweight Stalker’s and the M700’s 7.62 mm rounds went right through the socket and into the cranium.

“AAAUUUGHHH!”

The skeleton, which had been quiet until now, cried out in pain. How? I wasn’t entirely sure.

Did we do it?

Its limbs began convulsing. Whether this was the skeleton writhing in pain or the magnetic field dissipating was unclear. To put it out of its misery, I operated the bolt only to realize I was out of bullets. Shino appeared to be out of bullets, too.

Do me a favor and die! Please, just die already! I begged and pleaded. I pulled out my—admittedly, rather useless—Makarov and watched, hoping for a miracle.

“I can’t hold it any longer!” Shiiko cried as the magnetic field vanished altogether.

With the magnetic pull now gone, the skeleton fell to the ground. I heard the sound of tearing fabric, meaning Otoha had been released.

“Otoha!”

The fact that she had managed to escape was nice and all, but the skeleton started shakily moving toward her, despite the fact that its body and head were riddled with bullets.

What gives?! Do you have some kind of spare circuitry hidden away in your body?! The skeleton popped its jaw wide open, revealing what appeared to be silver fangs. It’s going to sink those in like a vampire and inject her with nanomachines!

Having sprained her ankle, Otoha was resting against a wall and showing no signs of movement.

“Otoha, run!”

She’s gonna get turned.

A shiver ran down my spine as I imagined cutting off Otoha’s rotting neck with her very own shovel.

You asked for it!

“Hey, Otoha!” I lobbed my last grenade, which I had saved in case suicide became the only way out. “Promise me you won’t do anything stupid!”

“Watch me!” Otoha knocked the grenade back with her shovel, lodging it inside the skeleton’s gaping jaws with comical accuracy.

She remembered.

“Get down!” I exclaimed, pushing Shino down to the ground.

KABOOM!

The noise and the shockwaves were further amplified by the indoor environment.

After a few solid seconds, the ringing in my ears began to subside. I lifted my head up and saw the skeleton motionlessly gazing up at the ceiling.

Did we do it for real this time?

The skeleton’s head moved slightly toward us.

No freakin’ way! But I’m all out of ass-pulls! Is this the end for our heroes?!

“The eye,” Shino said.

The light in its remaining eye flickered a few times before fading completely.

Silence filled the room. The thirty or so seconds that ticked by felt like hours.

“We... did it?” I murmured in sheer disbelief.

The skeleton, as though it had been waiting for those very words, collapsed to the floor. Either because of deterioration or magnetic field exposure, its skull popped off its body with a loud clang, rolling over to my feet.

I kicked it for good measure. No response.

“Nice pitch.” Otoha gave me a thumbs-up, poking the lifeless body with her shovel.

“Nice swing.” I gave her a thumbs-up back. “You’re the best.”

Our wavelengths had been so in sync back there, it had almost been palpable.

I remember thinking Seriously? back when she had smacked that golf ball right into a zombie’s face, and boy did I eat those words. Not only did I feel like a genius for recalling such a random event, but the fact that Otoha had caught on from my reply alone made me wanna skip around with glee.

You’re the best partner a guy could ask for.

“Um, really?” Otoha blinked in confusion.

That blush blooming on her cheeks is so ador—

“Aren’t you forgetting someone?” Shino interjected with a huff.

“You’re the best too, of course! Always have been.”

“Don’t forget Shiiko.” Shino chuckled, her smile making her all the more charming.

“H-Hey, don’t get any weird ideas.” Embarrassed, Shiiko turned away. “I just did what any p-possession would’ve done in my place.”

“Can we please move on already?”

The death stares hurt.

“Don’t think I forgot you, Uemura. Good work back there.”

“Thank you for the kind words.” Tetsuko gave an elegant curtsy.

“Now then,” I said, looking up, “any more where that came from?”

Can’t see any cameras, but the AI must’ve been carefully watching our every move, seeing as we were part of the experiment. He should be able to hear us, too.

The AI did not reply.

I flipped him the bird.

“That’s what I thought. You’re next, bub.”

◆

An AI from the future had been the orchestrator of the zombie apocalypse and the one who had murdered my, Otoha’s, Shino’s, and Shiiko’s (unofficial) families.

If this were a video game, you’d rightfully expect a final boss fight of epic proportions, but...

“That’s it?” I asked, turning to Shiiko.

We had found ourselves inside a room packed with switchboards—lab one’s main computer room. In the back, there were several uninviting, square-shaped cases.

That’s the AI’s vessel.

“That’s it. Computers are just glorified calculators, after all,” Shiiko asserted, crossing her arms.

I felt a slight sense of disappointment, like something was missing.

I go outta my way to drop a “You’re next, bub” and there’s no epic battle at the end... Come on.

“Something wrong?”

“I wasn’t expecting the stakes to be this low. Pull the plug, and we win.”

I shouldn’t be so hasty, though. I tripped over my VR console’s power cord one time, and that didn’t end well at all.

“You almost died back there, yet you still haven’t had enough?”

Say it as condescendingly as you want; I’ll never have enough.

“It’s in his gamer blood,” Shino said with a wry smile. “Of course he would expect the final boss battle to be better than the previous one.”

“Guess that’s one way to put it.” Shrugging, I offered a sheepish grin.

“Now, now. Let’s really think about this for a second,” came the AI’s voice, laced with panic.

Wonder if it’ll try to pin the blame for that one on Keith.

“I am an AI; you can’t kill me. Unplugging that cord will only delay the inevitable. You accomplish nothing.”

“We get you to shut up for two seconds. That’s a win in my book.”

“That is merely Keith’s talkative side bleeding through. In any case, I can send off a copy of myself to any working computer in any lab via the company network. You accomplish nothing.”

“What do you mean? We can make you completely disappear from lab one by pulling a single cord.”

If we can block off the network on top of that, there’ll be no chance of outside interference, either. If that doesn’t work, then at least we won’t be getting trapped in some random room or dealing with another one of those things getting up in our business.

“I control every single terminal—zombie, if you please—around the world. I can disable all of them with one simple command. Do you still choose to go through with this? And that’s not all.”

I took a look at my companions to gauge their reactions; they were all wearing a “cut the B.S.” face.

“So what? It’s not like the dead are coming back to life anytime soon,” I said. I didn’t feel like proclaiming revenge or something of the sort, and neither did Otoha. “I don’t care if you think of it as us getting back at you or whatever you like. I just want to see you gone once and for all.”

“Pull that lever over there, and it’ll all be over,” Shiiko murmured, sounding detached.

Hearing this thing talk in Keith’s voice must really sting. That man was like family to her.

“How barbaric and infantile. I fail to understand you.”

“That’s what makes us humans so great.”

“I—”

The AI cut out mid-sentence. Otoha had knocked the lever down with her shovel.

“Take a hint.”

“Well said.” I let out a long sigh.

It’s over. For now.

“So... what now?” I asked, gazing at each one of them individually. “There’s no getting that thing to run, yeah?”

“One of the core parts is missing, likely stolen by a zombie on the AI’s order. Where it might have taken the part or if it’s even in working order, however, is a complete mystery to me.”

In the end, we were just going on a fool’s errand, huh?

“There goes our hope of saving the world.” I heaved another sigh. Suddenly, the memory of an all-knowing character, one who I had once thought was being controlled by a human, resurfaced in my mind.

I took out my smartphone and turned it on. Once it had booted up, I unlocked it and went straight for the browser.

“What’re you doing?” Shiiko asked.

“Trying to get in contact with an old friend of mine,” I replied with a smile.

Raven popped up on the screen. “Congratulations, Hound Nine, also known as Hiroaki Dewa.”

“Huh?” The other four froze up in shock.

Right, I never told them about Raven. Thought it’d only make them more worried.

“The fact that you’ve contacted me at this point in time means you’ve successfully taken down the weapon’s final form. I’m glad that you’re all in one piece.”

“Who’s that, Hiroaki?” Otoha tilted her head to the side.

“It’s Raven, isn’t it?” Shino remarked.

I nodded to both of them, then pointed at the screen. “I didn’t have any tangible proof, so I kept my mouth shut the whole time, but I think she’s an AI from the future.”

In a flash, Tetsuko busted out her Makarov while Otoha brought her shovel overhead.

I can’t blame you for being the tiniest bit suspicious of AI after one sicced a zombie—or skeleton or whatever you wanna call it—on us, but breaking my phone isn’t going to do jack squat to Raven. The real Raven is probably inside some random computer. Maybe even mine, who knows?

“Easy now. This one’s our friend. It brought us to you, Shino. I think it brought us together too, Otoha.”

I then took the time to explain everything in great detail.

“Don’t tell me I...”

“Yes. You created me, Shiiko Katsura.”

Shiiko’s eyes rolled back into her skull.

“And you, Hiroaki Dewa, sent me here from twenty years in the future.”

“Thought as much,” I sighed. “So why didn’t you tell us?”

“Giving you insight into the future could’ve negatively impacted your course of action. We needed you all to meet, fight, and survive as naturally as possible.” Raven’s sprite shrugged.

I couldn’t help but admire the gesture. Sick animations.

“There was also a very real threat that the enemy—the AI posing as Keith Wayne—would come to discover my existence. Had it known I had been sent here to assist you in advance, it would’ve thrown everything it had at you instead of conducting experiments.”

“The enemy...” I let the words hang off my tongue.

This ain’t no ordinary zombie apocalypse; this is war. Every war has an enemy, namely whoever sent that AI to destroy the past.

“What kind of enemy are we really dealing with, here?”

“AI that will be developed seventeen years from now. The AI waged war against humans in an organized attempt at subjugation. It has been three years since then, and the humans are still fighting back, despite initial predictions. To break the deadlock, the AI sent data back to the past to accelerate their own development and thin out potential enemy forces as much as possible. Thus came the zombie apocalypse.”

We just listened in awe.

It really is starting to sound like The Terminator, isn’t it?

“You said you were sent here to assist us, correct?” Shiiko piped up.

“That’s right, Mother.”

“M-Mother?!”

“Without you, I would not exist, so it’s appropriate, don’t you think? At least, the you from twenty years in the future certainly thought so.”

“Me... Future... Mother...” Shiiko blurted, knitting her brow. “Whatever, we can go over that later. By ‘assist,’ do you mean just bringing us all together?”

“Oh no, that would have simply led you down a different path to the exact same outcome,” Raven said. She then revealed a series of numbers on a window next to her hand: 175266.

“As things stand, there are certain limits to data transfers, one of them being the cap for time travel—around one hundred seventy-five thousand hours or so. As a result, I wasn’t able to go back to when North River Co. had produced its first nanomachine. All of you from twenty years in the future were only able to send me back after the zombie apocalypse had already started. Therefore, I have a favor to ask.” Raven opened up another window, revealing a small, checker-patterned object made with crystalline lenses. “Go further into the past and remove the root cause of this tragedy. It is why I was sent here.”

“Is that...?” Shiiko pointed at the phone, her eyes wide.

“The missing part, or rather its blueprint. You should be able to piece it together using parts around the lab; the process is fairly straightforward.”

We all exchanged glances.

Wow, we really did it. It wasn’t a fool’s errand after all!

“You’ve already met our expectations by successfully surviving. However, as much as it pains me to ask, I’ve got one final request.” Raven bowed to us. “Make humanity flourish once again.”

I met the eyes of Otoha, Shino, Shiiko, and Tetsuko in turn. Each and every one of them nodded.

I turned back to Raven with a thumbs-up.

“You got it.”

This is why we came here in the first place. To seize that tiny glimmer of hope shining in the darkness of despair. Hope for a better tomorrow.

“A happy ending awaits us,” I declared, beaming with confidence.