Lakefront Night (6), Santa Margarita Lake

“To the unidentified armed personnel! You are currently attacking the United States Army! Drop your weapons and come out! If you surrender, I promise lenient treatment!”

A clear voice sliced through the rain. Yet, from the forest beyond the hostile gap, there was still no response. Was it a result of suppressive fire? No. In the direction in which he had been keeping watch, Gyeo-ul spotted a crimson outline. The infrared sensor of his night vision goggles picked up a heat source, about the temperature of the human body. Only part of an arm was slightly visible. It appeared as if the person was leaning behind a tree.

It couldn’t be ruled out that they were Mexican refugees who had crossed the border, or perhaps law enforcement or military personnel. Maybe even an English-illiterate American. Could it possibly be a mutant infected that had acquired an automatic weapon? No, that seemed unlikely. In every episode he had experienced so far, such a case had never happened. Even if the 「After the Apocalypse」 universe had been revised, the same rules would apply. The mutants had, until now, barely managed to handle melee weapons.

Having thought this far, Gyeo-ul shouted out again.

“¡Ríndete! y serás tratado justamente! no tienes salida!”

To avoid waste, he issued the warning from memory, relying on his own recollection rather than any technical correction.

At last, the heat source began to move. Leaning only the upper body out from beside the tree, they seemed to be carefully scouting this way. The figure was blurred in a vermillion hue, but there were still shadows—enough, even at a distance, for him to distinguish body shape, facial features, and basic attire. At the very least, not a soldier.

“Who are you?! State your affiliation and identification!”

Despite a weary, roughened tone, it was still a woman’s voice. And in English, too. Gyeo-ul sensed distrust, anxiety, and extreme exhaustion. He complied with her demand.

“I am First Lieutenant Han Gyeo-ul, currently assigned to the 160th Regiment of the 79th Regimental Combat Team, Fort Roberts, under the Quarantine Line Command! It seems there was a misunderstanding, but for now, lay down your weapons and come out! I assure you both will be safe!”

“…… Damn it, how can I believe that!”

Gyeo-ul deliberately responded forcefully.

“You’ll have to trust me! If you don’t surrender, I’ll blow you away with a rocket!”

It wasn’t a bluff. A soldier with a launcher was standing by, waiting for his command.

After a brief silence, a new voice appeared. This time, a male voice.

“All right! Let’s do this! I’ll come out alone first! I want to see your faces!”

It was an odd condition. Why faces, specifically? Gyeo-ul swiftly considered the possibilities.

‘Visibility has been sufficient. They must have attacked us knowing we’re soldiers. That means there are already other hostile soldiers around… What’s going on?’

While thinking, the man revealed himself. He was an elderly man with a beard. He came out with his hands raised and slowly set down his weapon. Then, he spun around, showing that he had no other weapons on him.

It took him some time to approach. When the old man reached a safe distance, he got down on his knees and put his hands behind his head. His enhanced survival instincts gave no warning; it didn’t seem to be a suicide attack. Gyeo-ul, lowering his guard, approached slowly.

He could feel numerous eyes on his back. The squad members and engineers were tense.

“You said you wanted to see our faces?”

Gyeo-ul asked from a few meters away. The old man nodded. Gyeo-ul lifted his night vision.

The old man let out an exclamation.

“Oh. Unbelievable. You—you’re the one I saw on TV. When I heard your name, I could hardly believe it…”

Then he glanced toward the still-groaning wounded, then at Jeffrey’s wary squad members and the three engineers. The medic had no time to pay attention over here. Regret shadowed the old man’s face. Lowering his head, he spoke.

“We made a terrible mistake.”

In a gentle voice, Gyeo-ul suppressed the soldiers’ hostility.

“We can discuss the situation in detail later. Please ask your companion to come out as well.”

“All right.”

The old man turned and called out behind him.

“Kathleen! Come over here! These people aren’t Captain Harris’s men!”

From behind the sheltering tree, a woman reluctantly emerged and discarded her weapon. Despite her anxiety, she cautiously approached. She wore a deep olive uniform adorned with a golden sheriff’s badge. Once close enough, she froze for a moment, looking at Gyeo-ul, then knelt with a darkened expression.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…”

Jeffrey let out a heavy sigh. He ordered two soldiers to collect the old man and the sheriff’s weapons. Two military rifles and a single pistol—each with only a little ammunition left. Though the other soldiers conducted body searches, there were no spare magazines or hand grenades.

For the sheriff and the old man, it had been a truly desperate resistance. The sequence of events became clear.

Once the soldiers finished searching the two, they restrained them, binding their hands tightly behind their backs.

The medic reported the status of the wounded to the young officer.

“His life is not in danger. The bleeding has stopped. The bullet went straight through the thigh without hitting the artery. You’ll only need to be careful about keeping him warm. I recommend evacuation as soon as possible.”

Gyeo-ul was negative. Evacuating the wounded would mean splitting his forces. It was a risky choice.

“It’ll be difficult to evacuate right now. Understood. We’ll consider it. Thank you.”

The wounded, private Greg Gardner, was loaded onto a stretcher.

Gyeo-ul ordered movement and heightened vigilance. Swift action was needed—the gunfire had been loud. If there was a large mutant horde or an unknown group of hostile US soldiers nearby, serious trouble might arise.

They could talk while moving. The boy walked close to the two disarmed individuals, who looked extremely anxious and kept scanning their surroundings like frightened animals. Gyeo-ul asked them,

“Shall we hear your story now? Where are you from? Who is Captain Harris? And why did you attack us?”

Though three different questions, they were really one context. The sheriff hurried to answer.

“There isn’t much time, so I’ll be quick. We’re survivors from Camp San Luis Obispo. Captain Harris and his men are the same. We escaped together when the camp fell just before dawn on Christmas.”

Weren’t all survivors from Camp Obispo rescued? The Quarantine Line Command had declared the operation over. Gyeo-ul decided to listen to the end. The sheriff’s explanation flowed rapidly.

“Even after escaping the camp, we kept getting chased. While on the run, strange noises constantly streamed from the radios—a chaotic mix of normal communications and random screams…”

“Tricksters.”

“Yes. So we couldn’t ask for help. We saw reconnaissance planes a few times, but they never found us. It was only natural—we kept hiding in the mountains. I think the captain was a coward. He insisted we had to hide in rough terrain no matter what, to avoid the unseen mutants.”

Though the sheriff criticized the captain’s judgement, it wasn’t necessarily wrong. Tricksters never moved alone—and there was no guarantee there was just one. If manpower was limited, and there were many civilians to protect, Captain Harris’s decision to avoid battle was rational. Of course, that also meant they couldn’t receive support from other US soldiers.

Gyeo-ul, without showing his thoughts, continued the conversation.

“How did you end up in conflict with the soldiers?”

“It started with food. We escaped so urgently we had no time to grab anything. By the second day, we were out of fuel and had to abandon our cars. Captain Harris insisted that, to maintain combat effectiveness, soldiers should get priority in food distribution. He kept saying you never know when battle will break out. The civilian survivors protested, naturally—saying food should be divided fairly. Being constantly hungry, tempers worsened day by day. Then…”

The sheriff squeezed her eyes shut. But in her brief silence, the developments were not hard to infer.

“Did the soldiers actually kill civilians?”

“You’re correct.”

But it wasn’t the sheriff who answered. The old man testified to the tragedy.

“I believe it started as a spontaneous murder. We never knew what sparked it. By the time we realized something was wrong that morning… the captain’s men were massacring civilians. They were out of their minds. Adults, children—it made no difference. If not for a few conscientious soldiers, we wouldn’t have survived either. They’re all dead now, though…”

“Insane.”

It was Sergeant Liberman who spat the curse. For someone usually so stoic, it was rare. Gyeo-ul glanced back—every soldier listening to the conversation looked sick. Considering the timeline from the first encounter to now, Gyeo-ul judged there was little chance the testimony was false. His soldiers seemed to feel the same; much of their hostility had eased.

Still, Gyeo-ul kept a trace of suspicion. It was a habit when dealing with people—he needed both sides of the story before judging. If he ever confronted Captain Harris, he’d need to at least attempt a conversation.

Jeffrey spoke.

“Lieutenant. Even if half of this is true, we need to warn Meerkat. Tell them to watch out for a group of serial killers in army uniforms.”

He was worried about the tank crew guarding the vehicles, and also wary of the possibility of their vehicles being hijacked. But Sergeant Liberman objected.

“That’s dangerous. There might be a trickster tracking these people right now. We’re not the only ones who can maintain radio silence. And that bastard Captain Harris—he must have a radio too, right? If we broadcast, it might just tip off the enemy.”

Liberman had already labeled Harris as the enemy. Jeffrey frowned.

“Come on, Sergeant. Even if he had one, the batteries would’ve run out long ago. It’s been over a month since Camp Obispo fell. How would they still have battery power after wandering all this time?”

The sheriff interjected.

“No, they have a portable solar charger.”

“Goddamn…”

Jeffrey sighed.

“Let’s issue a warning.”

Gyeo-ul made his decision.

“Assuming everything these people say is true, Captain Harris is going to pursue witnesses to the end—otherwise, we wouldn’t have been attacked. Am I right, sheriff?”

“Yes. We’ve been chased nonstop.”

“In that case, we can’t leave Meerkat unguarded. Even if we send a transmission, it won’t expose Meerkat’s location. We’ll use call signs—no one will know what’s there. Even if there is a trickster, it’s better than letting Captain Harris kill the tank crew and seize nine Humvees. He’ll be an even trickier enemy than a horde of mutants.”

The sergeant shook his head but didn’t object further. Gyeo-ul called for the signaller.

‘Could the radio call go unnoticed?’

Possible—if none of their radios matched the frequency. But it was a slim chance.

If a silent trickster was nearby, even less likely. They copied transmissions and broadcast them across all frequencies. If they detected the call and began the hunt, Gyeo-ul’s voice would be endlessly rebroadcast, mixed with jamming.

Gyeo-ul, hesitating with the handset, finally pressed the transmit button.

“Meerkat, meerkat. This is David Actual. From now on, do not respond—just listen.”

A chilling static crept into the clear comms. It wasn’t too strong. Gyeo-ul, expecting this, calmly continued.

“There is a high chance of rogue US soldiers in the vicinity. They are suspected of massacring civilians. If you encounter unidentified US forces, consider them potential hostiles. Primarily, refuse contact; if they ignore that, you are authorized to open fire. This is an order as your commander. I take full responsibility.”

Gyeo-ul transmitted the same message twice more. On the final repetition, as if a distant echo, his voice overlapped with a delay. The echo would only grow closer.

After finishing, Gyeo-ul called for the sheriff.

“I need details on Captain Harris—his manpower, weapons and equipment, personality…”

“Wait.”

Anxiously, the sheriff interrupted.

“Seeing where you’re headed, you’re going toward the dam, right? I’m sorry, but please let me go ahead. The rest of my group is waiting just ahead. If they see soldiers approaching, they’ll panic and run. I need to tell them what’s happening. Otherwise, they might think I betrayed them.”

“There are more survivors? Isn’t it late to mention that?”

“……”

She averted her eyes. Gyeo-ul drew his bayonet. Startled, she tensed as he grabbed her to cut the bindings from her arms.

“Going with your hands tied wouldn’t be very convincing. Where are they?”

She pointed beyond, where the road continued. The roof of a one-story building was barely visible through the trees—not far at all. Gyeo-ul looked at his watch.

“Go. You have three minutes.”

Sometimes, taking the long way is faster. If the civilians fled, it would complicate his mission.

————————— Author’s Note —————————

#The Love the Author Dreams Of

Putin: There’s no one at my house tonight… Want to come in for some tea?

Author: Sure!

#Q&A

Q. RGZ95: @ Seeing the platoon leader ordering the LAW—yep, that’s the US Army for you (…)

A. I’ve heard they sometimes use 300 million won anti-tank missiles against infantry in Iraq. Now I understand why the US debt keeps climbing.

Q. CaMo: Doesn’t Gyeo-ul have an English name? Really enjoying reading NAPKO. Hang in there, author!

A. “Gyeo-ul” itself carries the meaning I intended, so I try not to use any other name. Thanks for the support! 🙂

Q. asdfh: There’s a typo in your first Q&A answer—you wrote three times a week instead of once. Please correct^^

A. That’s not a typo. Three times a week is correct.

Actually, this serial is supposed to be updated 3–5 times per week… But since I don’t stick to it myself, readers might not notice. I’ll try to do at least 3 updates sometimes, so readers can really feel it! Let’s go!

Q. MasterCalsolm: @ After all-nighter and reservist training… I feel like dying. Because I went to the army late, I’m over 40,000 years old and still can’t move to civil defense…

A. I’m in my sixth year now. No training next year, right? Sweet.

Q. 清流蓮: @ Thank you for the great writing as always! Please take care of your health as you continue.

A. I need to set my summer vacation dates… Yes, a true summer holiday from August 20th to August 20th, from summer to summer… an author’s distorted wish…

Q. cyanpile: @ I think those who dislike chat logs are concerned about losing story content, but you can always overcome that with more updates. For reference, I like the chat log sections.

A. Writing the chat logs is actually pretty tricky. Haha.

Q. blacktrial: @ I like both the chats and the writing. I’m waiting for both. 〉_o

A. I like both recommendations and comments. I’m waiting for both. 〉_ㅇ

Q. jestercourt: @ I don’t know about anything else, but this is the only leisure I enjoy in Italy. Please accept a coupon.

A. I want to go to Italy sometime too… I’ve only flown to Jeju Island so far…

Q. Raphaim: @ When I first read this, I promised myself I’d wait for 100 chapters in a row before starting… but I ended up reading today… Now I have to face the hell of waiting for each episode again;; Should I come back in 4 million years…

A. Please come often. Authors are like old creatures who die alone.

That’s why I almost died on my birthday—no, never mind.

Q. Yu-reong-swa-gyul: @ Will you keep writing in this universe? Did Gyeo-ul ever try other games?

A. I planned to, but haven’t managed to. There’s a separate licensing fee for the universe!

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep