Tysone had a bad feeling about this. Anyone with two working brain cells would stray as far as possible from the depths of the ocean, and doubly so when an Apocalypse happened. Human carcasses coming back to life to cause mayhem. One could only imagine the kind of terror lurking beneath the dark waves.
What kind of mutation could've happened there?
Rei, on the other hand, didn't think that highly of the sea, at least in its non-sushi forms. "So that means they're afraid of what's in the ocean as well. It isn't only a matter of watching the roads."
Takashi, who was always a tad superstitious about sea life, simply said "It's fish mutants, probably. Whatever you do, never go into the sea."
"That's easy for you to say, but I actually like my sashimi." Rei groaned.
"The sashimi in this case would probably like you too..."
"Meat." Miku mumbled.
Tysone ignored the antics of these two. Instead, he took the binoculars Saeko gave him, and zoomed into the part where most of the unarmed people were working, hoping to maybe snoop at the place. "Seriously, what is it that they are doing here?" Too many armed personnel, and even from afar he could glean tension and apprehension.
A lot of tension. A lot.
"There's no way we can get any more info unless we make a closer approach." Tysone concluded.
It was only a scouting expedition after all, a search and observation run. This place looked big, it could very well become their new outpost if they manage to secure a good position. But it did make him briefly reconsider whether it was actually a good idea or not.
Well, since they were here, he was really curious about why so many guards would cover the waterfront of all things. He felt like it'd be rude not to check it out, just a little. There must've been a reason for it.
He lowered the binoculars and took a deep breath.
Tysone spent about thirty seconds weighing the risks.
Then he decided the risks were acceptable, which was either leadership or stubbornness depending on who you asked.
Saya would've had opinions. Well, Saya wasn't here.
"Here's what we're doing." He began, over the radio first. "Kenji, you stay east with the Tortoise. Don't engage unless necessary, you'll pull us through if shit hits the fan."
"Understood." Kenji's voice cracked back immediately.
"Takashi, Rei. You two hold the Mule here. Same thing. Watch the northern approach road. Anyone comes down it that isn't us, you radio first and shoot second."
"And if they come fast?" Takashi asked.
"Then skip the radio."
Takashi nodded. Rei already had her spear across her lap.
"Miku." He turned to look at her. She was already vibrating slightly. "You're with me and Saeko."
She stopped vibrating. "Oh."
"Don't look so surprised."
"I'm not surprised, I'm just—" She glanced at Saeko. "He never takes me."
"I'm taking you now. Don't make me regret it." Tysone sighed.
"Define regret."
"Miku."
"Going, going."
Tysone glanced back one more time at Takashi and Rei. "Hold this place down." He looked at the port. "If we don't come back by dawn, don't look back."
"..."
Takashi and Rei looked extremely unwilling, but one look from Tysone cut off any protest they might have put forth.
Somewhere in the maze of metal and water, somebody would probably die tonight. He hoped it wouldn't be one of his.
He and Saeko and Miku slipped out of the Mule.
...
They went on foot, down the service slope that ran along the port's northern perimeter wall. The wall itself was old concrete, cracked and crumbling in places, tagged with faded graffiti.
The three of them moved quickly but quietly.
Tysone went first. Saeko behind him. Miku third, crossbow in hand.
The moon was nearly full and the aurora above was giving everything a ghostly, green-tinted light.
The first hundred meters were easy. They reached the edge of the container yard without running into anyone. The containers were stacked irregularly, creating alleyways and dead ends, a maze that would've been a nightmare to navigate without a plan. They stuck to the perimeter, heading south towards the tank structure with the lights on.
Tysone found a gap between two containers and gestured for them to stop.
They pressed against the cold metal, and he peered around the corner.
The tank was an enormous, corroded cylinder, maybe thirty feet high. He peered out, saw no one passing by, and signaled for the others to follow. They moved into the narrow space between the tank and the nearest row of containers.
They worked through the container rows, staying in the narrow channels between stacks, moving toward the eastern fuel tank where the activity seemed concentrated.
The containers gave good cover—waist-high sightlines at most, and only if you were standing on something. Anyone not actively looking into the rows wouldn't see them.
Three minutes in, they heard voices close enough to be actual words.
Tysone held up a fist. They stopped.
Two men, around the corner of a container stack, maybe ten meters away. Not sentries. They were sitting on an equipment crate, sharing something from a flask, with the kind of posture that denoted they were on an unannounced break.
"—don't know why we don't just leave." One of them was saying.
"What? And go where?" The other took a swig. "This is the only gig left that doesn't involve fighting zombies every hour."
"We're still fighting them."
"Yeah but not like this."
"Fuck."
One of them took a swig of the flask, hissing as the strong stuff burned his throat. Then he passed it back to the other, who also drank. "It's easy money... I mean, we just have to keep an eye out and those workers are gonna do the rest."
"Yeah, but it's weird... I feel like something's gonna happen."
"What could possibly happen?"
The other guy gave his colleague a side-eye. "The water. You haven't seen the water?"
"Not really..." A shrug. "I've been on perimeter guard for the past few days."
"Lucky you." A pause, the flask changing hands. "It moves. Not the current, not the waves. It moves. Like something underneath is breathing."
Silence for a moment.
"You're sleep deprived." The skeptical one said, shaking his head.
"I know what I saw."
"You know what you think you saw at three in the morning after six days of double shifts."
"Kagawa saw it too. And Kagawa doesn't see things." The first man insisted. "Something's out there. Something big."
A longer pause. The sound of more drinking.
"Whatever. I'll tell the boss to give you a day off."
"Fuck off."
The two of them laughed.
Tysone signaled to Saeko and Miku. He pointed to himself, then the two men, then made a gesture with his hand: two down. He pointed at Saeko and Miku, and then in front, showing them that he wanted them to move forward and cover.
The message was clear: Tysone would handle the two guards. The girls would make sure the way ahead was clear.
Saeko nodded. Miku's face was focused, her usual cheer replaced with concentration.
Tysone moved first, silent and quick.
He came around the corner fast enough that the men had just started to register his presence before he was on them.
The first one, the skeptic, tried to stand up and reach for the rifle leaning against the crate. Tysone's hand clamped down on the barrel of the rifle and bent it inward with a sharp twist. Before the man could open his mouth, a palm strike on his chest had sent him flying backwards.
The second man, the one who saw things in the water, had better reflexes. He was already up, pulling a pistol from his waistband. He didn't get it out of the holster. A kick to the side of his knee buckled it. As he was falling, Tysone grabbed his face and kneed him in the face.
In three seconds, without using any lethal force, both men were unconscious.
Saeko and Miku came around the corner behind him, and he gave them the go-ahead to move ahead.
They crept through another hundred meters of container alleyways, the sounds of the port—the distant groan of metal, the hiss of the fuel, the water lapping against the piers—covering their movements.
The eastern tank was directly ahead now.
Tysone could see the lights in the high windows more clearly. There was movement up there. At least four people, possibly more, shadowy figures against the dim glow.
However, there were roughly a hundred people working in the area below. Most of them were armed. Some carried swords, spears, or bows and others with firearms; the ones with cold weapons, standing on high grounds, were clearly evolved.
Author's Note: [ sorry folks just one chapter this week ]
If you're enjoying the story and want to read ahead or support my work, you can check out my P@treon at [email protected]/LordCampione. But don't worry—all chapters will eventually be public. Just being here and reading means the world to me. Thank you for your time and support.