“Zombies tend to mimic past behavioral patterns, right, Hiroaki?” Otoha said as though she’d just remembered.
“Right.”
Be it my parents, store employees, or what have you, the overwhelming majority of zombies we’d stumbled across on our journeys had tried going through the same old motions of their pasts.
There’s a hypothesis called body memory, which suggests that memory can be stored in the body as well as the brain. For example, there are records of organ recipients exhibiting intense cravings for the donors’ preferred foods. The brain is a bundle of neurons, but neurons aren’t exclusive to the brain; therefore, there’s a slight possibility that the body itself is capable of storing memories. It’s kind of like muscle memory, which is learning through doing. Repeat an action enough times and the body’ll remember, even if the brain has ceased functioning.
“Who do you associate with shopping malls?” Otoha lifted a finger. “That’s right—customers and employees. And what time is it? Well before opening hours. Case closed.”
“Uh, sure.”
Okay, it’s seven in the morning and the stores aren’t open, but how is that sufficient evidence?!
“It all adds up now.” Shino nodded in agreement.
Not you, too...
“No, it doesn’t! And you, Otoha, wipe that smug grin off your face right this instant!” Otoha was rocking her usual expression, but now that I’d known her for over a month I could tell she was feeling proud of herself. The slightly elevated corners of her lips, the subtle narrowing of her eyes... that kinda stuff.
“Posit the superior theory, then, Dr. Hiroaki.”
“First of all, it’s just Hiroaki. Secondly, I, erm...”
I don’t have one, but I can’t back out now! I racked my brains for the perfect retort.
At that moment, a groan came from down the hall.
“Check and mate,” I declared.
“Unpaid overtime from beyond the grave. Didn’t see that one coming.”
“Even the dead cannot help but bend a knee to the cosmic horrors of unpaid overtime.”
“Sure enough.”
I nodded in Shino’s direction, gave her the signal, and got into formation.
Leading the charge was our shovel-wielding, front-line general, a.k.a. Otoha. I was about ten steps behind her, and bringing up the rear was Shino.
“Judging from the sound, there’s just one.” Crouching low to the ground, Otoha crept forward.
I knew better than anyone that Otoha was more than capable of handling herself in a fight, but even so my hands were clammy with sweat.
I swallowed hard, then warned, “Don’t get too cocky. It might be a trap.”
Zombies setting traps? Unlikely. Other living, breathing human beings who had once tried holing up in here? Very possible.
Otoha waved us over upon reaching the end of the hall. “Come.” She was standing tall with her shovel lowered, completely at ease.
“Odd...” Shino and I exchanged glances and walked over to her.
“What’s going on h—oh.”
“Eek!”
“Eek indeed.”
We’d turned the corner only to find a legless female zombie lying on the floor. A fledgling, from the looks of it. It had clean skin and wore a crooked pair of silver-rimmed glasses.
Must’ve been one hell of an accident.
Aside from the pool of blood and protruding intestines, the zombie could’ve easily passed for a human being.
“Hmm?” Something was off about this one. It was clutching numerous bags of sweets, some of which had spilled onto the ground.
As if that wasn’t enough, its jacket pockets were also stuffed full of sugary treats, looking like they were about to burst at any given second.
Did she plan on eating all these? No, that’d be insane.
“I-It’s moving,” Shino muttered, voice quaking with fear.
“If it’s got a head, it moves,” Otoha replied, poking the corpse with her shovel. “Simple as that.”
The fact that it lacked legs meant it wouldn’t get up and move around, and the arms were... preoccupied, so to speak. In terms of threat level it was close to, if not entirely, harmless.
“It really likes its sweets, doesn’t it?” Shino mused. “Imported sweets, that is.”
Now that you mention it, all the packaging is in English. Lots of chocolate stuff here, too.
She looked over at me. “Think she might’ve been that one girl who gave every guy some generic, store-bought chocolate on Valentine’s Day?”
“Of course... not!”
Shino was the closest thing to a “perfect” lady, inside and out, I knew, but even she had her moments of weirdness.
Still, even those moments are cute in their own way.
She tilted her head, then bent down to pick up a fallen bag of sweets. “What else would she do with all thi—”
“GraAargh!”
“Eek?!”
Teeth bared, the zombie cried out in rage.
Not expecting it to get this angry—yes, angry—we failed to react in time. Admittedly, this had been partially caused by our own hubris.
The zombie sprang up in the air, swiping out to grab Shino’s ankle as it fell back down.
“Lady Shino!”
A shrill voice rang in our ears, followed by a thundering shotgun blast. The zombie’s head flew right off, bursting into a million pieces like a ruptured water balloon. Blood, gray matter, and loose chunks of cranium scattered all over the floor.
Now missing everything above its bottom lip, the zombie collapsed.
After that, the remains of the silver-rimmed glasses fell to the ground with a clink.
“Are you okay?!” Clutching the Mossberg 500, Tetsuko ran over to her mistress’ side.
Are those... two shotgun shells between her fingers?! Combat load hype!
Combat loading was a highly specialized technique performed primarily by trained soldiers on military shotguns. It involved loading a shell directly into the chamber, firing, and reloading again in quick succession, completely doing away with the need for a magazine. Shotgun ammo came in all shapes and sizes, but with combat loading, you’d get to freely switch between whichever one was needed.
Tetsuko had opted for either a slug or sabot round—single projectile rounds designed for hunting large game—instead of standard buckshot. Considering the zombie had been directly behind Shino, buckshot had been out of the question, as it would’ve hit her as well.
Otoha looked at the maid. “Uemura, why—”
“You were taking a little too long for comfort, so I came out to check on you. My sincerest apologies.” Sensing that the danger had passed, Tetsuko lowered the shotgun.
I glanced over at the unmoving, effectively headless corpse.
In terms of caliber, shotguns were king, easily beating out the competition. While their effective range was rather small, their stopping power was off the charts.
After all, Tetsuko’s blast had torn the zombie’s head clean off, sparing Shino’s clothes from the subsequent spray of blood and gray matter.
“Checkup time.” Otoha crouched down and reached for Shino’s clothes.
“Erm, Otoha, what are you doing?”
“Off. Now,” Otoha ordered, looking Shino in the eye. “If there’s a scratch or a bite mark, you could turn zombie.”
“Otoha, relax!”
“We’ve got to act fast. I’ll start by cutting off your limbs. That should do the trick.” Otoha raised her shovel overhead. “Quickly, before the virus spreads. World War Z style.”