I Have Returned, but I Cannot Lay down My Gun

Chapter 668

"Ah, it's cold... Ah, hello. Hello…."

"<You did well. You're dripping with sweat. Did you drink enough water?>"

"Water… Ah, little! Little drink!"

"<Good timing. Stay here for a bit. And the others... Everyone worked hard. Go wash up and get some rest.>"

"<Don’t touch our little snake.>"

1:30 AM, Brooklyn Borough Park, Maymoniz Medical Center Command Room.

One by one, those who had snow piled up on their heads and shoulders carefully returned to the entrance, and the iron gate that had been firmly shut opened, welcoming those who had just completed their work or patrol missions outside.

The diesel fuel, one of the most precious resources as of late, was burned to generate electricity that provided heating from the first to the fourth floor of the medical center pavilion, and the snow accumulated on their bodies began to melt little by little.

Among them, only Eugene, wearing a woolen hat, was left behind in the command room. The woman sitting in the chair took off her gloves and started to blow on her reddened fingers to warm them.

Looking at the scene, Captain Parkinson quietly asked.

"<Wasn't it cold?>"

"<Eh, it’s cold. A little. Not too much.>"

"<I see. Would you like something warm to drink?>"

"<Ah, thank you.>"

What should I say? Over the past few days, Eugene’s burden about speaking English had slightly lessened, and now she was expressing herself clearly, even with short words.

She didn’t even notice when her lips loosened, and in that moment, the operations officer, who had already predicted that expression change, subtly moved to the break room.

It didn’t take long for a sweet smell to fill the room, and the source of that smell was so distinct that even she could recognize it the moment it reached her nose.

A small smile appeared on Eugene's face as her cheeks flushed.

"Wow, wow, hot chocolate…."

"<I hope you like it. It's one of the last snacks we have. It’s loaded with sugar, so it should suit your taste… Drink it slowly; it's hot.>"

"<And you all…?>"

"<Don’t mind us.>"

Did she really understand?

She couldn’t be sure, but after shaking her head a few times, Eugene seemed to get the hint and carefully grabbed the cup. Steam rose from the mug. The warm steam floated into the air.

Soon, a small slurping sound was heard. At that moment, Eugene’s eyes grew as wide as lanterns, and with a smile on her face that clearly showed she was happy, she began sipping her drink.

Just then, the voice of the operations officer came from behind.

"<Your face is completely relaxed, Captain.>"

"<Shut up, you little brat.>"

"<Isn't it cute? I don’t know where she’s from, but she’s pretty sweet and polite. Did you know that because of her, more people are taking part in manual labor these days?>"

"<…I expected it, but I didn’t think it would be to this extent.>"

He said that, but he couldn’t disagree with the operations officer. Even without exaggeration, there were few people who wouldn’t feel affection for her, whether in terms of appearance or personality, especially while she was sipping hot chocolate.

…Before arriving here, one might wonder what kind of hardships she must have overcome.

It was a horrifying story, but as society collapsed and the range of law enforcement was reduced to a level akin to an anarchic society, crimes that would have been hard to even speak about became frighteningly common.

Murder, looting, arson, rape, or combinations of those crimes.

Could it be assumed that this girl hadn't experienced such things?

'...'

But, naturally, they knew well that there was no reason to speak of such things in front of others.

Instead, Eugene’s Oxford English-Korean dictionary, which had been sitting in front of her while she looked wistfully at her now half-finished hot chocolate, was gently opened.

The book was quite worn from frequent use. Although he couldn’t read the scribbles, it was clear there were notes written in it.

Flipping through the words, he formulated a few sentences in his mind, wrote down words that might be hard for her to understand, and spoke.

"<You might have heard it from Sergeant Mitchell, but in about 30 hours, we’ll be leaving Brooklyn. Central Park in Manhattan is our final destination… and you’ll be going there as well.>"

"…Central Park?"

"<Yes. We leave early the day after tomorrow.>"

It was a bit ambiguous to conclude that she understood, so he wrote down a few more things on the paper – the week of January and the exact departure time.

After seeing the “30H” written on the paper and hearing about the departure, Eugene nodded as if she understood, and Captain Parkinson exhaled softly, as if he was about to say something but stopped himself.

He had heard from Sergeant Mitchell about how Eugene ended up here and what her purpose was… and he realized that he couldn’t help her with that.

'…This little one said she came to travel from Korea…'

Indeed, for quite a while... No, maybe even until the day her natural life expired, she might not be able to return to Korea.

Even if the U.S. President - who might be in some bunker by now - were to intervene, it wouldn't guarantee her return. Perhaps it might be possible, but there was no way they would send a plane just for her.

And maybe even Korea itself… No, there was no need to mention this. The girl wasn’t a fool. She was probably pretending not to know, desperately trying not to be sad. He thought to himself.

So, he simply added firmly:

"<Until then, don’t get hurt, and focus on what you can do. It’s our job to get you and the civilians safely to Central Park.>"

"<Do you think she understood?>"

"<It’ll be fine if we speak in simple terms.>"

He took a breath and spoke again.

"<In two days, we’ll safely take you and the civilians to Central Park. You don’t need to worry about that. Understood?>"

"<…I understand.>"

"<Good. Was the hot chocolate good?>"

"<…Yes.>"

The cup, now empty, was taken by the operations officer while Captain Parkinson rubbed his tired eyelids, stood up quietly from his chair, and brushed off the droplets of water from Eugene’s hat and shoulders.

He felt an impulse to ruffle her hair but refrained, simply adding:

"<Sleep well, little one.>"

"<…Thank you. The hot chocolate was delicious.>"

"<Of course it was. How much sugar did I put in it, after all?>"

Eugene stood up slowly from her seat, turned, and walked toward the door leading outside the command room. She glanced back at the soldiers standing guard in the room with a somewhat reluctant expression.

Not long after, with a click, Eugene sniffed and carefully closed the door behind her. The last thing Captain Parkinson and the operations officer saw were her flushed nose and eyes, with tears brimming in her eyes.

A brief silence passed, and Captain Parkinson checked the new message from Manhattan.

"<Should we be thankful that she won’t fall into biological experiments, or should we regret that she’ll be sent to extreme jobs like ours?>"

"<…Well, I hope only good things happen.>"

"<That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve heard in a while.>"

Message from Manhattan:

Prototype Icarus Gear Operator Recruitment - Target Mutants.

Not knowing what Icarus or gear was, the two of them sighed deeply, praying only for Eugene’s future to be brighter. At least it wasn’t a biological experiment, and that was the only unanimous thought between them.

The night in New York was dark, and time passed.

"Wake up, little one. It’s time to go."

"…Eh, ugh… Yes, I’m going."

...At the sound of someone knocking loudly on the door, I struggled to open my eyes and saw a ceiling I didn’t recognize.

It looked like I might have been hospitalized. However, there was nothing unusual about it. I was in a small hospital room. The only difference was that I wasn’t in a cast or hooked up to an IV.

This was the ceiling of a hospital room in the Maymoniz Medical Center. Like most hospital rooms, it was quite small, with only an adjustable hospital bed in the room.

That was where I was lying.

When the door opened, the hallway lights turned on, and through the dim light at the boundary between the dark room and hallway, I could barely make out the face of Sergeant Mitchell, her face illuminated from behind.

I looked up at the LED clock. It was 5 AM.

There was quite a bit of movement outside. The soldiers and civilians stationed here had probably already gotten up. It wasn’t entirely wrong to think so.

Anyway, today was a few days after I had arrived here, and that meant... It was time to leave this place and head for that notorious Central Park.

Having heard many warnings since last night, my preparations didn’t take long. The things I needed to bring were much simpler than before. A few days' worth of meals, water, my English-Korean dictionary, and my favorite blanket.

I had already packed my duffel bag earlier, and fortunately, unlike what the soldiers had told me last time, I had already moved the grenade launcher and ammunition to the truck before I went to sleep, so all I had to do now was take my bag.

...In other words, the gun I brought with me recently was unfortunately confiscated.

It wasn’t a handgun, though.

Sergeant Mitchell smiled a little and added:

"<Breakfast is ready, so let’s head out quickly. We’ve got a lot to do. You won’t know when the next meal will be, so eat up.>"

"Yes…."

Though a few days had passed, I could now hear English more frequently.

I rubbed my sleepy eyes and put on my clothes. The heating had already been turned off, and the hallway felt cold. I bundled up in thick clothes and, with my duffel bag slung over my shoulder, headed downstairs to the cafeteria. Most of the people were already done with their meals.

I sat down at an empty spot and looked around. There were more soldiers than civilians. The meal was the latest CCAR combat ration, something that usually didn’t come out. I heard it was dropped by a transport plane.

As I chewed on a semi-dried banana bar that still retained its original flavor, Sergeant Mitchell briefly explained what would happen today.

"<The first destination today is near Langon Hospital. It's about 2 kilometers west of here. Evacuation will take place at the nearby baseball field via transport planes.>"

"Transport planes? Evacuation…?"

"<Look at this.>"

"Aha."

Fortunately, Sergeant Mitchell explained some confusing words in Korean with her slightly crooked handwriting. It seemed her Korean skills had improved a bit.

Anyway, I understood the basic details of today’s mission without much trouble. Including the evacuation from Langon Hospital.

"<Langon Hospital has fewer civilians, but a lot of high-powered firearms and the headquarters of the 104th Military Police Battalion… Wait, this might be hard to understand. Let’s just say they have more valuable things there.>"

"Aha."

"<That’s why, Langon Hospital started its evacuation at 3 AM.>"

There were a few words I didn’t quite catch, but I understood the gist. Langon Hospital had more valuable things, so they were evacuating earlier than us.

After a bit more explanation, she used gestures and added that our unit would continue the perimeter defense mission until 6:30 AM and that civilians would be evacuated first.

Then... Does that mean I’ll be leaving first? It was a little disappointing to think about - and then she continued speaking.

"<But unfortunately for you... You’ll be going with us, not the civilians.>"

"...Eh? Why…?"

"<Because your weight is about the same as three adult men.>"

"...Ah."

I felt embarrassed and covered my face with my palm.

She was right. Right now, I weighed around 200 kg. The hospital bed I was lying on had temporary steel reinforcements. It was good that I had strength, but I didn’t expect to weigh this much.

Anyway, although I was a little uneasy, I felt better than I would have with the civilians because I had grown closer to the soldiers.

Whether she knew what I was thinking or not, she continued.

"<If we load 70 civilians and various supplies, the total weight would exceed the limit. In other words… we might exceed the weight limit. You wouldn’t want to crash, right?>"

"...Yes, I understand."

"<Good, you're a good kid.>"

At the same time, Sergeant Mitchell ruffled my hair. I hadn’t washed yet, but…

Anyway, it was time to go. We headed downstairs, where I saw soldiers loading civilians orderly onto trucks, wearing thermal gear in the dark.

Emergency lights, reflective vests, dim lighting, whistles. It was loud, but it couldn’t be helped. Without it, controlling the situation would be impossible.

Captain Parkinson checked the refugee list until the very end and simultaneously sent out a truck with 15 civilians and another heavily armed escort truck with the grenade launcher I’d moved.

I heard there weren’t many vehicles, so the escort truck would need to return. It was a heartbreaking shortage of supplies.

In the meantime, Lieutenant Ellison, who had become friendly with me after the last incident, came up and added:

"<Eugene, you’re coming with us. Got it?>"

"I already told her, Lieutenant."

"You're quick. Stay here and wait."

It seemed like they cared for me too much...

The trucks began to leave. There were no headlights, but I saw that the drivers had night vision goggles, so it seemed like it would be okay.

Minutes passed. Trucks with 15 civilians made five trips back and forth, and it was finally time for the soldiers to board. Since there were about the same number of soldiers and civilians, it took a while before it was my turn.

But now... it was my turn to leave this place.

"<Get on, Eugene.>"

"Ugh...!"

Lieutenant Ellison patted me on the back, and I stepped onto the truck.

Coincidentally, the truck I boarded was the one with the grenade launcher I had moved earlier. It had a small cushion on the floor for people to sit on, which was a bit cute.

Once everyone had boarded, the truck roared to life and slowly started moving. It didn’t take long to exit the parking lot.

Just then, how long had passed? Lieutenant Ellison pressed a button, and a faint vibration was felt from inside the hospital.

It didn’t take long for me to realize it was the procedure to destroy any excess ammunition, ensuring no one could take it.

Just a few days had passed, and the second sanctuary was already being buried in darkness. I muttered weakly in English.

"<…Can patients ever come back here?>"

"<…Someday, they will.>"

That was such a fleeting hope that I couldn’t say anything.

Watching Maymoniz Medical Center, the first place to give me comfort and peace, being swallowed by the darkness, I was overcome by an indescribable emptiness.

Would I live this drifting life forever? What about Central Park? Could I adapt there too…? But one thing was for sure; as I felt last time, I wouldn’t know unless I went there myself.

Hoping for a little rest ahead, I buried my face in the duffel bag.

It was such a dark world.

- This is the Ripper. Currently hovering over the Brooklyn escape point. The wind is picking up again. I estimate fuel consumption to be 15% higher than expected.

- Check. Anything unusual?

- Uh… Not sure, but MTA station… near 36th Street Greenwood subway station