The Little Prince in the Ossuary-Chapter 86 : Lakefront Night (5), Santa Margarita Lake

Lakefront Night (5), Santa Margarita Lake
"Phew, there's nothing we can do. We can't cross."
Jeffrey spoke with a heavy sigh. It couldn't be dismissed as mere whining; all the officers gathered at the Humvee shared the same opinion. As Gyeo-ul drew their attention, he once again carefully examined the map, tracing the upper reaches of the Burrito River.
The source of the river lay in the southern High Mountain. Water flowing down the northern slopes of the mountain drained into the lowlands west of Santa Margarita Lake. Assuming the watercourses that had dried up due to drought had all revived, the chances of finding a spot upstream suitable for vehicle fording were still extremely slim.
Gyeo-ul made his decision.
"Let's leave the vehicles behind."
At first, no one understood the young officer's words. Would giving up the vehicles somehow solve the problem?
Gyeo-ul proposed crossing on a single rope. The idea was to throw a grappling hook with a rope tied to it, secure it on the far side, and cross hanging from the rope. Jeffrey, who had anticipated the mission would be aborted, looked as if his whole world had collapsed. Even Sergeant Liberman, who was experienced, looked a bit flustered.
"We should've brought a launcher. We really should have expected something like this, but I didn't think far enough ahead."
The grappling hook launcher used by the US military worked basically like an air gun: you compress air with a compressor and load the hook, then fire it with a bang. It wasn't a common piece of equipment—there simply weren't many occasions to use it.
There was also a type of grenade-shaped grappling hook that could be fired by fitting it onto a rifle's muzzle. But that one was much too small to support a person, and, besides, they didn't have it on hand.
Gyeo-ul said, "We have grappling hooks, don't we? We can just throw them by hand. Hurry up. If we take any longer, we might not even be able to do this much."
The water level in the river was visibly rising by the moment. If the surroundings became completely flooded, it would be too late. Jeffrey responded, "The wind's so strong, I'm not sure if it'll work. I'll round up anyone confident in their throwing arm."
Fortunately, there were enough grappling hooks. Still, as they tied ropes to the hooks, the soldiers appeared to lack confidence in what they were about to do. Private First Class Elliot muttered, "We did practice this in training, but I never thought we'd actually use it in real life..."
Sergeant Liberman retorted, "Every training has its reason, moron."
"Who said otherwise? Life just throws all kinds of stuff at you, I guess. I bet no one in the whole army's actually done this before."
Even though they'd picked the narrowest point of the waterway, they still had to throw it nearly 40 meters. On top of that, they had to try it in pouring rain and strong wind. Even Gyeo-ul, blessed with the 「Throw」 adjustment, found it challenging.
At first, the soldiers behaved like cowboys from Western movies, just spinning the rope at their spots and flinging the hooks. Swept side to side by rough air currents, the hooks splashed down in the middle of the river again and again. After repeated failures, the soldiers became stubborn and gradually started throwing closer to the manual's instructions—taking a running start to add momentum, letting go with a spinning throw, and throwing themselves forward along with the rope.
Splat!
It was not a pretty sight. With every throw, the soldiers tumbled and got their faces covered in mud. The soldiers who hadn't yet had their turn snickered watching, but soon enough, they too were in the same boat. The bedraggled soldiers cheered each other on.
"Hang in there, engineers! This is your field, isn't it?"
"Shut up!"
An energetic engineer ran and fell, letting the wind claim the grappling hook. Lifting only his head, he watched the flying hook, which, drawing a parabola, landed far off its intended tree. The engineer banged his head against the ground in frustration.
Gyeo-ul didn't spare himself, either. The commander's seat wasn't for sitting out and staying clean. So what if a bit of dirt got on him? The rain would wash it off anyway. Only the grit inside his clothes was a bit unpleasant.
Time passed. Just as Gyeo-ul was debating whether to spend experience for an upgrade in 「Throw」, a muted cheer went up. At last, a grappling hook had caught on an oak tree across the river. The soldier who'd succeeded delightedly pumped his fist, while those nearby slapped his shoulder and helmet in congratulations.
Gyeo-ul gathered the troops and gave instructions.
"Move the vehicles up there. Looks to be about 40 meters higher than the riverside. That should be safe from flooding, even if the lowlands submerge. There are trees nearby, so it'll be easier to camouflage. Tank crews stay and guard the vehicles. With that gun's range, we can call for support if needed. Go now. Check out how much visibility we have to the east and back."
A short while later, the tank commander ed they could fire directly up to 1.3 kilometers. Even from the other side of the river, that still left a full kilometer in range. Sergeant Liberman was satisfied.
"Once we cross, we've got about 5 kilometers to cover on foot, but... about 20% of the route is within tank range. Even if things go south and we're chased by half-dead things, we'll feel a bit safer."
Jeffrey sought Gyeo-ul's opinion.
"First lieutenant, is it okay if we cross with only our personal gear? It's ten kilometers round-trip, and even factoring in opening the floodgate and returning, it shouldn't take more than three or four hours at most."
Personal gear meant moving without a pack, carrying only weapons and basic ammo. Gyeo-ul shook his head.
"You never know. If we're unlucky and the dam bursts while we're on the way, we'll have to scramble to high ground and wait out the floodwaters. Since there's a chance we could be stranded for a long time, I don't think just personal gear will suffice. At the very least, each needs three days' worth of food, fuel, a sleeping bag, and spare ammo."
"Eh? Three days' worth? Is that really necessary? If this whole area's low ground, the water should drain out in a day."
"You never know. Tell everyone to pack nine rations each. Try to pick the lightest menus possible."
Combat rations weren't all the same weight. Menu choices could differ by more than 200 grams. It might not seem like much, but nine packs came to nearly 2 kilograms. If they took the lighter menus, they could eat three more meals for the same weight.
If they'd had simplified rations (FSR), they could've packed more—but those weren't available now.
Sergeant Liberman shook his sleepy head.
"Attention to detail is great, but you don't need to worry that much. Our guys won't collapse from a difference of one or two kilograms. The real issue is volume. We'll have to pull a lot out of our packs to fit it all."
The troops moved busily, needing a little time to repack their gear. Gyeo-ul also packed his own. Just as the sergeant had said, weight wasn't a problem.
With preparations complete, it was time to decide who would cross first. The soldiers eyed the rope, humming in the wind, with unease. This wasn't ideal training room conditions. There were even doubts about whether the hook was really secured. Even if several people pulled at the same time, it didn't budge—but it still wasn't reassuring. Someone had to cross with just personal gear, retie the rope on the other side, and finally, everyone would be at ease.
Naturally, Gyeo-ul volunteered—but the other soldiers stopped him.
"Leading by example is a virtue for officers, but First Lieutenant, you're too much. How about sending our platoon leader instead? With all the salary he's pocketed, he ought to do at least this much."
"Hey. Why you picking a fight with me?"
Guilherme retorted sharply to Private Guilherme's joke, but it was all in good fun.
Although he hesitated for a moment, Gyeo-ul didn't yield the first crossing. The risk was best minimized. Was there any need to waste a 14-grade 「Movement」?
The boy laid his weight on the rope with just his personal gear, a thin cord tied around his waist in case something went wrong. If he fell in, the troops would have a line to pull him back.
He hooked his right foot over the rope, let his left leg dangle for balance, and pulled himself along. He moved at a pace close to a light run.
In just over ten seconds, Gyeo-ul crossed and landed in the tree, retrieving the hook wedged among the branches. The soldiers on the other side slackened the line, giving him enough play to re-tie it easily. Gyeo-ul jumped down from the branch, wrapped the rope twice around a big tree trunk, and knotted it securely several times. The same process happened on the other side.
Next, the soldiers attached the boy officer's pack to the rope, using the lifeline once tied around his waist to pull it across.
There were some worrisome moments as the soldiers crossed, but thankfully, there were no accidents.
Once the crossing was finished, Gyeo-ul checked his watch.
Current time: 8:51 p.m. If all went well, they could return before midnight.
The path ahead began with a gentle uphill grade. The road was so narrow that even a single tank would have trouble passing. Even a cracked, battered little road like this had a name: Las Pilitas. With so many Latin immigrants in the area, you'd hardly know it was America just by looking at the place names.
'There are neighborhoods here where English isn't spoken at all.'
They planned to head up this oddly named road, follow the Salinas River when it appeared, and trace the upstream; after all, the dam was where the river began.
The uphill stretch continued for almost a kilometer. As they walked, the heat built up in their bodies, even in the cold weather. That's how marching was. Moreover, Gyeo-ul's pack was significantly heavier than the others'. Trusting in his stat boosts, he'd stuffed in more ammo and rations.
His boots were soaked inside, which didn't help the march either.
Personally, Gyeo-ul was satisfied. He liked feeling physically exhausted. Pain made reality tangible, so he'd purposely increased his sensory synchronization rate for pain.
With the uphill over, just as a prickling sensation flared in his soles walking down the hill, he reached the Salinas River. The direction of march swung south.
How long had they trudged along the rough riverbank when—
Gyeo-ul shouted, "Get down!"
Most of the soldiers responded almost reflexively.
Some did not.
Ta-ta-ta-tat! Ta-tat!
Sharp gunfire mixed with the muffled roar of water. Two slow-reacting soldiers were hit. It was clearly aimed fire—an intentional ambush. Two attackers. Gyeo-ul was briefly caught off guard. They'd prepared for mutants, but an attack from humans was unexpected.
"Two o'clock, fifty meters! Suppressing fire!"
Gyeo-ul yelled. Even now, shouting was safer than using the radio.
With clear direction given, the soldiers immediately fought back. The assailants were hiding in the riverbank woods, with lots of cover. Gyeo-ul didn't expect the counterfire to hit, but he hoped it would keep the hostiles penned in.
'Who are they? In this run, no anti-government armed groups were supposed to appear yet. Are they Mexicans who crossed the border?'
As the boy pondered the attackers' identity and how to respond, Jeffrey called out for the medic.
"Doc! Doc! Check the wounded!"
One of those who'd been shot groaned and rolled to the side.
"Ugh, I'm fine! Just look after Greg over there!"
Though he'd been hit twice, he was okay—thanks to his body armor. The medic ran to the other man.
The other wounded soldier wasn't so lucky—he cried out in pain. It looked like he'd taken a bullet through the thigh. The medic quickly pulled a tourniquet from his first aid kit and wound it tightly above the wound, twisting the lever-like handle to cut off the bleeding.
"LAW!"
"Wait! Hold your fire! Cease fire!"
Jeffrey, enraged, called for a rocket shot. Gyeo-ul quickly stopped him.
"Why?! What—why are you stopping me?!"
He was quite flustered, reverting to informal speech and then back to formal.
"Don't you think something's off?"
"What do you mean?!"
It was crazy for just two people to launch the attack, even if it was an ambush. Whatever their reason for attacking, if they were all there was, it was terrible tactics—running away would've made more sense.
It was hard to believe they had reinforcements ready. So far, there'd been no fire from another direction.
Instead of explaining all this, Gyeo-ul maintained his aim and slowly stood up.
---------------------------= Author's Note =---------------------------
# I wish I could show readers a video of someone throwing a grappling hook, but HTML isn't allowed in the story settings. Posting it as a notice doesn't feel right...
For now, I'll post the link in the settings. Please copy and paste to watch. It's short—and a little funny.
#Q&A
Q. muze2000: Enjoyed it, thanks ^^ By the way, are you getting any sleep? The fact these go up in the morning means you pull all-nighters...
A. Yes, I pulled another all-nighter. Why does this keep happening to me?
I feel like I could solve it by updating just three times a week. Will consider it positively. :)
Q. 돌떵이불떵이: About the clear conditions of games in that world—has Gyeo-ul beaten any before? Do the gallery members wish for a clear? Or is it just so hard no one's cleared it?
A. 트리플론: 돌떵이불떵이//The author already explained: when the overseeing AI judges that humanity is no longer at risk of extinction in that world, then it's game clear.
Q. 淸流蓮: Thank you for another good chapter! If the MRE tasted good, you must've been eating really nasty things... oh right, it's US-made food. Hearing such tasty descriptions just makes me hungrier. ㅇㅅㅇ I imagine what Gyeo-ul normally ate was like the protein bars from Snowpiercer—is that about right?
A. Sometimes readers' imaginations surpass the author's writing. I'd like to leave that up to your imagination. Haha.
Q. 마스터칼솔럼: Not long ago, I tried an ROKA combat ration. For a foodie, it was rough.
A. The author is blessed with a dull palate and could eat the old-style green-square packaged, oily block rice (Type 1 before Type 2). My tastes may have changed since, but back in the day, even broth powder tasted good...
Q. 도화원: I trust you with the focus and readability of the work as always. (That's my joy! I believe the more you agonize, the better the work gets.) It seems TOM even affects zombies. Even evolving in other worlds just gives them stats or traits; with Gyeo-ul's high TOM affinity, their AI goes wild? Most of the gallery only feels vague incongruity so far... guaaargh gyaaahk!
A. If even the viewers are questioning whether they're in the same setting, it's clear Gyeo-ul's *After the Apocalypse* is qualitatively different from others'.
Q. 영광의 창: An engineer friend would cry seeing this. They have to build three bridges this month despite the heatwave alert...
A. We must thank everyone fulfilling their national defense duty. Please comfort your friend.
Q. DuskTaker: Is Afterlife Insurance limited to zombie games? Are there puzzle or racing or strategy game types? In the story, they all seem like zombie games.
A. There are definitely different types. You'd know if you read the intermission.
Q. 루시드림: Author... de... dea!!! Dead!!!
A. Dead! Death from overwork! Rest before dying from overwork! Summer vacation! The author's warped desire!
Q. 破雷: Did the Rangers pull out from Santa Maria? Did they go to Fort Roberts?
A. Their mission is contaminated area reconnaissance, so Santa Maria isn't their fixed base. They're not in Fort Roberts.
Q. 늙은오리너구리: Leave 700 minerals at the hatchery for a command center.
A. Thanks for the minerals. But why build a command center at the hatchery...
Q. 리프레드: I want to see Matsumin.
A. Since some readers really dislike chat-based characters, I'll only include as much as necessary and won't increase their presence.