DS Chapter 31

“A 30-year-old Ballantine’s…”

“Just wait a moment.”

The man turned as if to fetch the item. Then, he paused, glanced back discreetly.

“The words I just spoke must be true. There have been far too many who suffered from being swindled with fake medicine.”

“Of course. It’s the absolute truth—without a shred of falsehood. I swear it on my wife’s name. The director of JM Research Institute, Caroline.”

Poor aunt. To think that a name would be sold along with a bottle of whiskey. The young man shook his head.

The man fixed his eyes squarely on Uncle for a long moment, then climbed back into his vehicle. The black armored car disappeared over the hill.

Only after the man had gone did Uncle pat his forehead and climb back into the driver’s seat, his expression excited as if he’d just completed an extraordinary secret deal.

“At last, I’ll finally taste it—my Ballantine.”

“Uncle, is that guy dealing on his own? If a gang of looters were to show up craving supplies, we’d be completely screwed. Judging by his condition, he surely isn’t alone.”

I couldn’t shake the suspicion that a group of vicious criminals might be lurking nearby.

“And what does that have to do with us? As long as the deal goes through, that’s all that matters.”

“Because it seems too dangerous. What if they bring their gang and kidnap us? Uncle just sold out Aunt’s name!”

“Because it’s information from a reliable guy. If they want to keep trading with us, they won’t go around threatening us. Trust is the most important part of any deal.”

“Trust, my ass.”

The young man muttered, thumping his head against the backrest, grumbling that if things went wrong, it’d all be Uncle’s fault—and he’d pin it all on Aunt today.

Anyway, why is that guy trading in treatment? Is it really true that the treatment is used like cash outside the barrier?

His curiosity was short-lived; the moment he considered checking on the situation outside the barrier, he realized it wouldn’t change anything, and he quickly lost interest.

“…He’ll come back, right?”

“He will.”

“Sigh. Just thinking about going back makes me feel so trapped.”

“Stop whining, you useless kid.”

They waited for what felt like ages.

Then, the black armored vehicle appeared again. Could it really be that they had managed to bring the legendary 30-year-old Ballantine’s—the relic of the old world? That it’s still available? Even the young man, who had been nonchalant up to that point, felt his heart race.

Uncle greeted the man with an excited face.

“You’re back already!”

“Show me the medicine first.”

“Ah, yes. Just a moment.”

Uncle opened the back seat and pulled out an insulated bag. He then went on about how important it was to maintain the proper temperature for the new drug, showing off his scant knowledge to the man.

After inspecting the goods, the man pulled a bottle of whiskey from his trunk. Now it was Uncle’s turn to examine the item.

“You didn’t water it down, did you? Not that I’m doubting you—it’s just that this stuff is so rare that fakes are rampant.”

“Feel free to taste it.”

The man said without hesitation. Offering a sample of the unopened, precious whiskey, Uncle examined it with a tense expression.

It would be a shame to open it here, but he had to check if it was genuine. Clack! A refreshing sound as the cap came off.

Bringing it to his nose, he clearly detected the unmistakable aroma of whiskey, a scent that stirred long-forgotten memories. At the same time, nostalgic recollections of better days flooded his mind.

He cautiously tasted it with the tip of his tongue, as if savoring a sacred elixir. Upon tasting it, Uncle closed his eyes in contentment, and hot, tearful drops of overwhelming emotion slid down his cheek.

“Damn, what’s with him?”

The young man shook his head and honked the horn—a signal that if everything was settled, they should get going immediately.

But Uncle didn’t get back into the car; instead, he asked the man:

“Is this the last bottle you have left?”

“If the medicine you brought proves effective, we can trade for more.”

“…Then I’ll see you again.”

And just like that, the deal was successfully concluded.

The two hurriedly left the spot. The young man grumbled that all this trouble for just one bottle of whiskey was ridiculous, but Uncle remained unfazed.

Among survivors, when an item evoked nostalgia for the world as it once was, its price would skyrocket—making the long journey seem worthwhile.

“The new drug has to work if we’re going to trade again.”

“Aunt said this new drug is a real game-changer. They made such a fuss—claiming it can even save old zombies.”

“That should only happen once or twice. That damn treatment is a hit every time.”

“I’m telling you, this time it’s the real deal. A real game-changer.”

“Pfft, come on. Do you really believe that?”

The two continued to bicker even on the drive back.

Over the barren wasteland, small clouds of dust arose and then settled into a serene calm—a tranquility so unbelievable it was hard to imagine a world that had once teetered on the edge of destruction.

* * *

Logan’s armored vehicle climbed the hill and crossed a stream. Spotting wildflowers growing along the streambank, he stopped the car for a moment.

Stepping out of the vehicle, Logan gathered a bunch of yellow wildflowers. Their scent was delightful.

Placing the wildflowers on the passenger seat, he quickly resumed driving, periodically scanning the surroundings for any danger or signs that someone might be following him.

These days, people were far more dangerous than zombies.

Rumors had spread that he carried a precious stash of hard-to-find items, attracting would-be robbers.

He hadn’t been attacked by them yet, but he always had to stay on his guard. He had someone to protect.

Upon reaching his destination, he cleared away the leaves that had been covering the entrance to the air-raid shelter. This was his hidden sanctuary deep in the mountains—a place so well concealed it would be hard to find.

After one last look around, he hurriedly descended the ladder, carrying the treatment he’d traded for today along with the bouquet.

Due to the unstable power supply, the lights flickered. Although he had relied on the shelter for a long time, lately various parts of it were starting to wear out.

He began to wonder if it was time to look for another place.

“Kylie, I’m here.”

In the quiet, empty space where no one else seemed to be around, he cheerfully greeted her.

He set down his belongings and gently placed the bouquet beside Kylie’s face. Even just having flowers made the bleak interior of the shelter feel a little brighter.

“Spring must be here already—look, the flowers are blooming. Don’t you feel cooped up just staying inside? It’d be nice to catch some fresh air out there.”

There was no reply. Still, Logan continued to speak.

Today, as always, he waited for Kylie to wake up.

It felt like a long time had passed since she last opened her eyes. He hadn’t counted the days exactly, but every day waiting for her seemed unbearably long and tedious.

“Come on, wake up already so we can take a walk. How long are you planning to sleep?”

Sitting by the bed, he gazed intently at her face, so pale that the bluish veins were visible.

She looked as if she were in a deep sleep—so deep that it was hard to believe she was anything less than brain-dead, yet she was still intact.

Logan ran his hand along his wrist. Then, he let a drop of blood fall onto her sleeping lips. So that she wouldn’t die—so she could continue this long slumber.

“Today, you’re smiling.”

As usual, while quietly looking at her peacefully sleeping face, Logan continued.

Some days she looked sad, other days as if she were crying, and some days as if she were beaming with joy.

That meant Kylie was still very much alive. Every day, while dreaming different dreams, she stayed by his side.

He was relieved she was holding on. It seemed she might wake up soon. Hope was on the horizon.

He had never once lost hope that she would wake up.

Loneliness and isolation were inevitable, but with Kylie by his side, he missed her terribly.

He longed for the sound of her calling his name, her teasing smile, her pouty lips, and those sparkling eyes.

Yet, he tried not to dwell on what he missed too much. The more he thought about her, the more it felt like a hammer was pounding against his heart, making it hard to breathe.

He had to clear his mind and move on automatically to lessen that crushing longing, even if only slightly.

Logan took hold of Kylie’s arm. Her emaciated arm looked almost fragile.

“They say it’s a new drug. I’m not sure if it’s safe or not,” Logan said, examining the medicine with a worried look.

He recalled the face of the visitor he had traded with today—a middle-aged man, rugged and teary-eyed after a sip of whiskey. Could he be trusted?

After a long moment of hesitation, Logan administered an injection into her arm. The medicine the middle-aged man had given was ample—enough to last a month.

Her slender arm was a mess from the needle. Seeing that, Logan’s heart ached.

“Just hold on a little longer. It’s almost all in.”

He couldn’t let Kylie go. She was the one he had to protect.

So, somehow, he managed to get the medicine and jabbed her arm, all the while desperately hoping that Kylie would eventually open her eyes.

“All in. You held on well.”

He gently brushed back her dull hair.

If only she’d wake up, even for a moment—if that were to happen, Logan felt he wouldn’t mind giving his life.

It would be better for her to fight off the person trying to devour her than to remain in this endless slumber. If she were to sleep this long, he’d have fed her more blood, he thought ruefully.