Chapter 151: [Gaiden] Boiled Life (2)
[DAY-1]
The transport plane had dropped me off near the 14 Special Ops Units camp area.
Uh, sorry about that. They move around without reporting to headquarters, and the higher-ups dont care about them anymore either, so its hard to pinpoint their exact location. But they always snatch away the supply crates before they even hit the ground, so theyll pick you up soon enough if they drop you there.
When I told the supply soldier, holding just a single gas mask with a swollen face, that I was going to the 14 Special Ops Unit, they looked at me with a pitying expression and handed me a small backpack.
And so, with a backpack on the front and a parachute pack on my back, I somehow fell into the jungle.
He spent 30 minutes struggling to get out of the parachute that got stuck in a tree, then another hour barely managing to escape by using the bayonet on his belt and finding the gun that he dropped nearby.
Moving around in the humid jungle in an already exhausted state, it took less than two hours for me to collapse.
Do I just need to wait here?
Thud.
Ziiiip
Sitting down on what looked more like a small clearing without trees than a supply drop area, I opened the backpack that the supply soldier gave me. I found an assortment of useful provisions inside. Blanket and soap. A poncho and a small sleeping bag. And
Crinkle
Oh, chocolate?
Even before he could feel the appreciation for the familiar plastic packaging, he heard a low-pitched mans voice from behind.
Swoop!
Cough, aghk!
A muscular forearm snaked around my throat in a flash, and I was knocked out before I had any chance to fight back.
Thick smoke. An area filled with only the sound of artificial gas leaking and yellow smoke.
Son. Do not give up.
And his fathers last words.
It was that dream again. The nightmare that haunted him every night since his father died.
In the dream, his fathers body was melting down from the toxic gas, but his voice was always crystal clear.
Do not give up. You cannot die.
His melting hand wobbled up to my face, then hugged me tight. I knew he was already dead, but I couldnt stop myself from hugging him back.
Promise me you wont die?
Yes.
And you wont do anything stupid?
Yes.
Thats my boy. Do that, and it will be worth sacrificing myself to save you.
Ahh, Father.
Watching Father melt down into a thick bloody gunk and slip through my fingers, I could feel my vision darken again.
.
.
.
.
.
Gasp!
Oh, rookie. Youre a sturdy one, waking up already.
He recognized the voice. It was the same voice as the one he heard just before he lost consciousness. The owner of the voice was a black man in military pants and a white sleeveless shirt with the body of an underground fighter.
He introduced himself as John and explained that this is the 14 Special Ops Unit.
Then, is this a military base?
I want to ask what that pause meant, but Ill pass since I think I know what it is. First of all, we are part of the military. The 14 Special Ops Unit. Im John Abrams, Squad 3 Leader.
I was reminded of my father again at Luwils words. Even in the midst of feeling torturous pain as poison burned down his insides, Father continued to restrain me as I tried to pull off my gas mask to give it to him. I still couldnt understand completely why Father tried so hard to save me. Because at that age, I was still much too young to understand the astronomical concept of a parents love.
But since my life was saved in such a way, I had the idea that I couldnt let it go to waste.
Alright. Ill play too.
If its something that a person that survived long enough to be the Squad Leader in a place where all of the new recruits died has to say, then it should be worth listening to. Lets be friendly with him. Get friendly, and learn how to survive. Manage to survive somehow, and Ill meet Mother again.
Thinking about Mother, I already felt better and could feel the energy getting restored in my body. Mental care. It already felt like I had learned something important.
Great! I like your attitude. Then bet. The games a bet.
A bet? For what?
Grin
Kid. You. How long youre gonna stay alive.
When I looked at the back of the plastic bag that Luwil handed to me, I could see under each squad a list of time spans starting from a couple days to weeks, then the names of the Special Ops members that Im starting to memorize next to them.
So youre betting on when Im going to die?
Heheheheh. Its tradition. Squad 3, the squad youre in right now, are currently the richest guys in 14 Special Ops right now. Since they stole all of your stuff. We obviously cant just sit and watch them enjoy that, so were making a bet. The applying squad calls an all-in to the rookie surviving. And the rest of us we bet realistically.
Whered you bet.
Me? Two weeks. I like that sharp look in your eye. Doesnt look like youre gonna die standing around.
As I was looking at the names written down on the bag, then turned to look at Marti, I saw him staring out to the distance, avoiding eye contact.
Two weeks, you say
I took a look at the betting board again. Compared to the other squads who had a few empty spaces, every single person had written down their bet in Squad 3.
Shepherd : Survive Hehim Chocolate Bar
M.J : Survive One new supply medium tank
Yeti : Survive One new supply underwear
Dorris
Falmur
Liam
.
.
.
.
Chester King : Survive 30g of Blue Mountain coffee beans thats been steeped 12 times
My supplies, that theyve fought over so fiercely to get their hands on, were all listed on the betting items.
And the time span written next to each one were all the same.
[Survive]
We normally treat it as survival when you survive until we finish one operation and move on to the next. This isnt just a small game, you know? The Squad 3 guys bet little things like underwear, but the rest of us are betting things like A dreamy one night with my lover back home or My entire life savings. Personally, I think that this is a steal for the guys in Squad 3. Youre gonna regret it if you dont, kid.
What do I call it? It wasnt touched. The emotion felt oddly tickling, but it wasnt something I could put into words.
Not a bad idea.
Hm? Youre really gonna do it? I was just teasing you.
You said its tradition. As a Natural Born Yugyuo-Man, I cant just ignore traditions like that.1
Taking the pen from Luwil, who was still grinning at him, Gyosu wrote down his name at the bottom of Squad 3.
Gyosu Park : Survive From head to toe, everything I have.
Ha, hahahahahah! All-in! Kid, I like you! This is gonna be a good game, I can feel it! Hahahahahah!
Luwils tanned face widened into a burst of amused laughter.
Standing across from him, Gyosu also had a smile that looked similar to the crooked writing engraved into the crumpled plastic surface.
TL Note : Yugyo, aka. means someone that has strict and conservative views of culture and morals, usually sticking to traditional Asian views on society.