Jobless Man’s Zombie Survival Life - Chapter 82: The Little Survivor

Chapter 82: The Little Survivor

The day after getting swept up in a fashion show, I’m back home.

Miku-chan, still in pajamas with sleepy eyes, saw me off with a cheerful, “Come back soon, okay!”

I waved back as I started the truck, but then it hit me—something’s off.

Am I… turning into one of those single dads on a work transfer?

Nah, more like the worrywart uncle.

Papa’s Atsushi-san, after all.

Sorry, Miku-chan! Your ojisan’s gotta admit, the heaven called home is just too cozy!

“Man, nothing beats my own bed…!”

I flop down, stretching big.

Right, right, I should hit up a bedding store next time.

Maybe hunt for one of those fancy feather comforters I’d never afford normally.

So, today’s my day off.

Well, technically every day’s a day off… but I’ve been working too hard lately.

Why is it that the more I chase the perfect unemployed life, the busier I get?

…Hmm, tough question.

An eternal life dilemma, maybe…

To think I’d stumble on the ultimate question after the world went to hell…

To live easy, you gotta endure the hard stuff… over and over…

Ugh… Ugh…

…What is this? My brain’s getting all tangled up.

Nope, nope! Forget it!!

Days off are for resting!!

That’s the golden rule!!

So, let’s call it a morning nap and chill!

I’ll deal with everything else after I wake up~

Poyashimi na shia…

・

…This damn dream again, huh.

Some gloomy-ass space.

A blood-red sky.

And a horde of undead right in front of me.

…Even a cheapo kusoge has more enemy variety than this.

“It’s your fault.” “Why’d you kill us?” “Go to hell.”

Talk about holding a grudge without getting bored.

Just nonsense ramblings.

Weird… I’m not that stressed, am I?

Is this where guilt or regret’s supposed to crush me?

Guess my mental fortitude’s tougher than I thought.

…Or maybe I’m just nuts.

Hmm, is this some deep psychological self-condemnation dream?

I ponder while kicking an approaching undead.

In manga or movies, this’d be the part where I wake up drenched in sweat, but nah, not happening.

No trauma here either.

So why the hell do I keep seeing this?

…Maybe some god’s showing it to me?

Haha, no way.

If a god exists, the world wouldn’t be this messed up…

Or maybe it’s because they exist. Gods seem like jerks.

I smirk, snapping an undead’s neck.

Thinking complicated stuff even in dreams, huh.

…When’s this gonna end?

Do I have to kill them all to wake up?

※

“…Two refills and I’m awake.”

I yawn, scratching my head.

It’s just before noon… slept about three hours.

Wonder if I’ll see that dream again.

Honestly, it’s less bothersome than grinding dailies in an MMO… for real.

Oh, maybe next time I’ll strategize and practice moves in there.

No risk of dying, so I could test techniques.

Maybe it’s the dream workout, but I’m feeling refreshed.

And hungry.

…Time for a brunch combo.

Might as well watch some anime and eat slow.

Got a ton of recorded stuff I haven’t watched.

Since ongoing shows might never finish, I’ll stick to completed ones.

Nothing worse than a cliffhanger ending driving me nuts.

Munching dry crackers and chugging veggie juice, I watch anime on the side. Meal done.

…This show’s kinda meh.

The protagonist reminds me of that harem jerk Kamimori, and it’s physically painful.

Wonder if that guy’s calmed down since.

Not that I care.

Oota-san seems strict, so if he keeps acting up, he’ll end up like Harada real quick.

…Speaking of, what happened to Harada?

Miyata-san sounded serious, so I hope he handled it.

If that guy bugs me again, I might kill him on reflex, so I’d rather not see him.

I finish my cigarette and think about the day’s plans.

…There’s a bedding store nearby, isn’t there?

Maybe these weird dreams are ‘cause of my bedding.

Didn’t have them at Occhan’s or Yurei.

Might as well check it out.

No plans anyway, so let’s go.

※

I park at the bedding store’s lot.

It’s shared with a laundromat, a convenience store, and a café.

The area around my place has been quiet since that idiot raid.

Zombies pop up occasionally, but no troublesome survivors so far.

I’ve got Molotov cocktails stocked, and the fence is rigged with fishing hook traps.

Anyone dodging nails and grabbing the fence’ll get huge black sea bream hooks in their hand.

I sprayed the hooks with a nicotine liquid I boiled from old cigarettes in a junk pot.

Took every precaution not to touch it.

Some detective’s grandkid used this stuff to kill, so it’ll at least do serious damage.

Considering it might evaporate, I spray it fresh every time I leave.

That should handle any weirdos.

The balcony glass has shatterproof film, and I added a sturdy external lock.

…Any more, and I’ll end up caught in my own traps.

Alright, time to browse.

No signs of looting.

Glass intact, entrance locked tight.

Bedding’s low priority, like game stores.

Still, it’s a shop. There could be staff zombies, so I gotta stay sharp.

…The convenience store next door’s entrance is smashed to bits.

Might as well scout it first.

Maybe there’s cigarettes.

I slip into the convenience store quietly.

The place is trashed.

Bentos and sandwiches are gone, as expected.

Probably rotten anyway, so whatever.

No zombies in sight.

Gotta check the backroom too…

Looks thoroughly picked over—non-perishables are wiped out.

Popular cigarette brands are gone, cartons and all.

Even the lighters are taken.

But my Mandrake is untouched, so I grab it gratefully.

…Being an unpopular brand paid off…

Safety secured, time to hit the bedding store.

I pry open the automatic door slowly, stepping in quietly.

Whoa… So many blankets.

Wanna dig in, but safety first.

…Oh, first zombie spotted.

“…!!”

I leap from cover, thrusting straight at its throat.

With a gokiri crunch, the zombie collapses onto a pile of blankets.

Good. Next… There’s another over there.

“…Hff!!”

I circle behind and slug its head.

It flops forward onto a mattress.

…No noise, nice and easy.

I scour the store and staff break room, confirming no more zombies.

Now I can browse in peace.

…Oho, “ergonomically optimized shape, cradles your head for an unparalleled sleep experience,” huh?

The price is insane—could buy a hundred of my cheap pillows.

Would’ve never bought it before, but it’s 100% off now, so I’ll take it.

Whoa, this blanket’s crazy comfy!!

My current one’s feather too, but this is next-level…

Can’t wait to snooze in this.

What the—this mattress price is… (recoiling)

Could buy a used bike, not just a scooter…?

And it’s so light!?

I can lift it with one hand!?

Science is wild!!

※

Phew, fruitful haul.

I glance at the bedding piled in the truck bed.

Can’t wait to sleep in this.

Since it’s my day off, I’ll head home.

Gotta scout with Kanzaki-san tomorrow.

I don’t care about the search targets, but exploring with her’s fun.

She’s a chill friend and reliable partner… We’re a solid duo, I think. Probably.

I mull over tomorrow’s plans as I open the driver’s door.

…

…?

Did I just hear something?

A zombie?

I freeze, listening closely.

“…N”

There it is.

From behind the convenience store?

Not a zombie.

They’d be roaring “Aaaa!” or “Guaaaa!”

…Might as well check it out.

I move silently, wakizashi drawn.

The sound gets closer.

It’s…

“Hyann! …Hyann!”

Behind the convenience store.

Two dogs.

One’s collapsed, the other’s moving fluffily.

An adult and a puppy.

The adult’s down, not twitching.

The puppy’s active, with a curled, fluffy tail.

Shiba Inu… No, the adult’s size says Mame Shiba.

The puppy notices me, turning its head.

“Hyann! Hyann!”

What a half-hearted bark.

Trying to intimidate?

It inches toward me, like it’s prepping to pounce.

Its little butt’s wagging—cute.

Getting closer, I see the adult dog clearly.

I stop dead.

A lolling tongue.

Closed eyes.

Fresh blood pooling on the asphalt.

And three arrows pierced in its body.

…Hunted?

No, there’s still enough food out there.

I picture the faces of the idiots I’ve sent to their graves.

Probably shot for kicks.

…Makes my blood boil…

Blood trails dot the ground.

Hit somewhere else, escaped here, and gave out?

Only one side has arrows.

Maybe shielding the puppy.

…Its mother?

I see swollen teats.

Definitely a mother…

I step closer, and the puppy blocks me, barking louder.

Then I notice something.

“So, you…”

It’s not a weak bark.

Its voice is hoarse from barking nonstop.

Probably at the dead mother.

Even now, it’s desperately keeping me away.

What a devoted little dog.

More love than most humans.

I pause, thinking.

What to do?

It’s barely six months old.

Left alone, it’ll die soon.

Turning back feels… wrong.

…Why not take it in?

I’m living alone now.

No one to ask permission from.

I always wanted a dog as a kid.

Mom and Dad’s severe dog allergies killed that dream.

Couldn’t keep one in my apartment during my workaholic days either.

I crouch, speaking to the puppy.

“Hey, wanna come with me?”

I meet its eyes, speaking slowly.

It barks for a bit, then quiets, tilting its head.

So cute.

After a moment, it cautiously approaches.

I hold out my hand, palm down.

Heard somewhere that reaching from above spooks them.

It sniffs my fingers, then gives a shy lick.

Ticklish.

I pet its head slowly, and it squints, letting me.

Guess it knows I’m not a threat.

“Good, good. Let’s go home… Gotta bury your mom, too.”

Need a sheet.

I head back to the bedding store, grabbing the priciest one.

Back at the puppy, it’s sitting dutifully by its mother.

“Good kid, guarding Mom, huh?”

I pet it, clasping my hands to the mother.

It’s gruesome, so I gently pull out the arrows.

…All three are deep.

She escaped this far—impressive.

Mothers are tough, huh.

I wrap her in the sheet.

The puppy watches silently.

Does it understand?

That its mom won’t move again?

I carry the mother to the truck.

The puppy trots behind.

Every move’s adorable.

“You’re over here.”

I place the mother in the truck bed, the puppy in the passenger seat.

“It’s okay, we’re going together.”

It barks a bit, maybe thinking we’re separating, but quiets when I show it the bed.

…Puppies are this smart?

I swing by a pet shop on the way home.

Can’t feed it alpha rice, and it needs supplies.

Small store, no animals.

…Good, dead ones would’ve been awkward.

No staff zombies either.

Puppy stuff… Here we go.

I grab all the dry food and cans I can carry.

Never hurts to have extra, and humans can eat it in a pinch, I hear.

I snag a cage, bedding, and a collapsible doghouse.

Pick out some good toys, too.

Oh, a collar and leash.

Can’t let it roam free—it’s dangerous.

Zombies ignore animals, from what I’ve seen.

But humans might target it, like its mom.

“Even Monkeys Can Raise Them! Your First Dog Life!!”

…The title’s worrying, but I grab the training and care book.

What’s a monkey gonna do with a dog…?

“Alright, let’s head home, lil’ buddy.”

It barks “hyann” in reply.

Gotta name it…

And set up the cage…

I muse about our new life, reaching for a cigarette…

Hey! Stop crawling between my legs!

You’ll cause an accident!!