Jobless Man’s Zombie Survival Life - Chapter 9: The Survivors

Chapter 9: The Survivors

Checking my surroundings, I pushed the cart toward the light truck.

It’s parked at the far end of the lot, near the road, easy to spot.

I’m beat and just wanna get home to rest.

※

…Wait, are there more cars now?

A white van’s parked right in front of my truck.

The kind a kidnapper might drive (total bias).

It wasn’t here when I arrived.

I deliberately picked a spot with no cars around, so I’m sure.

Zombies don’t drive, so that’s gotta be a survivor’s.

From here, I can’t tell if anyone’s inside.

I drew my bokken, ready to use, and leaned it against the cart.

I circled the lot widely, approaching the truck from a clear line of sight.

The van’s windows are tinted, making it hard to see inside.

Keeping the van in my peripheral vision, I parked the cart by the truck and started loading supplies into the bed.

So much stuff—home centers are the best.

※

The van’s door opened.

I snapped to face it.

Three guys stepped out.

One’s maybe in his 40s, burly, with a shaved head and tanned skin.

The other two look barely 20, with messy blond hair and multiple piercings.

Like a construction crew.

“Big haul, huh, aniki?” the shaved-head guy said, grinning.

The two blonds glared at me but stayed quiet.

Your lackeys need better manners, Shaved Head.

“Nah, the place was untouched, so I was spoiled for choice,” I replied with a fake smile.

“Smooth relationships start with a genuine smile,” someone once said.

But a fake one’s fine for getting by.

“That’s the spirit! …Any of those monsters inside?” he asked, probing.

“They’re dead all over, but none moving,” I answered honestly.

There’s too much stuff for a few people to hog.

No need for pointless conflict.

“Nice, nice! Thanks, aniki! …Alright, Take, Riki! You heard him—let’s go!”

“Got it!”

“…Yeah.”

Shaved Head turned to the blonds, then headed back to the van.

Probably to grab bags.

Surprisingly reasonable guy.

With the home center a free-for-all, he’s not dumb enough to fight over scraps.

“Hey, ossan,” one of the blonds called out.

The one with less energy in his reply. Take or Riki, who knows.

“…What’s up?” I kept the fake smile.

“Gimme that generator,” he said, jutting his chin at the one I just loaded.

※

Found the idiot! Right here!

Judging by the other blond’s silence, he’s on the same page.

“Nah, there’s plenty more inside. This one’s small anyway…” I said.

“Don’t care. Go get another. I want that one.”

“C’mon, ojisan, you don’t wanna get hurt, right?” They smirked.

Oh, these ape-like humans are real cocky.

Getting looked down on by punks probably a decade younger, raised with no manners, pisses me off.

Sales mode’s off.

In normal times, maybe I’d let it slide, but in this mess, I don’t owe these scumbags anything.

This is my hard-earned haul.

I’d rather burn it with gasoline than give it to these jerks.

Don’t mess with me!

I raised my bokken—stained red-black from zombie gunk—slowly to high stance, showing it off.

Rested it on my shoulder.

Even zombie-brained idiots like them could tell why it’s that color, and they visibly flinched.

This bokken’s big and intimidating too.

“Don’t make me laugh, you little shits… One step closer, and I’ll crack your skulls and squash you like bugs!”

Unlike zombies, humans take damage anywhere you hit.

Young or not, these two are easier than the nine zombies I took out.

Their clear malice makes them easier to hit than zombies.

What a breeze—almost funny.

I glared, loosening my body for action.

I said I’d go for the head, but that’s a lie.

I’ll crush their wrists or shoulders.

Let them writhe and rethink their lives.

“W-what… it was a joke…”

“Read the room, man…”

They’re clearly backing off, but I stayed sharp.

Kept glaring silently.

Their language is trash too.

A good whack might fix that.

“You can’t even talk right, you—”

“Hey!! Take! Riki!! What the hell are you doing!?” Shaved Head yelled, running over with a huge backpack, cutting off my epic threat. Kinda sad.

“Senpai…! This ossan just—”

“These two brats demanded my generator. Their joke wasn’t funny, so I was about to give a sharp comeback,” I cut in, keeping my stance.

Shaved Head might not be on my side.

“You idiots!!” he roared, face red, smacking both blonds’ heads.

Solid, heavy punches. That’s gotta hurt.

They crumpled, groaning.

“Sorry, aniki! My boys caused trouble…” he said, bowing.

“No worries, no harm done,” I replied with a grin, still in stance.

I’m not letting my guard down till they turn away.

“Thanks for letting it slide, aniki… C’mon, you morons! Stop whining and move!” Shaved Head kicked their butts, forcing them up.

Nice, snappy kicks.

This guy’s got martial arts training. Striking style.

Karate, maybe?

“Senpai, that hurts…!” “I’m up, I’m up…!”

“Quit yapping, you trash! Move it!!” he barked, herding them off.

I exhaled, lowering my bokken.

“Sorry again, aniki! I’m Ishikawa from the Kijima crew! Drop by if you’re in the area!” he called from a distance.

“Thanks for the courtesy! I’m Kinoshita, local guy! No big deal!” I shouted back.

Fake name, obviously!

Ishikawa-san seems decent, but no way I’m giving those punks my real info.

I watched them enter the home center, then loaded the rest of my stuff into the truck bed.

Time to go.

※

…Dealing with living people is way more tiring than zombies…

I lit a cigarette and started the engine.