Глава 8

But linking up with the city Infected?

Guess people from the big city really do like to dream a little bigger.

I don't need you mocking me yet, FrostNova.

I'm not mocking you. You're so strong. You've taken all of them a long, long way, just like us.

But it's a dream, going south, trust me.

The guerrilla force grows, but we're Infected.

We don't have many years left... and your alliance would need plenty of years, at least...

And that's precisely why—

Dad?

Ah...

Mr. Patriot?

Patriot sits down by the bonfire. Like Talulah simulated over and over in her mind, Patriot simply sits down, wordless, and gazes into the fire.

You're good. Keep going.

It's precisely because we don't have many years left.

The south has fields of bumper crops, suitable temperatures, four seasons to tell apart, and all sorts of fresh food.

Resources, education, prospects...

And a future.

—Future?

FrostNova, there's every likelihood I know what you're thinking.

What I'm thinking is written on my face. I don't know anything you'd call a 'future.'

We may not have much time left at all. There's only so many places it'd let us set foot.

But the Infected should have a future. For the future Infected, for those who come after us.

FrostNova... we'll find those Infected a home.

Somewhere Ursus and the Infected Patrol Unit won't disturb. Somewhere the Ursus armies can't surround.

And you know for sure, taking the Infected with us would get in the way of the guerrillas' operations. But we won't abandon them.

It'll be a seriously difficult path.

At the very least, what hopes we bring about before we die can be left to others.

And, if we overthrow Ursus's present system over the Infected...

Everything will change.

We're thin on the ground.

If you weren't an Infected, would you shake my hand?

We'd start from a handshake, in that case.

...What you're saying is probably...

Dad? Where are you going?

I've had enough.

Sir...

Hey.

Don't mind it too much.

He was probably just thinking it over.

He's been thinking it over for ages, if so.

It's been two years, and the only conversations we've ever had have been about team composition and following plans. He's never asked me once about anything to do with any project.

Talulah, no matter if he's ridiculing you or opposing you—ah, not that I think he's the type to really ridicule other people—you're still going to wait forever. Am I right, or not?

If we want to leave the tundra, we need the power of the guerrillas. I'll keep at it.

Because he's the hope of the tundra's Infected?

I thought you didn't say things like that. I mean, you never... you don't say things like that, right?

I just want to know what your thought process is like.

...I think—it's because he's the symbol the tundra's Infected unite behind.

A symbol with no way of passing on to the next generation.

Get up! How long are you planning to stay there?

You gave me a chill, you goddamned white rabbit...!

I don't care how stick thin you are, don't tell me this cold front's too much for you!

You sure weren't saying that when you iced these Ursus weapons.

Brothers and sisters, withdraw! Let them follow! Draw out the mine guards!

Just hold on until the Shieldguards can support us! Don't lose hope!

—Pace. Pick it up. Faster. The guerrillas are in place to get the mine guards double-teamed.

How do you figure—wait.

Those strange Originium ornaments. Did the guerrillas arrange those?

Those were set up for my father.

The Ursus army isn't pursuing us anymore. Seems like they're really not a fan of what those entail.

Wait, are... are these some kind of Sarkaz thing?

His Sarkaz ceremony. These two are the best we could make with what we had on hand.

Patriot... is Patriot here?

You said it yourself. You were expecting our team to be surprise-attacked. And if we wanted to annihilate their whole company, of course we'd come up short if we only relied on our squad.

...They're already beginning to rout.

Have you ever seen my father in battle before, Talulah...?

The... him... It's him... Why did none of you s—say... say he was here?!

Retreat! Retreat! Just forget them, forget them!

Wait, hold on! He's coming from the rear? Then what's all this in front of us?

Hello? Hello? ! Say something! Say something!

Until those local troops let loose their violence upon him, the Sarkaz who towered over all others makes no move, nor does he make a sound.

Yet Talulah hears, laced through the north wind of the tundra, something not unlike cries. The shudders of the world itself, its wickedness cowering back, step after step, before the Wendigo.

Patriot stands fast, and casts toward the tundra a long halberd.

And in the gloom of a sky that knows only to devour all life, suddenly, a chasm is cut.