"I refuse, Sir. I will turn in my resignation letter tomorrow, and maybe my replacement would agree."

"132 men. That's how many who have died under your command, Major General Kim."

Major General Kim stopped.

"General, you might be my superior, but if you mention that one more time-"

"You know as much as I do that our country's victories in mission comes with regular deaths in the battlefields, outside or inside our vicinities. And you think the government will let your replacement maintain that 20% retreat rate?"

"The 20% mostly come from international affairs, Sir, where our country provides help to other countries in need. I see no urgence to sacrifice our men for such causes."

"Exactly, but do you think the others will think the same as you? I'm willing to bet, your replacement will never call in a retreat if half of the unit is still alive. Our country might be powerful, but we also gain a lot of that influence from helping others and building international relationships. And with the growing population and talent, I don't see why your replacement wouldn't-"

"Cain's an exception, Sir-"

"But you do find him, right? And your unit's performance rose up the ranks? Your missions will decrease yes, but they will get more dangerous. So, why would you outright reject the national lab's offer on enhancing your men's chance of survival?"

Major General Kim bit his lip.

"I accept the offer. But just to some men."

He walked into his office and distributed shuffled cards to the fifty-two men. Please don't be, please don't be.

"Those who get non numbers, raise your cards."

Cain raised an Ace.

Major General Kim's heart missed a beat. Forgive me, kid.

Cain swung his hand again. Blood splattered everywhere.

"Hey, above you!"

The man swung his hammer, slamming the zombie's head, but the zombie rose again. Cain lunged forward.

"You have to smash it completely!"

He stabbed the zombie dead and dodged right before the wall behind him fell.

"Run back, run back! To the house!"

Zombies pour down. They ran across the train station and leapt down the bridge, forcing their legs to run as fast as they could.
First, dying by getting chewed on seemed like a horrible death.
Second, they are sure that this man, who look less like a priest every passing second, would never wait for them if they every trip.

Cain frowned.
The zombies can coordinate in herds and are harder to kill than he thought.
Rapid tissue generation.
Disabling the leg, they'd resort to their arms.
Aim for the heart, they don't need blood.

Cain twirled his knife.
They don't react to pain, but still depend on the brain.
The brain. Brainstem. Motor cortex. Basal ganglia.
Maybe… spinal cord too?

He swung his knife but could barely make a graze on the spinal cord. His knife splintered into pieces. He frowned and stabbed them with the edges instead.
Do they have stronger bones than humans? Well given how they throw over brick walls, it makes sense.
A brick wall won't survive against a horde more than hours. A strong metal barricade might last for a full day.

They snuck into the street and finally reached the church's house. The men fell to the ground. Cain wiped his knife. Juan handed him a drink.

"How is it?"

"As I thought, we must move. Once they sense our presence, they'd break this house down. And we know the bigger the group, the more they are likely to sense us."

"Can't we hold down the house?"

"No. If we're in a remote area, maybe, but we're in the metropolis with endless zombies. Even if we evacuate to the upper floors and the zombies won't be able to climb up, they might all swarm into a frenzy and break the foundation."

Mutters filled the room.
What should they do? Do they have a place in mind? What happens if this place fall down? Will they die?

"No. You just need to run to the next building and hide there, then go to the next building when that gets destroyed too."

The room got even more panic.

"Can't we uhm maybe flee to a permanently safer place?"

A permanently safer place?
Cain stared at the map. Well… there are ports there… airport here and here… but judging by the situation, they probably have collapsed.

"Ok so for those of you who wanted to go to the airport, take this route, for port, that r-"

"You're not coming?"

"Nah." Cain shrugged. The military are probably out there looking for him and even if they made it across the border, who knows if the zombies haven't spread there too?

Juan stared at Cain. He's terrible!

"Can't you at least try??"

"I'm not gonna try crossing the border, Ju-"

"Then somewhere within the border? Anywhere??"

Cain thought.
The cities in the middle are out of the question, the remote ones would be hard for supplies…

His hand paused.
A city by the desert, right at the edge of the metropolitan line.

"I… have a place in mind."

"Where? Where?"

"… but… it's a personal place. I'm not sure if people would like it-"

"We'll take a vote!"

Maybe Cain should have said no. He stared at the room full of people, looking at him with fear, hope, trust that he'll lead them somewhere safe alive.
And their looks, forever, will be imprinted into his mind.

The days went by. The groups started moving, led by Cain. He had mapped out the usual rotations of the zombies and their behaviours – with a streak of luck and care, they should be fine.
That is, until the last group came up.
A kid wandered off.

Cain was already tired or perhaps felt a little too safe, that he didn't keep a head count throughout the trip. They only realized he was missing when they got near the post.
The kid's dad begged Cain to let him search for his kid. Cain reluctantly agreed, making sure the rest of the group entered their safe house and walked with him. It didn't take long before they found the kid in the wrong alleyway. They fought off the horde chasing him and ran back. Now, Cain noticed that both the kid and the father sustained a bite mark, but he hesitated.
If what he theorized was true, why haven't he transformed yet while his peers had?

"Hide them," he said, "I'll stay the night and see if you transform."

But the others found out soon anyways.

"What else keeps you from deciding? We saw ourselves that the bitten would turn into zombies!"

"They haven't transformed yet. We can't be sure."

"Then, are you waiting for them to bite us? You might be physically strong, but there's no telling when they'll turn and if you'll be able to stop them before they attack us! Are you valuing our lives as less?"

The others rallied in agreement.

"Yeah, ALL people who get bitten transform!"

"Kill them! If we only put them in the next room, they might find a way in!"

Cain stroked his forehead in annoyance. Find a way in? From where? Jumping out the window?
He turned to the father and child. The father was embracing his kid. The kid begged him not to shoot.

Cain closed his eyes.

There was a kid sitting in the dark.
A supervisor would drag him out, and say, "Fire!"
If he refused, bruises, wounds, and burns in his body would add up, and his rib cage would bulge.
If he missed, his ribcage would bulge.
If he hesitated, the man would slap his cheeks swollen and eyes shut.
So he did, because what else would he do?
If he sniped at his own will, the man would say, "Good job!" and return him to the dark room, where he slept, blurring away the faceless strangers.
It was like that – if he wasn't firing, he was eating, sleeping – sometimes talking to other kids. Before he knew, he was able to fire at any spot, no matter how fast the target was moving, and now more men would gather around him just to watch the talent of a kid they heard.
Then one day, they asked the kid to shoot a father and a child hostage. The child cried hard. The father said nothing, but his eyes were filled with – plea. Too close to be blurred away in his sleep. "Fire," the supervisor said.
The kid grabbed his rifle, shaking, and turned the nose towards the supervisor.

Cain opened his eyes.
The kid pulled the trigger.

He pulled the trigger.

"Sorry."

And with a gunshot, their group went down to 199. The rest passed in a blur. Was he too exhausted? He didn't know. He didn't even know how he could get through all the zombies back to his post.
All he muttered was "he's dead, he's dead, we're down 1."

But Juan understood everything.

"That final destination – you know where it is for sure, right?"

"Yes," Cain closed his eyes, "the orphanage."