On Hiatus: God's Personal Reasons-Chapter 309: #Side Story: Series Completed but Continued for Personal Reasons (4)

What’s with this kid? Is she a human or a zombie?

His thoughts were cut short.

“Kyaaak!”

With a fierce cry, the girl lunged at the man. His hand, holding the lantern, became bloody.

“Aaaargh!” the man screamed, trying to pull the girl off him, but she didn’t budge.

It-it's a zombie!

He suddenly recalled his wife, who’d turned into one of those flesh-eating monsters, and their child, whom she’d preyed on. The images overlapped with the girl, and an uncontrollable fear seized him. If he were bitten by a zombie, he’d become one as well! Anything but that!

“Aaaargh!”

Clack clack!

Frantically, he pulled on the trigger, but the bullets had long run out, and only the hollow sound of metal knocking echoed.

“Let go! I said let me go, you monster!”

Overcome by fear and anger, the man gripped the axe strapped to his waist. The heavy sound of axe splitting the skull reverberated, and blood splattered across his cheek. Unlike the cold zombie blood, this was still hot.

“Wha...?”

Realization hit him too late, and he went pale with despair.

The child was a human. She was locked in the refrigerator as a desperate measure by her parents—who’d been infected with the zombie virus—to save her from themselves.

Tzzz!

My vision returned to the present.

“Zzz...”

The man watched the girl, who was asleep like an angel. The scar on her forehead, gruesome and raw, peeked through the messy strands of her hair. Although she survived, she was left with that scar and everlasting aftereffects. The man stroked her hair, covering the wound as he hid his face.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry...” The man sobbed, his shoulders shaking violently in regret.

***

Knock knock!

Dozing off, the man’s eyes instantly flung open at the knocks on the door. He approached the door as another series of knocks echoed. Untangling the wire, he opened the door slightly. Instead of the priest, there stood a freckled boy several years younger than the girl.

Was it because I had seen the man's past with my divine eyes? I could feel his shock. It was the first time he’d encountered another human child besides the girl. After all, children were the first to be sacrificed in that doomed world.

“Who are you?”

“I-I am Saint Peter.”

“I’m not asking for your name. Why are you here?”

“The priest said that dinner is ready, and instructed me to escort you and our new friend to the dining hall...” Peter looked up at the man, then the axe in his hand, his brown eyes filled with fear.

“Alright. Lead the way.” The man piggybacked the sleeping girl and followed the boy, who was walking hesitantly.

Besides Peter, there were eleven other children of similar ages in the dining hall.

“Hoho. You’re here.” Still in an apron, the priest showed them their seats. “Please sit here.”

The man sat down, trying to hide his embarrassment.

The priest stared at the kids seated at the table and said, “I’ve prepared a special meal to celebrate the arrival of our distinguished guests. I hope you enjoy it.”

Then, he served the man and the girl first. On the menu was instant soup, meatballs, and biscuits.

Involuntarily, the man’s mouth watered, and so did the children. They stared intently at the food placed in front of the man. After passing the dishes to the other children, the priest sat down at the head of the table.

“Now, let us pray to the Lord for providing us with our daily bread. Who will recite the prayer today?”

The children’s excitement faded like a receding tide.

“Why are all of you so quiet?”

Peter, the boy who led the man to the dining hall, said timidly, “It’s Judas’ turn, Father.”

Silence fell again.

“Hmm, I see. Then I’ll do it today instead.”

The priest began reciting the prayer. The children bowed their heads, hands clasped together. The man and the girl kept their heads stiffly raised, watching what everyone else was doing.

After the prayer had ended, the priest smiled gently and urged the children to dig in. “Come, let’s eat.”

The light clatter of spoons and forks filled the air. However, the man and the girl didn’t touch their plates. He stared intently at his plate.

“What’s wrong? Is the food not to your liking?” the priest asked.

Instead of replying, the man placed the pistol on the table, the barrel pointed at the priest. A silent threat that he wouldn’t tolerate any nonsense. The priest unconsciously gulped. Paying him no heed, the man picked up a fork and slowly chewed on his food.

Meanwhile, the children glanced at the man and the girl next to him. Fear of the stranger, curiosity about the girl, and a subtle hostility all flickered in their eyes. The children left the dining hall as soon as they were finished, as if deliberately avoiding the newcomers.

Now only the priest, the man, and the girl were left in the dining hall. The priest cleared up the dishes while the man fed the child some soup.

“Would you like some coffee?” the priest asked the man.

“No, thank you.”

“What about some black tea?”

“Such extravagance. Is there enough water at all?”

Smiling, the priest turned on the faucet on the sink, and clear water gushed out. “It’s groundwater drawn from thousands of meters below, so it’s clean enough to drink without boiling.”

“Such a wonderful place to live in.”

“Yes, it is. With angelic children like them, it’s like a paradise on earth.”

“Are you the only adult here?”

“Unfortunately, yes. I believe meeting you was a sign from the Lord, and I hope that you will join me in providing a strong foundation for these children.”

The man looked at the priest, and then at the cross hanging around his neck. “May I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“Who is the child named Judas?”

Ever so slightly, the priest’s fingertips trembled.

“He was one of the children here, but he disobeyed instructions and went out the other day, and eventually met with an accident. How tragic it was...!” The priest made the sign of a cross, tears welling up in his eyes.

The man stared intently into the priest’s eyes. His gaze was wild as an animal’s, yet as deep as the bottomless riverbed.

The man stood up. “We’ll leave once the rain stops.”

As he did so, he gripped the chain around the girl’s neck tightly.

***

The relentless rain finally stopped after another week. The man and the girl were having their last dinner at the dining hall. They planned to leave as soon as day broke the next day.

Is he hurt? I wondered.

Unlike before, the man seemed pale, unlike before. He appeared to have lost his appetite and was barely picking at his food with his fork.

“Is the food delicious?”

The girl nodded. She no longer sat with the man, but with the freckled boy, Peter. He received envious gazes from the rest of the children. Although they were still fearful of the man, they’d long become fond of the girl.

Nod nod.

The man’s hollow gaze pierced through the little girl.

She's grown so much prettier, he thought.

In contrast, the girl, who’d been cleaned and showered with the abundant water supply, resembled an angel. She made the world feel a little less like the apocalyptic nightmare it had become. After their meal, the children ran off like a receding tide. The girl followed Peter and another boy out of the dining hall, hand in hand.

Left alone with the man, the priest took a sip of his coffee and asked, “Are you really leaving tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

“It seems like the illness in your mind is deeper than I expected.” The priest sighed and made another sign of the cross.

“This isn't a place for me. I have something else to attend to,” the man replied.

“In that case, I won't hold you back any longer. Still, I have a favor to ask. Will you let the little girl stay with us?”

The man stayed silent.

“The world outside is too brutal for a little girl like her. You only survived until now due to sheer luck. Eventually, you’ll meet your death—either through starvation, or by becoming prey to the zombies. Things are different here. We have food and water that could last for decades. We also have the Lord’s teachings. I beg you, please leave the girl with me.” The priest bowed.

Ignoring his request, the man stood up from his seat and left.

The priest yelled at his back, “In this era of desperation, children are our hope to start a new world! We have the obligation to protect them!”

The man returned to his room, preparing to leave. On the other hand, the girl only returned hours after dinner, escorted by Peter. A small red ribbon was tied to her hair.

The man asked Peter, “Who gave her this ribbon?”

Peter flushed lightly. “I made it for her. Eve seemed to like it too, she was holding my hand tightly.”

“Eve? Who’s Eve?”

Peter pointed to the little girl. “We call her Eve. Does she have another name?”

“...No.”

To the man, she was simply “the girl.” After all, what right did he have to name a child whose parents he’d killed?

Peter glanced at the man. “Then, can I keep calling her Eve?”

“Yes.”

Peter smiled brightly and kissed the girl gently on her cheeks. “Goodnight, Eve. Let’s play again tomorrow.”

Afterward, the boy left, closing the door behind him. He and the other children were unaware that their new friend would be leaving tomorrow.

Having packed his backpack, the man knelt before the girl, peering into her eyes.

“Do you like it here?”

The girl nodded lightly.

“Do you like Peter?”

She nodded again.

He asked a couple more trivial questions, like if the food was delicious, if she wanted to brush her teeth before bed. The girl didn’t respond to questions about washing—her way of saying no.

Lastly, he asked, “Do you... still want to kill me?”

Their eyes met briefly. She nodded.

A self-deprecating smile appeared on his face.

***

At daybreak, the man crawled out of the sewer hole. He struggled pulling his backpack out of the narrow hole for a moment. Unlike when he first came here, he was alone. The girl—or rather, Eve—was still fast asleep in the bomb shelter. He’d decided to leave her behind for her sake.

He’d probably regret his decision. After all, nights without Eve—who’d replaced the role of a dog—would be much longer and more dangerous. He’d also encounter zombies much more frequently.

Still, why did he look more refreshed, as if he’d finally put down a heavy burden?

I followed him quietly, seeing him off.

“Haa... haa...!”

His breath was labored, perhaps from the backpack packed to the brim with food from the bomb shelter, or simply because he hadn’t carried it in a while.

How far he’d walked, nobody could tell. Eventually, he reached a hill on the city’s outskirts, where the surroundings had grown unexpectedly bright. He glanced in the east, where the sun was rising. A massive cross shone brilliantly, enveloped in the light of dawn. It was a church, and the large bell on its tower caught his eye.

“Was that it?”

The miraculous bell that had saved him and the girl from the zombie horde that day. Gently touching the bullet hanging around his neck, the man headed for the bell tower. Despite having lost his faith long ago, he perhaps wanted to see the site of the miracle.

I followed after him.

There might be something worth taking note of.

After all, I still had to perform a miracle for my resurrection quest. However, instead of a miracle, we were only met with a gruesome reality.

“W-what’s this?” The man’s voice trembled.

Whatever happened that day was no miracle. The bell was stained with small, bloody handprints. Below lay the lifeless corpse of a young boy, mangled beyond recognition by the zombies. Even without the divine eye, I could tell what horrific events had unfolded here.

The priest had mentioned a week earlier that the child named Judas had suffered a tragic accident.

“Damn it!”

We hurried back to the bomb shelter known as Eden.