The three young men’s stealthy footsteps finally led them out of the dark shopping alley. After the tense moment of witnessing a giant fish-hybrid zombie at the fresh market, Renjiro, Daiki, and Kazuki arrived at an intersection in the commercial district of old Shinjuku.
On the corner stood a sturdy building with distinctive traditional Japanese architecture. The two-story structure had a thick black-tiled roof, solid carved wooden walls, and a gold kanji sign that looked somewhat faded: Kagemitsu Ancient Weapons and Antiques Shop.
But the three of them came to an abrupt halt behind a row of burned-out delivery vans across the street.
The scene in front of the gun shop was anything but safe. The sidewalk and the shop’s front courtyard were surrounded by roughly fifteen to twenty zombies!
The swollen, muscular monsters were densely covered in coarse, dark fur two to three centimeters long. Some of them were pounding the wooden shutters and iron grilles over the shop’s windows and doors with bloody fists, while others roared hungrily and clawed at the building’s sturdy wooden walls.
*BAM! BAM! BAM!*
The zombie mob’s pounding was constant and brutal, sending a sharp echo along the deserted intersection.
Kazuki pressed his back against the burned van, adjusted the American football helmet enclosing his head, and clamped a full-body Taekwondo kicking pad tightly against his left arm. “There are way too many at the main entrance. The shop’s wooden door and iron grille won’t hold for long if dozens of monsters keep pounding on them.”
Daiki peered through the gap beside the refrigerated truck’s side mirror, sharpening his vision beneath strands of his two-toned hair—yellow and black. “Something’s weird. Why are those zombies only surrounding and pounding on that shop? There has to be a reason they’re gathered in one spot instead of spreading somewhere else.”
Renjiro narrowed his sharp eyes, sweeping his gaze over the second floor of the gun shop.
A wooden window framed with an iron lattice on the shop’s second floor was slightly open. Behind the darkness of the lattice, the shadow of a human figure suddenly shifted slowly!
“Look at the second-floor window,” Renjiro whispered quickly, pointing his steel golf stick upward. “There’s someone inside.”
Daiki and Kazuki looked up in unison.
A survivor was seen cautiously peeking from behind the second-floor window grille. From the silhouette, the figure appeared to be holding a long weapon—a katana or an ancient spear—while anxiously watching the horde of zombies rampaging below the door.
“They’re still alive!” Kazuki exclaimed in an extremely quiet voice, surprise flickering in his eyes. “They’re trapped inside that shop alone!”
“And the zombies below gathered because they caught the survivor’s scent,” Daiki added. “If we don’t act, the iron grille at the front door will definitely break, and they’ll be torn apart.”
Renjiro tightened his grip on the handle of his steel golf stick, analyzing the situation with a cool head and precise calculations. “There are about eighteen monsters in the courtyard. We can’t just recklessly charge straight through to the front door. The main entrance is tightly surrounded, and all we have are golf sticks and a wooden baseball bat.”
“So what’s the plan, Ren?” Daiki asked as he pulled two solid baseballs from his jacket pocket.
“We’ll split their attention,” Renjiro said, a cold, tactical grin etched across his face. “Daiki, use your baseball from the truck’s hood. Hit it into that wrecked police car at the far end of the intersection. The loud impact will lure away half the zombie horde and break their concentration.”
Renjiro glanced toward a secondary wooden door beside the shop, which appeared relatively less crowded by zombies.
“Once their ranks are split,” Renjiro continued, “Kazuki and I will charge the side door, take down the remaining monsters, and signal the survivor inside to open it!”
Daiki and Kazuki nodded firmly. Renjiro’s tactical plan was precise.
Daiki nimbly jumped onto the hood of the refrigerated truck. With his extraordinary eyesight and combat reflexes, Daiki tossed the solid baseball into the air, then swung his wooden baseball bat with all his strength in a professional-grade stroke.
*PAK!*
The solid baseball shot across the intersection like a bullet, striking the siren alarm on the wrecked police car at the far end of the alley!
*WEE-OOOO! WEE-OOOO! WEE-OOOO!*
The police car’s emergency siren suddenly exploded at full volume, sending a deafening echo through every corner of the district!
At the shrill sound from the end of the intersection, the zombies in the gun shop’s courtyard suddenly froze. Their heavily furred heads turned in unison toward the source of the noise. They let out savage roars, and more than a dozen of them scattered from the courtyard, running toward the police car!
“NOW! MOVE!” Renjiro barked.
Renjiro and Kazuki leaped out from behind the truck and charged across the shop’s courtyard, where only five zombies remained!
Kazuki took the lead. With the thick Taekwondo shield on his left arm and his American football shoulder pads, Kazuki slammed into the two zombies closest to the side door.
*BRAMMM!*
Kazuki’s powerful shove sent both zombies flying into the shop’s wooden wall. Without giving them a moment’s pause, Kazuki swung his right fist, his thick leather MMA glove crashing hard into the first zombie’s jaw!
*DUB!*
Renjiro leaped to Kazuki’s right. With the agility afforded by his twin steel golf sticks, Renjiro deflected the third zombie’s claws, slashed with his right golf stick and broke his opponent’s neck, then sent his left golf stick flashing into the fourth zombie’s skull!
*KTAK... BAM!*
The two zombies collapsed in pools of black blood on the sidewalk tiles. Daiki quickly followed from the truck’s hood and swung his hard wooden baseball bat straight into the forehead of the remaining fifth zombie.
*PAK!*
The fifth zombie crumpled, lifeless. In less than a minute, the area around the gun shop’s side wooden door was clear of monsters!
Renjiro struck the handle of his steel golf stick against the side door in a controlled rhythm of three knocks.
“We’re living humans! Open the side door!” Renjiro called in a firm voice kept to a tight whisper.
From behind the secondary wooden door, locked with a thick crossbar, the rasp of an iron latch slowly sliding could be heard. The traditional gun shop’s side door opened a crack, revealing the watchful eyes of a survivor in the darkness inside.