Two minutes earlier.
The boss who led the team to the supermarket, and the one who had blocked Riku from the road now stood in front of the one who was calling the shots. They were in the seventh floor executive suite.
The man behind the desk radiated authority the moment anyone set eyes on him. His face was carved with harsh lines, hardened by years of violence and command. A jagged scar cut across his left cheek, trailing down to his jaw like a permanent reminder of a battlefield that had tried—and failed—to take him. His eyes burned gold-brown, sharp and calculating, the kind of gaze that stripped men down to their souls.
He wore a tight-fitting military t-shirt stretched across his broad chest, the fabric straining against the mass of muscle beneath. His forearms were thick, corded with veins, the skin rough with callouses. Combat pants, faded from use, clung to his legs, and black boots planted firm on the carpet gave him the look of a soldier who had never stopped marching even after the world had ended.
Two girls, strikingly beautiful despite the terror in their eyes, sat across his lap. Their delicate hands traced over his chest and shoulders at his command, their movements more like that of captives than lovers. He leaned back in the chair, one arm draped possessively around them, the other resting casually on the desk.
"Yamada," he finally spoke with a deep voice. "I have heard the news of you scavenging the supermarket you mentioned. You have done a great job securing the food and supplies there. According to my logistics officer, that would last us three months."
"No need to thank me sir, I'm just doing my job," said Yamada.
The boss licked the cheeks of the woman who was sitting on his right leg while he fondled the thigh of the other on his left leg.
"I also learned that you have taken a lot of women there from that camp, and they are beautiful I presume?"
"They were high-schoolers but they are ripe for the picking I must say," he grinned. "However, the men were already having fun with them."
"It's fine if they do that, we have to keep the morale of our military up," he said. "You killed every man you found there right?"
"Of course, that's a given. Most of them are weaklings and I see no use of keeping them alive but…" he paused, recalling the encounter of him and the mysterious man in an armored car.
"What is it?"
"There is this survivor, driving an armored car. We managed to intercept him in the intersection by broadsiding him with a truck. But as we were about to check on that survivor, zombies appeared everywhere. We left it."
"For you to bring it up, do you think it's a concern for us?"
"I don't think so, and he seemed like alone. However, I believe that survivor is connected with the supermarket camp. He was heading towards it when we chased him."
"Well, no need to worry about it," the boss said, squeezing the legs of the girl sitting on his left leg and then wedging it in between.
The girl on his left stiffened under his touch, her eyes darting toward Yamada and the other officer as though pleading for help. Neither man moved. Neither dared. The boss's scarred face twitched with a smirk, as if he savored her silent terror.
"You see, Yamada," the boss said, his thumb pressing lazily against the inside of the girl's thigh, "the old world is gone. People waste time clinging to morality, to laws, to ideals that no longer hold any power. But here—" he gestured broadly to the luxury suite turned den of wolves, "—power is simple. We take what we need. We keep what is ours. And we break what resists."
The girl flinched as his hand slid higher, but she forced herself not to scream. He liked it more when they screamed.
"Yes, sir," Yamada said, bowing his head slightly. "The men know this well. Their loyalty is strong. The girls… well, they'll get used to it."
The boss chuckled darkly, leaning down to plant a kiss on the neck of the trembling model. "They always do. First they cry. Then they beg. Then they learn their place. These plums rely on us for their survival. If they don't do us any favor, we'd let them be eaten by zombies. Tell me woman, do you want to be eaten by me or those zombies?"
The girl on his lap froze, her lips trembling as tears welled in her eyes. She shook her head weakly, too terrified to answer. The boss's grin widened, exposing teeth that looked more like a predator's than a man's.
"Thought so," he murmured, dragging his calloused hand up her thigh until she whimpered. He tilted her chin with his scarred fingers, forcing her to meet his eyes. "That's fear. That's the truth of this world now. Fear keeps you alive… and keeps you obedient."
The other girl, on his right, turned her face away, silently sobbing. His arm tightened around her waist like a steel band, pulling her closer until she choked back her cries.
But then—
WHUMP-WHUMP-WHUMP.
A low vibration rattled the glasses on the desk. The candle flames quivered, shadows twisting across the suite. The boss's grin faltered. Yamada's head snapped toward the curtained window, eyes narrowing.
"Sir…" he whispered, a bead of sweat trailing down his temple. "That… that's no storm."
The sound grew louder. Heavier. A mechanical growl that shook the very walls.
The boss slowly stood, scarred face darkening.
"…That's a helicopter."
The boss stood, causing the two girls to drop on the floor. He walked over towards the door and saw the helicopter from a distance. Despite it being night time, he could tell from the silhouette that it wasn't an ordinary helicopter. It was an attack helicopter, and it doesn't match the profile of Japan's Kawasaki OH-1.
"What the hell is that?" Yamada, who already walked over to the window too and stood next to the boss.