Shattered glass flew everywhere, accompanied by a low growl!
Chapter Five: Pistol
"ROAR!!!!"
After a flurry of hurried footsteps, I stared blankly as the zombie that had burst out through the window fell downward in slow motion, just like in a movie.
And I even locked eyes for a moment with the zombie, whose eyes were as red as a rabbit's.
Though it only felt slow, the zombie was actually falling pretty fast. In just a few seconds,
I heard a dull thud!
"Thump!"
I didn't know what came over me, but I waved at the direction the zombie had fallen, murmured "Amitabha," and then
turned back to look at the window above.
"Is that all of them?"
Ahem... Yes, that really was all of them.
Once I was sure there wouldn't be any more zombies jumping out of windows—a truly bizarre possibility—I used the bundle in my hands to sweep the windowsill.
A dozen or so pieces of broken glass clattered down.
When I no longer felt any glass falling, I tied the bundle back onto myself, gathered my strength, and lowered my center of gravity a little.
Then I sprang up with both feet.
"Yah!!"
I also wondered why I'd yelled "Yah!" instead of something like "Hah!" Perhaps it was because my throat was built differently.
I felt that making a sound this way helped me exert myself more effectively.
Fortunately, I managed to reach the window frame and grabbed it tightly.
After a great deal of effort, I finally climbed inside. Standing on the windowsill, I looked at the shattered glass scattered across the floor, then at the slipper that had fallen off when I climbed up just now.
I'd had to put too much force into it.
I had no choice but to jump down to a spot a little farther away.
With a smack, my two bare feet landed on the tiled floor. Fortunately, my sense of balance—
"Ah!" Just as I thought that, I suddenly lost my balance and landed on my butt!
"Hisssss... What kind of balance is this? Top-heavy and bottom-light!"
I sucked in a sharp breath and looked down at the two lumps of flesh on my chest, muttering under my breath.
I got up, dusted myself off, and looked around. The room was still just as unremarkable: two hospital beds and all the standard amenities of a private room, including a television and a clock.
By the moonlight, I glanced at the clock. Good, it was electronic, and it was still displaying the correct time.
02:22
"Is it half past two?"
I couldn't help murmuring as I looked down. What to do next was troubling me.
Leaving now... would be dangerous. Although my eyesight had returned to the point where I no longer had any nearsightedness, and I could see clearly even at night, nighttime still had its inconveniences.
Then...
"Does that mean I can only wait until daylight to leave?"
At the thought, I looked around. The ward door was closed, and there were traces of blood on it... "What's that?"
Suddenly, on the red-and-white door, I spotted something that shouldn't have been there.
To make sure, I hurried over, bent down, and reached out to gently touch that... little hole.
It was roughly at waist height. And looking at the splintered wood around it, shattered by the force of the impact, my heart jolted.
"Is this... a bullet hole?"
It really did look like a bullet hole.
Thinking this, I looked behind me. There was no other damage. As I thought it over, I recalled some explanations of bullet kinetic energy I'd once seen online.
According to the laws of mechanics, when a bullet entered an object, its tremendous penetrating power meant it would only make a small hole.
But after the bullet exited the object, it would cause much greater damage.
Simply put, if a bullet entered a person's chest and passed through their body, exiting through their back, the wound would definitely be small in the front,
while the bullet would tear away a chunk of flesh nearly the size of a bowl from their back.
Following that reasoning... I felt around the bullet hole. Aside from a few shattered splinters, there was only one obvious little hole.
Judging by that, then this room...
"Has a gun?!"
I suddenly snapped to attention. I remembered the zombie that had burst out through the window just now. When I'd looked into its eyes for an instant, I thought I'd caught a glimpse of the person's clothes.
"That must have been... a police uniform, right?"
It was hard to make out colors clearly at night, but in the moonlight I'd seen the person's clothes, even if only for a moment.
They'd definitely been dark. If the person had really been wearing a dark blue police uniform, then...
"His gun must still be in the room!"
At that thought, I hurriedly turned to look at the floor. There were no bullet holes and no firearm, only a trail of bloody footprints.
Following the footprints, I went straight to a hospital bed. The sheets were a mess, and there were traces of blood on them.
It looked as though after running in from outside and shooting at the zombie, the person had made their way to this bed with their injured body and lain down.
Judging by the situation, the person's injury was probably on their leg. The bullet hole was at my waist, roughly a meter twenty or thirty off the ground.
So the person had either fired while standing or while sitting.
If they'd been standing, the zombie on the other side should have been lying on the ground, and the person would have had to look through the glass to shoot it accurately.
But the bullet hole clearly angled upward.
In other words, the person must have rushed into the room, shut the door, and then sat on the floor because of their leg injury.
They'd aimed the gun at the door and, relying on experience, killed the zombie with a single shot, almost firing blind.
As for why it had died in one shot...
If the zombie outside were still alive, would you have the nerve to lie down on a bed for a while?
"Going by that reasoning..."
I looked at the bedside table. Its three drawers held nothing but tissues and a cup.
So...
I shifted my gaze to the bed stained with black blood and reached out to feel around.
Just as I touched the other side of the bed, a cold, hard sensation suddenly met my palm.
My heart leaped. I looked straight at the object, and sure enough...
It was a pistol. That shape...
I racked my brain for a while before the name of the pistol suddenly came to me.
"Type 64 pistol!"
I remembered seeing it in passing while looking up material for a novel. But what surprised me was how incredible my memory had become.
I mean, back in the day, I'd even wondered if I should go to the hospital to get checked for early-onset dementia.
"Could this be another perk of looking like this now?" As I thought about it, I couldn't help touching my chest.
But then I suddenly felt awkward in every possible way. I'd meant to entertain myself a little, but that only made the sadness well up even more.
I shook my head, and my long hair swayed back and forth with the motion.
As I thought it over, I suddenly remembered the unopened fruit knife I'd seen in the bedside table drawer.
I set the pistol on the bed, turned around, and pulled open the drawer.
Sure enough, in the second compartment, there was a fruit knife about ten centimeters long.
Without hesitation, I tossed my head to the side, just like a woman flipping her hair after washing it, then picked up the small knife and started cutting my hair.
As I cut it, a thought crossed my mind...
Does this look too girly?
"Snip!"
My long hair fell with a single cut. At the same time, I lowered the knife.
The next second, something that left me utterly astonished happened!
My hair! No, it was debatable whether this even counted as hair in the first place.
As for why it shocked me...