A constant mechanical hum pulled Leon from the darkness.
He opened his eyes abruptly, his hand going straight for the Glock in its holster before his brain even registered where he was. A sharp stab of pain shot through his abdomen, making him grunt and freeze his movement.
Leon took a few deep breaths, waiting for the acute pain to subside into something bearable. He checked his wounds over the improvised bandages. His arm was better; the claw wounds had already started to close, forming hard scabs. When he moved his shoulder, it hurt, but it was tolerable.
His abdomen was another story. The horizontal cut was still tender, throbbing whenever he moved too quickly. It would take a little longer to heal completely.
But overall, he was much better than he should have been. Hours ago, he could barely stand.
He looked through the panoramic window of the Control Room. The world outside was still plunged in the darkness of night. The rain had stopped, but the sky was covered in heavy clouds that blocked the moon.
"I wasn't out that long."
He got up with effort, holding onto the side of the console to keep from swaying. That's when he realized. The floor was level. The boat was no longer tilted.
He opened the System interface.
[Assimilation Complete]
[Elapsed Time: 2 hours and 57 minutes]
[Hull Integrity: 100%]
[Electrical Systems: Restarted]
Leon frowned. If the assimilation took almost three hours and was already complete, then he had been unconscious for much longer than he'd thought.
Another rumble came from below, followed by the rhythmic, heavy noise of industrial pumps working. Leon left the control room and followed the sound down the corridor. When he got near the staircase leading down to the engine room, he understood.
The pumps were draining the water that had flooded the bilge. The noise was loud and constant. In a normal situation, he'd be worried about attracting unwanted attention.
But when he stopped to listen, he realized the Yacht Club wasn't exactly quiet.
Sporadic gunfire echoed in the distance. Shouts. Roars from the infected. Every now and then, a muffled explosion. It seemed some survivors had also realized that at night the infected were slower and more vulnerable.
Or at least that's what Leon had thought before encountering that Variant.
He leaned on the handrail of the stairs, thinking. The infected were evolving. Too fast. It hadn't even been a full day since they first appeared, but he'd already found a creature completely different from the others.
Leon remembered the mall guard. He was also stronger than the common infected, though not as much as the Variant on the boat. But he seemed to be evolving too. Maybe Leon hadn't let the transformation finish, and that's why the System had collected less energy.
He began thinking about what the two had in common.
The darkness.
Both were in dark places when Leon found them. The guard was in the underground gallery. The Variant was in the interior corridor of the boat, far from any windows.
But that didn't make sense. The infected became frenzied under sunlight, faster and more aggressive. And in the darkness, they evolved? If that were the case, humanity was lost. They had no weakness.
Leon shook his head. Not all infected had evolved, even in the darkness of the gallery or the boat. So there had to be another factor. Length of exposure? Amount of viral load? Some specific genetic condition?
He didn't know.
And it was no use racking his brain with questions he couldn't answer now. There were more urgent things.
Now that he knew even the night wasn't completely safe, he needed to accelerate his plans. Get supplies, improve the vessel, make it self-sufficient as quickly as possible.
Leon returned to the control room, pulled a nautical chart from the console's side drawer, and spread it out on the table. It was a detailed map of Monleciti, the capital of Tubar Province, a port city with about 2.3 million inhabitants.
He spread the map on the navigation table and studied it.
The city was divided into three main areas: the Coastal Zone, the artificial island of Porto Prisma where he was now, and the archipelago of smaller islands to the south.
Leon mentally marked the important points.
He needed an industrial desalinator and water purifiers if he wanted unlimited drinking water. That equipment was at the Water Treatment Center on the shoreline, on the mainland, near the commercial port.
He also needed hydroponic greenhouses or at least the components to build one. He had no gardening skills, but it was better to have them than not. Fresh food would eventually be more valuable than gold. That kind of equipment would be at the Agricultural Market in the Southern Zone or in the warehouses of the Marine Research Institute.
Fuel would be critical. The Bering consumed more diesel than the Parker. He needed to stock up, and fast. There was a nautical fueling station still within Porto Prisma, less than two kilometers from where he was.
And construction materials. Metal, electronics, tools. For that, he'd have to go to the abandoned shipyards in the Industrial Zone or loot the storage areas of the larger yachts still anchored at the club.
Leon ran his finger over the map, calculating routes and distances.
His current position was at the northern tip of Porto Prisma. He was relatively isolated, but also surrounded. To get out of there, he'd have to navigate through the inner bay or risk the open channel.
He decided to start close. It made no sense to go straight to the city center, where the concentration of infected would be absurd. Better to clear the surroundings first, gain energy, unlock abilities, and strengthen the boat.
His next objective would be the High Tide Nautical Depot, less than a kilometer to the south, still within the club area. According to the map, it was a warehouse for yacht parts and equipment. Perfect for testing the Deconstruction ability he had just unlocked.
Leon folded the map and put it away. He went to the control panel and placed his hand on the bluish metal plate.
[Vessel: Valkyria II]
[Systems: Operational]
[Start Engine?]
He confirmed mentally.
The engine roared to life, but it was different now. It wasn't just the sound of burning diesel. There was a deep hum underneath, as if something electrical was pulsing along with it.
Leon accessed the undocking command.
On deck, hydraulic locks opened with a hiss of pressure, releasing the mooring lines that held the boat to the dock. Then, the automatic winches spun with a powerful electric buzz, reeling in the lines and pulling the anchors from the muddy bottom with an ease the old engine never could have managed.
The Valkyria II vibrated slightly, free from solid ground, floating loose and ready to sail.
He gripped the helm and was about to push the throttle when he stopped.
Something was wrong.
He had the feeling he was forgetting something. He looked around the control room, checking if he'd left anything behind. Gun, backpack, medical kit. Everything in place.
Then he remembered.
The woman.
"Damn."
He had locked her in one of the cabins and completely forgotten she was there.
Leon dropped the helm and left the control room. He followed the corridor to the cabin where he'd locked the woman.
Leon turned the key in the lock and pushed the door open.
He expected to find her sitting on the bed, crying or maybe planning some ridiculous ambush. Instead, when the door opened, he found the woman sprawled face-down on the floor, with her face pressed into the synthetic carpet.
Leon stopped in the doorway, his hand still on the knob, looking at the scene with a raised eyebrow.
"What are you doing?"
She groaned and rolled onto her side with difficulty, using her shoulders since her hands were still firmly bound. She spat out a strand of hair that had gotten into her mouth and looked up, her face red with embarrassment and pain.
"I was lying on the bed," she said, her voice muffled because she was still half-face-down on the floor. "I heard footsteps outside and got up fast. But with my hands tied, I couldn't catch my balance and... fell."
She shot an accusatory look at her bound wrists.
"It's hard to balance without your arms, you know?"
Leon kept looking at her. He said nothing, but his expression shouted: You are an idiot. It was a look of contempt mixed with disbelief, as if he were assessing whether she'd survive five minutes outside that cabin.
The woman noticed the silent judgment. She furrowed her brow, the embarrassment giving way to irritation.
"Don't look at me like that. You're the one who tied me up, remember?"
Leon didn't answer. He just kept looking at her, trying to decide what to do. An uncomfortable silence settled in the small cabin.
He didn't really know what to do with her. He had no reason to keep her on the boat. He didn't know her, he couldn't trust her. And he definitely didn't want to carry any dead weight with him.
But before he could say anything, she spoke, her words coming out fast and desperate, as if she'd read his intention in his eyes.
"I know where it came from."
Leon frowned. "You know where what came from?"
She stared at him, still on the floor, but her eyes were firm now.
"The infection. I know where it came from."
Leon stood still. He hadn't expected that answer. The mystery of how it had started, where the rain had come from, why people were turning into monsters the answer was right there, in front of him, lying on the floor of a cabin on his vessel.
"What's the source?"
She saw the change in his posture. The indifference had vanished, replaced by interest. And she knew that was her only bargaining chip.
"Before I tell you, I want you to promise you'll help me."
Leon crossed his arms. "With what?"
"I need you to take me safely to the Marine Research Institute."
Leon gave a small smile and nodded.
"Alright."
"Done? Just like that? No negotiating? No making demands?" She was expecting to have to beg, or offer more information in exchange.
What she didn't know was that Leon had already planned to go to that place. The Marine Research Institute was on his list. It had equipment he needed, probably hydroponic greenhouses, labs with purified water. Taking her along would be no extra work.
"I said I'd take you," Leon responded, and crouched down in front of her, coming to eye level. "I keep my deals. Now, your turn."
He pulled a combat knife from his belt. She flinched instinctively, but Leon just flipped the blade and cut the ropes binding her wrists in one quick, precise motion.
"Talk," Leon ordered, sheathing the knife as she massaged her marked wrists. "What is the origin of the infection?"