Spring is a chaotic season.

For students, it’s the season when a new semester begins, meeting new peers, and for those entering school, it’s the season of new beginnings. For college students, it’s when the job-hunting season gradually approaches, and for plants, it’s a competitive season to spread roots and fight for survival.

While others talk about flowers blooming, warmth, new beginnings, and the end of winter, I sometimes felt spring as a season of confusion and tension.

I sat quietly in a chair, looking at the tightly closed window.

“Summer…”

The most chaotic spring I’ve ever experienced is coming to an end. The spring of the apocalypse brought by our chairman, a spring where those who couldn’t adapt to the new beginning died.

Seeds that fell behind in the survival competition died without sprouting, and the plants that somehow survived grew lushly, bringing a summer of battling nature.

Drought, floods, typhoons, pests, beasts, competitors, zombies…

Sweat formed on my forehead like cold sweat. It was hot. Due to a power outage, I couldn’t turn on the air conditioner or fan, and I couldn’t open the window for fear of mosquitoes.

Even pressing an ice pack from the fridge against my neck didn’t easily dispel the heat.

‘It’s a season ripe for murder.’

Heat makes people violent. Add humidity, and it gets worse. In fact, violent crimes increase in summer.

It’s truly the season of war. The season where the survivors win.

I stroked a new hammer. The heavy, cold touch of steel. Anyway, I’ve done almost all the preparation I can. If problems arise, I’ll just have to deal with them as they come.

***

“Are the drains cleaned?”

“Yes, all visible drains have been cleaned.”

People from Villa Street were out, moving their bodies diligently. In preparation for heavy rain, all visible drains were cleared of trash, and Park Yang-gun extracted oil from unused cars and stored it in containers.

Also, someone made Molotov cocktails with that oil, and someone took surplus oil or non-essential resources to the market to exchange for butane gas or bleach.

At first glance, it seemed like excellent preparation, but the situation wasn’t entirely favorable.

The uncle approached the market team who had just returned with a stern face.

“…Why are only you guys back?”

“Well.”

The people who had gone to the market with large bags bowed their heads. One person didn’t return. Even those who came back had masks soaked with sweat and were gasping for breath.

A trembling, exhausted hand pointed beyond the street.

“Zombies. We were attacked. We couldn’t save him, couldn’t even grab the bag.”

“The zombies are in the commercial district—”

“No. There are more zombies on the streets.”

It seems the zombies from the commercial district are coming out to the streets. I clasped my gloved hands and looked up at the sky.

A sky covered in dark clouds. Subtly humid and hot air. A dangerous season, but surviving it naturally brings benefits.

‘One less mouth to feed since someone died. We’ll have to redistribute that person’s resources.’

The resources in the dead person’s house are still resources.

But the uncle seemed to think of something else, tightly gripping the trash picker in his hand.

“Did someone lure them?”

“No way. It’s just, there are many zombies. Many. We can’t roam around anymore.”

“…Did you lose the zombies?”

The complexion of the returned person turned pale.

We quickly turned to look at the path they had come from and spotted a protruding head.

It was a zombie. The zombie hid behind a building, only its head peeking out, watching us. Its sharp, grinning mouth corner seemed to smile faintly.

The zombie checked our territory. Few in number, poorly armed. The zombie’s head slid back behind the building. Probably to bring more zombies.

The uncle gritted his teeth.

“You should have taken a detour! Coming straight back here—”

“No, what else could we do! The streets are full of zombies! There’s no way around!”

Facing a dangerous situation, people started shouting and fighting.

Already hot, and working hard in heavy clothes, the anger felt like it was boiling over. The thin thread of reason snapped.

The uncle’s face turned red as he tried to shout something, but the next moment, he calmly looked at the returned people. A familiar glint of suspicion flashed.

Perhaps, he thought, did these guys deliberately kill one to reduce mouths to feed, or are they human sacrifices for Villa Street, or are they agents luring zombies? All sorts of suspicions seemed to arise.

The uncle hid his suspicions as usual.

“It’s not the time to fight among ourselves. Let’s quickly prepare to deal with the zombies—”

“Wait! What about our kids! They went to school, what if something happens on their way back!”

This time, it was the kid’s mom. The mom, seemingly out of her mind, grabbed the uncle’s sleeve with dilated pupils and collapsed.

The street is dangerous, so she’s worried about the kids going to school, but the uncle irritably shook her off.

“Sigh… The school is safer than here, so think about protecting here first.”

“But—”

As the kid’s mom opened her mouth again, someone collapsed. It was an elderly grandfather.

“Hey, grandpa!”

“What!”

The usually cheerful grandfather, who donated to schools and worked efficiently, was retching. Sweat dripped, and his complexion was pale.

“Heatstroke? Heat exhaustion? Whatever, what should we do?”

“CPR?”

It’s a mess. Too many useless people. Bringing zombies, fighting, worrying endlessly, collapsing.

I calmly looked around at the people.

Someone frantically removing the grandfather’s clothes to lower his body temperature, the mentally shaken kid’s mom, the irritated uncle, the grumbling market team, the dazed onlookers.

And, Park Yang-gun.

He quietly slipped into the villa. It was a signal to escape now.

‘I should hole up at home before the zombies come.’

I subtly winked at the pillager companion and the uncle, then slowly returned to the villa.

The zombie horde charged.

***

Zombies are animals too. Hunger drives them mad. Like a long-starved predator gambling against a powerful beast, they charged madly towards our villa street.

Having escaped early, I stood by the window, leisurely watching the zombies and the villa street people.

“Ah! Zombies!”

People splashing water and feeding salt to the grandfather scattered, running towards their villa entrances.

But they were a bit late. Crowding in the narrow villa entrance delayed their retreat, and someone dragging the weak grandfather was caught by a zombie.

Grabbed by the hair, they were dragged and beaten with bricks, baseball bats, and other weapons.

Screams and blood splattered on the asphalt road.

Some zombies even ran into the villa, catching up to fleeing people. The scene on the stairs was faintly visible through the narrow window.

“Ahhh!”

“Grrr!”

Voices reached here. People frantically running up the stairs and zombies barely catching up.

The person barely escaped being caught and disappeared through the stair window, but soon became a corpse, dragged and thrown down the stairs.

Conversely, the zombie continued up the stairs, entering the floor where the person was caught.

‘…Did they wait for the door to open when trying to escape?’

Probably, they caught the person when they frantically opened the door, before it closed. A zombie’s cunning trick. Hunting people, making them open the door themselves.

Conversely, it was the people’s fault, as the entrance door remained invincible.

I glanced towards the entrance.

“Grrr.”

“Ahhh!”

Zombies roared, banging on the door. But the entrance didn’t open. It’s not a door zombies can open.

I checked the villa street group chat on my messenger. Surprisingly, people were calm. Everyone was used to this level of death and accidents.

Messages checking survival, estimating when zombies would leave, worrying about kids…

Soon, the uncle summarized the situation.

– Let’s wait at home until the zombies leave. They won’t stay here forever.

That’s right. I put down my phone.

A zombie attack is like a shower. Wait for it to pass.

Bang bang bang, the sound of knocking on the door. Grrr, the sound of zombies crying. I treated all that noise as background sounds of raindrops and wind hitting the window, slowly closing my eyes.

***

It wasn’t a shower but a monsoon.

The zombies didn’t leave easily. No, as many left, new zombie hordes entered the streets, and some zombies remained, patrolling the villa street like sentinels.

Gradually, messages expressing anxiety filled the group chat.

If we stay locked inside, we’ll starve, it’s been a while since we saw the kids, the zombies show no end…

To make matters worse, real rain started falling.

I looked at the window. Raindrops incessantly hit the tightly closed window surface.

Beyond the entrance, I faintly heard zombie voices. The presence of zombies seeking shelter from the rain inside the villa building. Not just one or two. Opening the door would reveal a villa full of zombies.

Tap tap tap, I tapped my phone with my fingers.

‘Jeondohyeong and I still have plenty of food.’

We could monopolize the villa’s resources and survive longer than those people. But if this situation continues…

Messages kept coming on the messenger. Many foreseeing a dark future, but some remained positive.

Let’s wait a few more days. The rain will stop soon, and the zombies will leave.

But the situation kept worsening.

The rain kept pouring, zombies left in the rain only to be replaced by new ones. Even the wind and rain grew fiercer.

Looking out the window, trash flew around, and somewhere, a window shattered.

– Rainwater is coming in! The rice is all wet!

– I can’t sleep. Zombie noises keep coming from the entrance.

– What about the indoor farm? The window there is fine, but we haven’t watered in a while.

Problems, problems, problems kept pouring in.

The indoor farm was the biggest issue. We couldn’t water, couldn’t turn on the plant growth lights. Lettuce and such are dying.

I stroked my chin with my hand.

‘People can die, but lettuce must not.’

Self-sufficient food, growable food, resources to slow consumption. This is more important than people.

If this continues, it’s not about safely surviving inside. It’s slowly dying.

Ultimately, we had to act to create a breakthrough. It’s just that we couldn’t come up with a plausible breakthrough.

Finally, the villa street people decided to go out once the rain stopped. To somehow enter the indoor farm when the zombies decreased.

At that moment, a thought crossed my mind.

‘Will farming yield more food, or will those people dying leave more food?’

The discomfort index rose, and a nasty thought sprouted like mold. It was summer.