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After a storm passed, an ambiguous peace continued on Villa Street. Whenever zombies appeared, boiling water was poured to chase them away, and the wilted lettuce gradually regained its vitality.

Most importantly, the cheerful children returned. Escorted by the police, the children ran in, but stopped in their tracks when they sensed something was missing.

“Huh? Where did the dummy go?”

“Did it go home because of the rain?”

The spot where our virus generator, also the children’s toy, once stood. The kids, spinning around as if disappointed, suddenly looked up.

The kid’s mom rushed out and, as if collapsing, hugged the children tightly in her arms.

“Kids!”

“Mom!”

The family embraced each other. The police officer, looking proud, adjusted his mask and then bowed his head before leaving.

I watched the scene from the window.

‘Is the school safer than I thought?’

During the stormy days when zombies roamed the streets, the open school seemed dangerous, but it held up surprisingly well.

The children chattered away, holding their mom’s hand.

They saw soldiers shooting guns, the playground crops died because of the rain, they slept under blankets in the big auditorium, it was fun, they wanted something to eat….

The voices slowly faded. The mom hurriedly took the kids back to the villa. The children also looked around, checking for zombies.

I tapped the window frame.

‘Will the school keep operating?’

Commuting has become difficult. The streets are dangerous too. Many parents might just give up on school.

But the situation unfolded differently than I expected.

The school didn’t stop operating. The teachers, who would become mere survivors if the school collapsed, came up with a new solution.

Boarding life.

No need to commute. Living, eating, and sleeping at school.

Barbed wire fences, soldiers guarding the narrow entrance, police stationed inside, superior security and defense compared to most survivor groups.

Parents seemed to quickly embrace the school that sold not just education but safety. Despite needing to provide more food, they pushed through and sent their kids to school.

Even the mom on Villa Street was like that.

“Brush your teeth before bed, and call immediately if anything happens.”

On the street in front of the villa, under the watch of the police, the mom held the kids’ hands and gave them instructions. The children sulkily bowed their heads.

They knew they’d have to live away from their parents in an unfamiliar school for a while. The kids made subtly dark expressions, then quickly bowed and said goodbye to the street people.

“Goodbye.”

“Sure, come back if things get better.”

“Contact us if there’s any trouble.”

The surviving people of Villa Street handed candy to the kids.

With many people dead, they seemed to see the kids as symbols of hope. Maybe like a backup USB. Even if they died, they wanted the kids to remember them.

I hid my cynical thoughts and retreated to a corner.

‘No, what a waste of resources.’

Loss of labor, loss of resources. What’s the point of this useless effort….

As I thought this, the kids hesitantly approached me. Maybe because I teased them before, there was a subtle tension and fear.

“Goodbye, Uncle.”

“Let us know if you catch another zombie!”

I don’t have a taser to capture zombies, and I haven’t seen any lone zombies lately.

I stayed still for a moment, then rummaged through my bag and pulled out a water gun. I’m not sure if the virus is still alive, but it’s a water gun mixed with zombie saliva.

“Shoot this if anyone bothers you.”

“A water gun? They said not to shoot people with this.”

“It’s made to shoot people. Shoot secretly. You can also dip it in a cup or mix it in water. Or spray it on their mask or mouth while they sleep.”

It’s a weapon prepared to use on people.

Around that time, the police officer who was talking to the kid’s mom came over and tapped the kids. It was time to go. The people of Villa Street, the mom, and the kids waved goodbye for a long time.

***

Time passed, and the lettuce grew big. We harvested the lettuce before it was too late. We first plucked the outer leaves of the large lettuce and divided them fairly.

I happily carried my share of lettuce back home.

The sound of water washing the lettuce, the droplets splashing as I shook it off, everything felt refreshing.

“Wow, it’s been so long.”

Fresh vegetables are a rare treat. After eating rice, kimchi, canned food, instant meals, cereal, and ramen, I finally had a chance to eat something alive.

Suddenly appreciating farming, I looked at the green lettuce leaves. The result of my sweaty labor. How should I eat this?

Should I fry some spam? Wrap it with rice? Mix it with soy sauce and vinegar? Or just eat it raw?

I unconsciously put a lettuce leaf in my mouth and closed my eyes. The texture of fresh vegetables. A vitality you can’t feel in canned or instant food.

And, bitterness.

“Ugh.”

Bitter. Tasteless. Maybe I didn’t water it enough. It’s even rough. I frowned and chewed the lettuce reluctantly.

I couldn’t spit it out. This was a resource only obtainable through farming. No matter how much I wandered the city, I couldn’t get it. Fresh food had either been eaten or rotted.

‘Are people refusing to farm because it’s too tasteless?’

When I turned on my phone, surprisingly, pure joy flowed in the group chat.

Someone shared a recipe for seasoned vegetables, photos of spam fried and wrapped in rice, discussions about expanding the farm, and questions about when other crops would be harvested.

It seemed more about freshness than long-term perspectives or resource management.

I tilted my head.

“No, but this is too bitter. Have people’s taste buds gone weird? …Or is it just mine?”

Did someone play a prank? When I subtly asked if it was too bitter, they said this much was hard to come by. Some even said to think of it as eating herbs.

If everyone’s suffering, I can endure it. I roughly dipped the lettuce in gochujang and put it in my mouth.

‘I feel like I’m getting healthier….’

As I reluctantly continued eating, the kid’s mom suddenly sent an urgent message.

There seemed to be a problem at the school. The kids might be in danger. Her hands must’ve been shaking, as there were many typos.

The chat paused for a moment. Then, worried messages flooded in. What’s the problem? Aren’t there soldiers? Calm down….

I quietly stared at the screen.

‘It’d be great if the school collapsed.’

Suddenly, the lettuce tasted sweet. I excitedly scooped up the remaining rice with my spoon.

***

Right after finishing my meal, I was called by the uncle and went to a house in the villa. When I entered, the uncle and the kid’s mom were sitting apart, having a serious conversation.

“The school….”

“Can’t we rescue them? Even now—”

Did it really collapse? I deliberately made loud footsteps to announce my presence, and their conversation stopped.

“I’m here. What’s the matter?”

“Ah, good. There seems to be a problem at the school.”

The uncle waved his hand, gesturing for me to sit. I sat far away, blinking in confusion.

“What problem could there be? Any zombie would come and go.”

Did they shoot people with the water gun I gave them? Did the school collapse? Did the water or electricity get cut off? What else could be dangerous?

The uncle sighed.

“Zombies broke through the main gate, and a few people are holding out behind a narrow barricade.”

“Zombies?”

“See for yourself.”

The kid’s mom urgently handed me her phone. There were photos, and I slowly flipped through them, piecing together the situation.

I don’t know what’s going on, but at the main gate, zombie and soldier corpses were mixed together, and zombies were swarming across the playground.

In a hurry to escape, there were blurry photos and a picture of a police officer shooting at zombies at the end of the line.

Photos of zombies taken from behind a welded barricade.

I tilted my head.

“Yes. I’ve seen it all.”

It’s impressive they took photos while running. But why did they call me? After thinking for a moment, I quickly accepted the feedback.

“We’ve had similar incidents. If we need to go out, we should have someone watching from the roof.”

Surprise attacks are a problem. During the last zombie wave, people died when zombies suddenly swarmed the streets while they were working.

Defense isn’t just holding a shield. Observation is essential.

The uncle slowly nodded, as if understanding my point.

“Right. …Rescuing is tough.”

“What are you talking about! The kids, no, forget it. I’ll go alone.”

Suddenly, the kid’s mom stood up.

I was a bit slow to grasp the situation. Did she want help rescuing the kids? My words were interpreted as a roundabout refusal.

The uncle reached out into the air for a moment, then wiped his face.

“Wait. There are police and other groups there. They’ll act. We don’t need to step in as a group that’s already short on people.”

“Right. If it’s urgent, you can also request help from the Delivery Vigilante Group or the fire department’s agency.”

I chimed in. This was a personal matter, so I suggested a personal solution.

But the kid’s mom slumped down, her legs giving out. She hung her head and muttered.

“What if they die in the meantime? We don’t even have food to request help….”

True, the Villa Street people contributed, but they must’ve spent a lot on tuition and boarding fees.

Asking the street people for help, they’ve already shown goodwill, and their food supply is likely insufficient. And there’s no one willing to join the rescue effort.

Then, suddenly, the kid’s mom’s phone buzzed. A message and photos from the kids.

A text saying they’d stay quiet until the zombies left and not to call. And that the zombie we tied up had come.

I looked at the zombie photo and made a baffled expression.

‘What did this kid learn?’

The virus generator was torturing someone beyond the barricade. A wounded teacher slowly dying, roughly tied up with rope, and trash stuffed in their mouth.

Then, a chill ran down my spine.

Zombies learn from people. But this virus generator I captured had unlimited exposure to human life.

The comings and goings on the street, the innocent bullying by the kids, me making crosses, working on the street, Park Yang-gun practicing gas pipe climbing….

A zombie that has learned more about human life than any other is out there.

 

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