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The wait was long. Scattered in the bushes or abandoned cars, there was nothing to do while waiting. Since we were spread out and ambushing, we had to spend time alone.

I sat in the back seat of the car, slouching like the corpses in front. The bodies in the driver’s and passenger seats, still wearing seatbelts, seemed to have died in an accident.

“Did they die in a traffic accident at the beginning of the crisis?”

The corpses were almost skeletal. Their masks and coats had already been stripped, leaving them lightly dressed. The glove box was wide open too.

The windows were already shattered, and the car was open all the way to the trunk.

“Did the driver turn into a zombie while driving? Or was it a real accident?”

As I pondered how they might have died, I sighed lightly and rolled my eyes.

The quiet, almost eerie river came into view. The river was relatively clean even without human maintenance. Dry reeds grew moderately thick.

But the walking paths were different. The bike lanes and walking paths were covered in dirt, with weeds growing thickly. Even the benches were like that.

Occasionally, some people could be seen.

“Kkkkk…”

A zombie limped over, dunking its head into the shallow stream to drink water. Sometimes, people came carrying PET bottles or canteens, and others went down to the river to pull up traps.

The person who pulled up the trap lifted it to check the harvest, sighed deeply, and trudged away.

People and zombies looked quite similar.

Malnourished and weak in movement.

“Life is all the same.”

There was nothing more to see. I closed my eyes and completely relaxed. It was better to rest. When the Townhouse flies came, my companions would make noise, and then I could move.

How much time had passed? The light seeping through my eyelids turned red. The sun was setting, and the sunset arrived.

It was about time for the Townhouse flies to approach.

Just as I was about to move again, footsteps approached. It was the sound of one person’s footsteps. They stopped in front of the window where I was.

“What? Why is there an intact corpse… Oh.”

I opened my eyes, but all I saw was someone running away, shaking a PET bottle.

“What? Who is that?”

I blinked blankly, then hurriedly grabbed my rifle. I burst through the door and raised my voice.

“Stop, stop. Move, and I’ll shoot!”

The fleeing person’s steps halted abruptly. He slowly turned around, sighed, and showed his pockets.

“I don’t have anything. Really.”

“Come here. Follow me.”

He didn’t seem to be from the Townhouse. Anyway, a Townhouse person might run away if they saw this scene, so I dragged him to a corner where a truck had overturned.

In the shadowy corner, I questioned this survivor.

“Where are you from?”

“From around here. You seem new to this area… You’re the one who attacked the Townhouse. I heard someone moved in there.”

That was obvious from the firearms.

I pondered for a moment, then lightly waved the gun.

“First, kneel down. Answer a few questions, and I’ll let you go.”

“Okay. But isn’t this crossing the line by the river? Everyone leaves the river alone.”

“That’s why we don’t charge for water use. Water fees are crossing the line.”

The survivor obediently lowered his posture, tilted his head, and muttered to himself.

“If not for water fees, why here… Oh. Are you looking for Townhouse people?”

He was quick-witted. No wonder he ran away when he saw me. No need to explain further. I nodded, and the survivor spoke.

“Those people, I don’t know where they came from, but they were wandering around with handguns. They don’t seem to have a residence, but they do come here to fetch water. I’ve run into them a few times.”

“Good. Then do me a favor.”

“Bait? Distraction?”

The survivor slowly got up, understanding.

“That much is fine…”

“I can’t give you anything right now, but I’ll share the resources we get from catching them.”

I found a more useful person than I thought. He’s worth using for this job.

I subtly lowered the gun and casually asked.

“But why did you run away immediately? You don’t know me, right?”

“If something seems off, of course, it’s bait. I couldn’t see the gun, but the corpse next to you was skeletal, while you were fine. And those clothes.”

The survivor pointed at my leather jacket.

“It’s getting cold, so people strip clothes from corpses. A leather jacket like that wouldn’t stay intact.”

His observation skills were impressive. Almost on par with Park Yang-gun’s instincts.

I pondered for a moment, then continued in a low voice.

“How many survivors are near the Townhouse? Especially those armed with guns.”

“I’m not sure about the Townhouse, but there are a decent number around here. There are people with guns, but no one with ammunition.”

This survivor had lived here long enough to provide detailed information.

The local police station was hit by a mass infection early in the crisis, and everyone turned into zombies. Some survivors here looted the station’s armory.

But those who looted the armory were either taken by zombies or caught in random fires set by other survivors…

“The ammunition caught fire and exploded. There might be lost firearms, but in this world, no one saves enough bullets for ammunition to last.”

It seems chaos was everywhere. Armed conflict was a basic reality wherever you went.

Then, the survivor subtly pointed to a building.

“Then I’ll hide in that building and come out when they arrive.”

“Let’s go together.”

“Ah.”

The survivor sighed, seemingly disappointed, and slowly walked ahead, shaking the PET bottle. Probably planning to run if I didn’t follow.

***

We waited in the building, talking. We kept an eye out the window and spoke.

“Is water scarce?”

“Everything is scarce. But we can get enough to survive, so it’s fine. Food is the bigger problem.”

The survivor spoke in a dark tone.

“You could get kimchi and rice from houses, but even that’s running out. Even apartments and villas have their front doors wide open.”

Houses have become treasure chests. Open doors meant someone had already looted them.

“Even if the door is closed, someone has already broken in through the window and looted it. Now it’s all about luck. Whether you find food that day or not.”

Searching houses for forgotten food or gambling on delivery trucks scattered on the streets.

I sighed in agreement.

“Can we survive the winter…?”

“It would be nice if we could, but it seems tough.”

Plunder is the answer. After all, people survive because there’s food, so capturing survivors means getting food.

Farming is out of the question with typhoons and famine. Fishing in the river is impossible due to drought. Winter itself is a season that produces nothing.

Hunting isn’t feasible in the city. There aren’t many animals. Not as many as in a ranch. Pigeons have their limits, and the mountains don’t have enough game for everyone.

Then, the survivor crouched.

“They’re here.”

“Go out first… Don’t run away.”

Feeling like he might run away, I added, and the survivor flinched. He awkwardly smiled and replied.

“I won’t run. But don’t shoot while I’m there. I don’t want to get shot by mistake.”

“I won’t shoot.”

A little threat should suffice. No need for a gunfight. Besides, those flies are more useful alive.

The survivor left first, and I followed slowly after confirming he was heading toward the river.

Soon, the river came into view. People were gathered by the water, talking. The survivor gestured exaggeratedly, drawing the flies’ attention, and they exchanged a few words.

“If you’re short on food, catch pigeons. Pigeons are great. No matter how many you catch, they don’t decrease.”

“No, I can’t.”

“If pigeons are too much, catch ducks. Sometimes ducks come to the river.”

One of the flies sighed deeply and waved a handgun.

“I can’t shoot that well.”

“If you have a handgun, you can hunt dogs or cats. They seem to have multiplied by eating human corpses.”

“Dogs travel in packs. They’re scary.”

At that point, I approached from behind. I moved silently, so they didn’t notice me.

I grinned and clicked my gun into place.

“Dogs are scary, but I’m not?”

“What?”

The flies turned around in shock. At the same time, my companions emerged from hiding. Sajihyeok came out of the bushes, and Jeondohyeong and Park Yang-gun came down from across the river.

“Kneel and raise your hands. Throw your guns far away.”

The bait survivor quickly moved. He knelt first, like a windbreak.

“I surrender. I have nothing.”

“I’m not interested in you. Step aside.”

“Yes, yes.”

He ran away in an instant.

In contrast, the flies froze for a moment, then pulled out their handguns.

“We have guns too!”

“Our guns are bigger. And we have more bullets.”

I aimed my rifle at one man. Information from a previous betrayer.

“We have a collaborator. Mr. Cho Young-seok? Your comrades told us everything. Your identities, this river, your dealings with the alliance, everything.”

“Who…”

Distrust instantly spread among them. Their gazes scattered, looking at each other. They stepped back, distancing themselves.

This atmosphere of distrust and suspicion. Perfect. Park Yang-gun seemed to smile faintly.

“Isn’t it too late to catch the betrayer? Just drop your guns.”

“Right. Drop your guns first. If we wanted to kill you, we wouldn’t have shown ourselves. We would have shot from afar.”

The flies shook their heads, gripping their handguns tightly.

“No. We can’t drop our guns. Talk first. What’s your goal?”

“Simple. The alliance. We want to use you to harm the alliance.”

Using these people could yield many benefits. We could siphon resources from the alliance, spread false information, or even learn about the alliance’s movements.

 

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