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You can’t move at night. Unless you’re going out to pillage, you have to move during the day to drag all this luggage and people around.

So, I first called the scout team to my house and asked about the townhouse.

“How’s the townhouse?”

“It was a pretty good property.”

The real estate uncle seemed to reminisce about his past working days, staring into space nostalgically before snapping back to reality and answering.

“It doesn’t look like it’s in good condition. The upper part of the townhouse, which goes up the mountain, was swept away by a landslide, and there’s only one house with a solar generator installed.”

He says that such a house can’t be sold, and there’s no one to buy it, but in times like these, it’s a great house that you can’t get even with billions.

Facilities to draw groundwater, a location with a mountain behind for foraging, and close proximity to the city center.

But great houses attract survivors. I narrowed my eyes while touching the hammer.

“How about the number or strength of the survivor group?”

“I couldn’t check that. I couldn’t visit like before, saying I was there to see the house. I didn’t even enter the townhouse grounds.”

The real estate uncle held out his palm.

“They set up fences and barricades around the townhouse. There are people on guard, and traps are installed. I barely managed to scout by going up the mountain.”

The real estate uncle, rubbing his thigh, saying his legs hurt. He briefly showed a similar killing intent to mine.

“But they didn’t seem to have proper rifles, and instead, they were growing crops in the yard. If we just take them…”

“Of course, we should take them.”

I also grinned and agreed. Society has collapsed. There’s no such thing as contracts or laws. If you want a house, kill the people living inside and move in.

Only force was a person’s right. And probably our rights are stronger than the townhouse people’s rights.

I patted the real estate uncle’s shoulder and helped him up.

“You’ve worked hard. Now go back and rest well. We’re moving tomorrow.”

“Yes. Rest well.”

***

It’s the apocalypse. Moving comes with countless dangers. Pillagers and zombies targeting the resources we’ve packed for moving. Roads that might have traps. It’s dangerous to enter someone else’s territory.

So, we moved heavily armed, vigilant on all sides.

We placed the luggage and non-combat personnel in the center, with combat personnel forming a circle to escort them. Some guarded the rear.

“Can we use electricity? There’s a generator, right? We can listen to music, watch movies.”

“What’s the use of electricity? We don’t have files.”

“We can get them.”

I heard the murmurs of bored people chatting, but their voices weren’t loud. So as not to disturb the vigilance.

I pushed the combat cart with force, looking around.

It’s been just over half a year. The city has become a complete ruin.

The road, covered in dirt, trash, and corpses, showed occasional patches of asphalt and paving stones. A few surviving street trees shook their bare branches, waiting to be cut down.

Road signs, utility poles, and traffic lights stood firm, but covered in dust, tilted, and turned off, they felt like remnants of downfall.

‘If more time passes, these will disappear too.’

Probably by human hands. People who have somehow banded together and survived might try to recycle the precious steel resources.

Thinking about it, current survivors are like a swarm of locusts. Devouring the remaining resources in the city, consuming ammunition and quarantine supplies, dismantling cars and electronics to use only the necessary parts.

If all traces of modern civilization disappear, it might not be by nature’s hand but by human hands.

“Stop. There are zombie traces.”

A report from the front.

I snapped back to attention and moved forward. The lead companion pointed to a corpse on the ground. A body that hadn’t been dead long, not heavily decomposed.

And, a shiny piece of plastic trash in its mouth.

“Virus generator?”

It’s the trace of a zombie tied to a cross in the streets last summer. A zombie with a nasty habit of shoving trash into people’s mouths, a zombie that learned from human behavior.

I and the criminal companion, knowing that zombie, reacted with curiosity.

“Is it still alive? How did it get water and food?”

“It’s smart.”

“It must have learned from someone, so it wouldn’t be easily caught.”

But another companion, unaware of the situation, trembled in fear. Goosebumps were visible on his skin.

“Do you know this guy? He’s really dangerous.”

“It’s the guy we used as a virus generator before. He escaped luckily.”

“This guy?”

The companion opened his eyes wide and looked at me. I looked back at him in confusion. Is this guy dangerous?

Zombies are inherently less intelligent than humans. They lack the ability to harbor malice and evil, the strongest weapons of humans. Even if the virus generator is smart, it’s still at the level of a beast, with a body weaker than a beast.

The companion swallowed hard and looked around.

“This guy mimics human voices.”

“Huh?”

“It circles around the residence at night, crying or laughing. If you can’t stand it and go out, the zombies it leads are hiding and attack.”

Does this make sense? Well, it does. If humans can mimic zombies, zombies can mimic humans. They have the same vocal cords.

“When this guy makes such sounds, it’s after confirming that humans are weaker than them. So, when you hear this guy’s voice, everyone is terrified…”

Has the nastiness worsened? No, this isn’t just malice. It’s a tactic for easy hunting.

I blinked quietly, then suddenly had a thought and approached the corpse. I quickly moved my gloved hand and lifted the corpse’s sleeve.

Then, clear marks were visible. Roughly cut flesh on the thigh and arm.

“So, what do zombies eat to survive…”

Now it seems they hunt humans too.

I looked down at the corpse, then raised my head to look at the sky.

How much have the zombies that survived until now learned? To what level have they adapted to the world? Just as the survivors’ levels have risen, perhaps zombies have honed human-like malice in places I haven’t seen.

People murmuring uneasily, as if they had similar thoughts. The atmosphere isn’t great.

I took out a handgun from my pocket and fired it into the sky. Then, I slowly stood up and responded calmly.

“The smarter they are, the more they understand the difference in force. They won’t mess with us. Let’s go.”

No, hungry beasts attempt reckless hunts. They even attack powerful animals they should avoid.

But there’s no need to lose the psychological battle before even fighting. The frightened companion also checked his firearm and nodded.

“Right. Actually, I wish we’d meet. So I can put a hole in his head.”

Well. Zombies of this level show up when we’re at our weakest.

I shook my head inwardly and pushed the combat cart again.

***

We moved slowly. Walking cautiously, step by step, with nerves on edge, drained our mental strength, and the heavy bags, carts, and carriages sapped our physical strength.

In the end, we had to take breaks.

We caught our breath in a shopping district swept by zombies, with neon signboards shattered, or ate under a pavilion when we saw a park…

“Let’s eat.”

People spread out and took out lunchboxes from their bags. Shoving roughly made rice balls into their mouths.

I also sat on a bench and absentmindedly chewed and swallowed a rice ball.

‘It feels like traveling.’

After the apocalypse, I’ve never traveled such a long distance, so the whole city felt unfamiliar.

And wandering through unfamiliar areas was no different from traveling.

Watching exercise equipment in the park eroded by ivy, picking up albums or movie DVDs in ruined shopping districts, communicating with strangers using firearms.

Especially Jeondohyeong, feeling the camping vibe, excitedly wandered around.

“The city air is really nice. In the past, you had to go far to feel this kind of air.”

Jeondohyeong, maintaining a 3-meter distance, sat across from me and took a deep breath of the air. I also sniffed the air and coughed.

“What’s nice about the air? It smells of corpses and trash.”

“No. Not that air. Smell the tree scent. It’s so clear.”

I can’t smell that. It’s just the smell of corpses rotting in such parks. The smell of the apocalypse felt everywhere in the city. A stench that makes people uncomfortable.

I glanced around at my companions, seeing them all eating indifferently.

It seems everyone’s noses are numb to the familiar stench.

Jeondohyeong clicked his tongue and took out a map from his pocket.

“We’re about halfway, so we should reach the townhouse by dusk. What are we going to do? Attack right away?”

“They seem to have traps set up. We can’t attack at night. We should sleep somewhere suitable tonight. And, we might not even arrive by evening.”

I stared at the corpse.

“There are too many variables on the way.”

Information from the scout team and from a few survivors we kidnapped while moving. Dangerous zombie territories, occasional sightings of pillagers, the activity range of skilled survivors.

Since we can’t all ride bicycles and avoid them with overwhelming mobility, if we encounter them, a fight is unavoidable.

Sajihyeok chimed in with a laugh.

“We’re quite the tempting prey. Look at all these resources. Aren’t we the perfect bait?”

The resources loaded on the carts and carriages. Flauntingly exposed.

Park Yang-gun also spoke in a low voice.

“I wasn’t sure, so I didn’t say anything. But I felt like someone was following us. I don’t know if it’s my imagination or real.”

Is there a more tempting target than a moving survivor group? Non-combat personnel to protect, too much luggage, the advantage of their own territory.

You don’t even need to kill them all; just make them drop a cart and run, and the profit is huge. If lucky, you can get even more resources.

‘If I saw a group moving in front of me, I’d attack too.’

But we’re not just a survivor group. We’re pillagers. I swallowed the rice ball and laughed.

“Let them all come.”

We can kill all who resist in a nomadic style and pillage. Armed with rifles, every building is our home, and every person is a target for pillaging.

 

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