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Knock knock knock-

A faint knocking sound and a voice could be heard.

“Are you up? You’re not a zombie, right?”

I struggled to open my eyes. Having slept deeply all night, it was hard to wake up. My groggy voice came out, sounding almost like a zombie’s growl.

“Uh, uh…”

“Ah, crap. Did you turn into a zombie?”

The door swung open, and a raised hand axe came into the room. Its sharp blade. A weapon gleaming in the sunlight.

Startled, I grabbed the hammer by my bedside. My drowsiness vanished, and a panicked voice escaped me.

“No! Put that axe down!”

“Why are you making zombie noises… You’re really a weird person.”

Jeondohyeong awkwardly lowered the axe. I wiped my face with both hands a few times and then put on my mask.

Of course, that was the right move. I’ve done the same to him before. Worried about turning into a zombie while sleeping, it had become routine to sleep in a separate room with the door closed and check in the morning if the other was still human.

But being on the receiving end made my heart drop. I thought he might just hurl the axe at me.

I waved my hand.

“Go back to your room. I’ll get us some food.”

“Okay. Let’s talk about what to do with the church after we eat.”

Creak, the door closed.

I searched for food. Items nearing their expiration date. Yogurts from various houses, tofu that was about to go bad, eggs. Foods we wouldn’t be able to eat once the apocalypse hit.

It was a bizarre meal, but I forced it down, feeling like I was just refueling.

The yogurt, tofu, and eggs mixed in my mouth. My thoughts drifted.

‘Have I gained weight lately?’

Eating all the nearly expired food made my body feel heavy.

After finishing the meal, doing the dishes, washing up, and boiling barley tea, I knocked on Jeondohyeong’s door with the hammer.

“First, I’m thinking of going to the evening service. What about you?”

“I’m getting bored staying home… I’ll go too.”

The plan was set.

We rested until evening, then slipped out onto the streets when it seemed quiet.

***

The service was said to start at 8 PM, the time when blackouts usually hit our area. The service would begin simultaneously with the blackout.

“An hour early? The church isn’t that far. It’s like a 20-minute walk.”

Jeondohyeong swung his axe uneasily. He seemed to want to minimize the time spent outside, given the danger.

But I shook my head.

“The service isn’t the goal. It’s reconnaissance.”

We needed to see how many people were there, find any vulnerabilities, and gauge their strength.

We needed enough time to scout the church building.

‘At the very least, I need to find an opportunity to assassinate that pastor or whatever he is.’

But such thoughts didn’t last long.

We were out in dangerous streets. There was no mental energy to spare for other things.

Eyes wide open, we were busy watching out for zombies or madmen. We walked cautiously, ready to swing our weapons at any moment.

Cars still roamed the streets, and there were quite a few people around. Of course, there were zombies too.

“…”

“…”

It was a strange coexistence, something you’d only see during a transition period.

People tiptoed around zombies, trying not to provoke them. Zombies bared their teeth at passing cars but didn’t dare throw themselves onto the road. They seemed to retain some minimal judgment.

Of course, this coexistence wouldn’t last long.

‘How many infected are there now? 1.5 million? Over 400,000 zombies? If more time passes here…’

The number of zombies kept growing.

Few people went to government-run testing centers, and the limited supply of self-test kits only drove the infected out onto the streets.

Because a certain PD had planted the seeds of doubt effectively.

I swallowed hard.

‘The numbers are a problem, and if they get hungry, they’ll start actively hunting people.’

No matter how I looked at it, the future was bleak. It was the apocalypse.

The streets already felt like a wasteland. Delivery-only restaurants were deserted, and the music that used to play from various stores was gone.

People walking the desolate streets gripped weapons, wary of their surroundings.

In an era where individuals had to protect their own lives amidst pervasive threats, the air was thick with tension.

Tap tap-

Jeondohyeong and I, tense, gestured directions and zigzagged through the streets to avoid zombies.

Naturally, it took longer. In the dimming evening light, we took nearly an hour to reach the church, a distance that should have taken 20 minutes.

***

The church grounds were free of zombies. We hurriedly ran to the chapel entrance, panting. There was no time to scout.

‘I should’ve left earlier!’

As I berated myself, an old lady standing at the chapel entrance smiled warmly.

“Such devout believers. Rushing so as not to miss the pastor’s words.”

“Ah, well.”

“Come on, wash your hands and hurry inside. The service is about to start.”

I was about to respond, but the old lady abruptly handed us alcohol disinfectant. Looking closely, there was a sticky note attached.

‘Hand sanitizer blessed by the pastor!’

A thought flashed through my mind. Such a rational use of science. Was the pastor not a cult leader? Was he using religion as a front to form a survivor group?

Jeondohyeong awkwardly said, “Do we have to do this if we’re wearing gloves?”

“You never know what’s on the gloves. Sanitize them anyway. Then write your names on the visitor list.”

I quickly rubbed the sticky sanitizer on my gloves and looked at the visitor list. The kind used for epidemiological investigations during the COVID-19 pandemic.

Suddenly, I felt a chill. Name, number, address. Yes, address.

‘Are they gathering people’s home locations to loot later…?’

My guard shot up. I had encountered something more dangerous than zombies. Someone who had already adapted to the apocalypse, like me, but using religion to organize a group.

For a moment, my vision blurred. This wasn’t just a simple cult. The pastor was my superior. I had to deal with him somehow.

I quickly grabbed a pen and scribbled fake information. A made-up name, a fabricated address, random numbers.

I nudged Jeondohyeong.

“Hey, we’re running out of time. I wrote yours too, so let’s hurry inside.”

“Okay. Doesn’t look like anyone else is coming, so let’s go together.”

“Yes, grandma, come with us.”

Jeondohyeong, with a clueless expression, was dragged along by me, and the old lady followed. The sound of her slow footsteps behind us and the chapel door slamming shut was eerie.

‘Did I seem suspicious? Why the close surveillance?’

Cold sweat ran down my back.

Meanwhile, I casually surveyed the brightly lit scene. A spacious chapel. Torturous wooden chairs. People packed tightly, waiting for the service and the pastor.

There were many of them. A mix of men, women, and children, all armed with baseball bats, crowbars, axes, or kitchen knives.

I had a sinking feeling.

How do I deal with this? Fire? There were fire extinguishers everywhere. Virus terrorism? Everyone was wearing masks.

“No seats left. Let’s unfold some chairs here.”

Clunk-

The old lady tapped a folding chair against the wall. I quickly pulled out a chair and set it up near the chapel entrance. The optimal position for a quick escape. The old lady followed.

A contented voice came.

“It’s good that there are so many people in the church thanks to our pastor. It’s all God’s guidance.”

“Uh, grandma. Are those miracles real?”

“Of course! I experienced it myself. Family-like believers, the original pastor, they all turned into zombies. But our pastor prayed-”

While Jeondohyeong kept the conversation going, I noticed something and closed my eyes tightly. No matter how they tried to hide it, they couldn’t fool my eyes.

‘That’s a police handgun!’

Among the elders? Deacons? Guards or watchers lining the walls, a few had handguns visible at their waists.

Were they police officers who were also believers? Did they get the guns after reading my online posts? If so, I’d given my enemy weapons. That couldn’t be. It just couldn’t. They must be plainclothes officers.

Just then, Jeondohyeong showed interest in the people standing.

“Why are they standing? Doesn’t their legs hurt?”

“Hoho. They’re all people saved by the pastor. Brothers and sisters who experienced miracles like me. The pastor personally drove out the virus-”

I sighed involuntarily.

Not police then. They made the devout into leaders. Only the leaders were issued firearms.

This church was more organized than I had anticipated. Any clumsy move, and I’d be the one in trouble. If I messed up, I’d be pursued by armed avengers fueled by faith.

‘No plausible scenario comes to mind.’

As I secretly sighed deeply, darkness fell. A blackout.

Silence filled the chapel. The chatter stopped. The darkness and silence weighed heavily on the mind.

No one turned on their phones, coughed, or made a sound. The cohesion of the group.

The darkness distorted the sense of time. Seconds or minutes passed unnoticed. Jeondohyeong whispered softly.

“Grandma. When does the service-”

“Shut up.”

The kind old lady’s personality flipped in an instant, sharply snapping at him. Jeondohyeong closed his mouth.

Then, a warm flame lit up where the pastor would preach. On the high, elongated wooden pulpit, candles lit one by one, casting an orange glow on the pastor’s face.

‘Is he into theatrics?’

For a moment, my inner scenario writer emerged but quickly vanished in the face of the overwhelming situation.

‘I can’t touch this.’

I looked at the pastor’s face in despair. To have organized such a group already.

A young man who could pass for a college student closed his eyes and brought a portable microphone to his mouth. A trained voice flowed out solemnly.

“You will not fear the terror of night, nor the arrow that flies by day, nor the pestilence that stalks in the darkness, nor the plague that destroys at midday.”

A Bible verse.

I listened blankly to the voice, trying to grasp the cult-like doctrine of this church.

The pastor continued solemnly reciting the Bible.

“If you say, ‘The Lord is my refuge,’ and you make the Most High your dwelling, no harm will overtake you, no disaster will come near your tent-”

Keywords: plague, disaster, protection.

The prayer continued.

“Oh, Lord. Almighty God. God of life. We believe that You will save the lambs from the calamities and plagues brought by evil men.”

As I listened, I slowly grasped the core.

The chairman of Immortal Company is a minion of Satan, the I-virus is Satan’s doing, the weak in faith turn into zombies, the faithful are immune to the virus, and even zombies can return.

The pastor’s miraculous deeds and the doctrine that fits the current situation created synergy.

I came to a conclusion.

I can’t beat this. Like a police station or government agency, there’s nothing I can do.

“Amen.”

– Amen!

As the pastor briefly spoke, a wave of shouts returned. I half-heartedly pretended to pray, swept up in the wave. It was dark anyway, so no one could see, but I acted for the sake of it.

I recalled two old adages.

If you can’t beat them, join them!

‘With a group this size, joining might actually be beneficial. Sure, the faith system is questionable, but…’

I could just act like a fanatic. In the apocalypse, survival is what matters.

The second adage was as follows.

The enemy within is the most dangerous!

‘If I can get close and quietly assassinate… Or if I can secretly visit the addresses on the church’s visitor list under the church’s name and loot…’

My eyes gleamed in the dark.

Whether it’s good or evil, it’s all about choosing based on benefit. Depending on the situation, I’ll choose the bright and hopeful path.

 

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