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Animals have territories. You could also call them activity ranges. The area they roam for food, the area they move to escape the cold and heat. The streets they traverse for survival.

Humans, being animals too, were no different. Each had their own activity range centered around a base.

And when territories overlap, survival competition begins.

In a city where scarce resources are fought over, the survival competition between zombies and humans, zombies and zombies, and humans and humans has begun. Each sharpening their own weapons.

***

I stood by the window, looking down at the street. As usual, I saw people wandering around looking for food, but something felt a bit off.

There were too many of them. Over 50? Anyway, a huge crowd was walking around, and the sheer number was overwhelming. The sound of their footsteps alone was like waves crashing.

“Let’s work hard today too!”

“Our head of the women’s association is so energetic, it’s great.”

Rustle—

People were dragging carts, probably stolen from a mart, and started looting nearby convenience stores through broken windows. They piled up not just leftover food but also cigarettes and clothes haphazardly into the carts.

I tapped the windowsill, lost in thought. What are these people doing?

“Are they from the apartment?”

Hearing the term “head of the women’s association,” they seemed like people from the apartments near Villa Street. Only an apartment could mobilize so many people.

In a way, it was a power only apartments could wield. A densely packed building like a chicken coop, a justification to unite so many people under the name of being apartment residents. Essentially, a factory churning out people.

And a large number of people is power in itself.

“Grrr.”

A few zombies wandering the street saw the apartment people and immediately turned to flee. Over 50 people seemed intimidating.

The apartment people, accustomed to zombies fleeing, ignored them and checked their loot.

“There’s not much food.”

The head of the women’s association frowned at the cart.

There was little food, but plenty of expensive-looking clothes, wallets, and bags. Most of the food had already been looted, so it seemed like personal greed took priority.

“Sis, this bag really suits you.”

They were showing clothes to each other like they were on a shopping spree.

I decided to stop paying attention.

Taking stuff from other houses? Fine. It’s just a temporary relocation. I can reclaim it anytime. It’s ultimately mine. They’re just holding onto it for me.

But things took a strange turn.

The head of the women’s association, with a bag slung over her shoulder, clapped her hands and gestured to the security officer.

“Did you bring the ladder? Let’s check the second-floor houses too!”

“What if there are people inside?”

The gray-haired security officer hunched his shoulders, and the head of the women’s association’s eyes narrowed.

“Are you not going to do it? Do you want to starve?”

“That’s not it…”

The security officer muttered timidly and pushed the heavy cart. The cart, filled with tools and a ladder, rattled noisily.

Then, the people worked together to set up the ladder, right at my villa.

Specifically, the second-floor house where I had fought off a burglar.

I felt an instinctive aversion. Touching my territory, my building? Sure, there’s only a corpse in that second-floor house, but still, I don’t like it.

My hand instinctively reached for a weapon.

‘A handgun? Zombie water gun? Molotov cocktail? No, hold back.’

There are 50 enemies. If I kill, it must be thorough. Without revealing myself. So they don’t know who or why. Like a sudden accident.

As I memorized their faces, an uncle from the next villa burst out. Wearing a leather jacket, work gloves, and holding a metal pipe.

“What are you doing in our neighborhood, you jerks!”

“What’s this?”

The 50 people surrounded the uncle. Voices and gazes filled with irritation and disdain pressed down on him.

The head of the women’s association glared sharply and shouted.

“Who are you? Is this your house? No, right? Why are you meddling?”

“I’m from this neighborhood! What about you, invading others’ houses?”

“Sigh…”

The uncle stood his ground, but the situation wasn’t favorable. The apartment people closed in, poking him.

“We’re just taking stuff from empty houses. What’s your problem, huh?”

“Mind your own business. You’re probably surviving by stealing others’ stuff too.”

“Or are you mad because we’re stealing what you wanted to steal?”

I nodded to myself.

It’s a survival competition. Fighting over the resources of Villa Street. Like beasts clashing over overlapping territories.

But the uncle is outnumbered by the apartment people. No handgun, no zombie water gun. He might get hurt…

Then, the uncle, who was being pushed around, suddenly fell to the ground and rolled.

“Help, neighbors! These apartment thugs are killing people! They’re going to kill everyone and loot the neighborhood!”

“What, when did we!”

The uncle’s loud shouts and the apartment people’s flustered rebuttals.

Shadows of people appeared in the windows of Villa Street. Even those who ignored the commotion now looked out with interest.

Countless eyes. People looking down from higher floors.

The confrontation between the uncle and the apartment people was turning into a confrontation between the entire Villa Street and the apartment people. The uncle changed it all with a few words.

‘Not bad.’

Facing a dangerous enemy alone? Then gather people. For an impromptu response, it’s quite impressive.

“What kind of people are these!”

“Let’s go. There are plenty of other places.”

Finally, the apartment people turned away under the gaze of Villa Street residents. If they mess with the uncle here? The Villa Street people, thinking they’re really here to kill and loot, might come out with murderous intent.

Fighting with murderous intent is tough.

Thus, another peaceful day seemed to pass, but I glared at the retreating backs of the apartment people.

‘This won’t end with just one incident.’

The city’s resources are dwindling. In a city where you must somehow obtain food that isn’t yours to survive.

Conflicts will increase. Unlike now, where we’re not ready to kill or be killed, we’ll soon be fighting for our lives.

***

If a war-like fight is expected, what do people do? Conscription. Organizing troops based on one of humanity’s strongest weapons: sociality.

The easiest and quickest power is the number of people.

Not long after the apartment people left, someone banged on my front door. From behind the door, I heard the uncle’s voice.

“You saw how the apartment people acted, right? If we don’t want to be victims, we need to unite as neighbors! If you’re interested, come to the villa rooftop later!”

“…Okay.”

I answered briefly, and the uncle left without hesitation. Then, I heard him knocking on neighboring houses, delivering the same message.

I touched my mask.

“Trying to gather people?”

Planning to unite Villa Street residents into a group? Like those apartment people?

Honestly, it’s not a brilliant idea. Even if you gather all of Villa Street, it’s not easy to match the numbers of an apartment. Is it the right choice to leverage inferior traits?

Wouldn’t it be better to become more ruthless? Ruthlessness is the easiest and most certain choice, isn’t it?

‘Well, mere ruthlessness might not be enough…’

I turned my gaze to the map spread on the desk. A map with several circles drawn around the villa.

Not the clumsy humans of Villa Street or apartments, but the territories of truly ruthless and heavily armed beasts.

The Hope Community that we left and is thriving, the archery club shooting arrows, the police station ruling the zone, the gym base of survivalist zombies eating protein instead of food, the territory of siege-trained muscle zombies, the Tower of Life cleaning the streets with Botox…

To compete with these and continue a fun looting life, a lot of effort is needed.

Refine ruthlessness into a sophisticated weapon. More precise scenarios or more lethal strategies.

I tapped my knee, thinking.

‘If I leave them be, they’ll mess with my villa anyway. Might as well use this chance to clear them out and gain some experience.’

***

“Then, I’ll be going.”

I waved to Jeondohyeong and Park Yang-gun. I decided to participate as the representative of Peace Villa, where I live.

Park Yang-gun nodded indifferently, while Jeondohyeong leaned uneasily.

“You’re not planning to cause trouble again, are you? I feel uneasy.”

“What trouble?”

Anyone would think I’m always causing trouble. On the contrary, I’m just getting caught up in it.

I forced a smile and headed to the rooftop of the neighboring villa. Many people had already gathered.

Professional survivors still alive. Armed with weapons, they opened and closed doors, welcoming street people. The uncle who gathered the people asked me.

“Where are you from?”

“Next door, Peace Villa.”

“Ah, a neighbor! Welcome!”

A short time passed. No more people came. Everyone who was coming had arrived.

The uncle looked around, cleared his throat, and spoke softly.

“Everyone. The apartment people have left, but this is just the beginning. They might look like they’re just looting empty houses now, but how long will that last? Eventually, they’ll come to kill and take our food.”

He spoke logically. It wasn’t a wrong prediction.

The people silently agreed, and the uncle, gaining confidence, continued, making eye contact with each person.

“Even if it’s not the apartment people, if we remain scattered, we’ll be picked off one by one by other thieves. So, what should we do?”

I quickly raised my hand.

“We should unite and strike first. Take revenge.”

“Huh?”

The uncle, delighted by the idea of uniting, looked at me in surprise.

He probably just wanted to gather people for defense. But that’s too loose. It’s not what I want either.

I looked around. Some were well-fed and thriving, but many looked weak from hunger. Hunger would be their motivation.

“Those wicked apartment people attacked our neighborhood, why should we just take it? Let’s go get food from the apartment.”

“Wait, how do we deal with so many people? And how do we open the apartment doors? It’s impossible and too dangerous—”

The uncle tried to regain control, but it was too late. The hungry people’s eyes were already lit.

I pulled out a taser from my pocket.

“A gift from a police friend. Shock the door lock, and it opens. This is our chance to get all that food from the apartment.”

 

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