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In the battle between life and death, blood was shed. The people of Villa Street began to show signs of being survivors of the apocalypse.

The uncle, after relentlessly tracking down a betrayer, hung the corpse of the traitor on a street tree. The street people no longer feared battle. Instead, they actively picked up weapons, their eyes gleaming with a bloody light.

The apartment raid failed, but through failure, they grew.

I like it. It’s a relief that the pillagers couldn’t carry out a virus attack. At this rate, we can coexist for a while.

“Living separately, with few obligations or rules, and a residence that can withstand waves.”

Thus, as a kind neighbor and a member of Villa Street, I acted with them.

“Zzzzt—”

“The door’s open.”

“Nice stun gun. Thanks.”

The door of the villa, rendered useless by the taser. It wasn’t my Peace Villa but another vacant house on Villa Street.

A house on the third floor, hard to reach by ladder. A treasure trove of food.

And of course, the treasure trove had its threats. Zombies. We gauged the presence beyond the door, and the uncle raised his fist, shouting a rallying cry.

“Safety first!”

“Good! Good! Good!”

We sharpened our focus, shouting to lure the zombies. From beyond the door, the sound of something rushing towards us was unmistakable.

We continued shouting, preparing our formation. One person held the door handle, pressing against the door, another held up a makeshift net made of thin blankets, and the uncle gripped a metal pipe.

“Open it!”

“Opening!”

With a creak, the door swung wide open. The person who opened it hid between the door and the wall. The zombie charged wildly but was caught in the thrown blanket net and fell.

“Kkkkgh!”

A blunt weapon swung down on it.

“Kill it!”

“Stay alert for more inside!”

Thud, thud, thud—the dull sounds echoed like rain. Dust flew, and red stains spread on the blanket.

Soon, the zombie’s struggles ceased. The people sighed in relief.

“Lucky it was just one.”

But it was too early to relax. Suspicious, I held a hammer and looked down at the blanket.

As the net handler rolled up the blanket, the zombie, crouched and tense, suddenly lifted its head. With torn lips drooling blood and saliva, its bloodshot eyes filled with malice, it sprang up like a spring.

“Kkkkgh!”

“Ah!”

Even with a broken leg, it desperately charged forward.

I swung the hammer lightly, as if waiting for this moment. A crisp sound and a heavy sensation in my hand. I muttered softly.

“Just because it’s down doesn’t mean it’s dead…”

Whether zombie or human, a confirming kill is essential. Even if it looks dead, you have to hit it a few more times.

If you learn something, you must put it into practice immediately. I struck the back of the zombie’s head a few more times.

The gruesome sight of blood and debris made people turn away.

“Do we really need to go this far?”

“It’s still a human body…”

I shook my head seriously.

“Humans don’t die easily. Zombies are humans too, so we can’t let our guard down. Just now, someone could have died.”

A chicken moves even after its head is cut off. A snake too, its severed head can still bite for a while.

Humans have a beast-like vitality. They can die from trivial things, yet survive stubbornly even with fatal wounds.

Only the uncle, who had grown significantly as a survivor, showed a practical attitude.

“Peace Villa youth, what was your name again? I forgot.”

“Kim Da-in.”

“Dai? Dying? Is that an English name?”

“No. It’s ‘Da’ meaning ‘many’ and ‘In’ meaning ‘virtue.'”

“Good meaning. Anyway, Da-in, being young, has adapted the best to these times. We should learn from her.”

The meaning doesn’t really matter. My late parents said they liked the sound of ‘Da-in’ and matched the characters accordingly.

The uncle crouched down. He reached out and rummaged through the corpse. After a hunt, comes looting.

“Let’s see. Who are you?”

He searched the pockets for car keys, wallet, house keys, and pulled out an ID from the wallet.

“Mr. Kim Gwi-sik. As a fellow neighbor, it’s regrettable that things have come to this. May the deceased rest in peace.”

A brief moment of silence.

It was a heartwarming scene. Who prays for the dead these days? Especially for a zombie that tried to kill me. This is the essence of neighborly love, the humanity left in the apocalypse.

Then, the uncle took out stickers, a notebook, and a pen, and wrote something.

A quick glance revealed he was labeling the house keys with addresses and noting them in the notebook. The car and house are resources too.

The short ritual ended. The uncle extended the pipe.

“Now, let’s find some food.”

***

We wandered around the vacant houses of Villa Street for a while. Sometimes we killed zombies inside, sometimes we cleaned up the corpses of those who committed suicide, and sometimes we released pets left to starve.

Naturally, the harvest was plentiful. Just the rice and kimchi alone were enough to sustain the street people for a while.

We lined up cardboard boxes on the street. Inside, the food was divided fairly. For those who searched the houses and for the elderly and weak who couldn’t.

A man with unhealed wounds on his face muttered as he looked at his share.

“Isn’t it a bit unfair to divide it equally? We risk our lives searching houses, while those who stay home get the same share.”

“No. They work just as hard.”

As a kind neighbor, I quickly stopped him. Not out of conscience, but because of the value of the elderly and weak.

Elderly? Children? Aren’t they energy-saving machines that eat less but do a full share of work? In fact, they weren’t just waiting for us at home; they were diligently farming.

They collected PET bottles and pots, planting seeds received from the Hope Community.

In the apocalypse, if you don’t work, you don’t eat.

The uncle quickly diffused the tense atmosphere. He pointed his metal pipe towards the apartment direction.

“Let’s not argue among neighbors. There aren’t many people left anyway. We have to think about those apartment guys.”

The external enemy.

Many street people were lost in that day’s clash. Some died on the spot, others succumbed to untreated injuries, and some were hunted by cunning zombies while seeking medical help.

And a battle where neither side was annihilated deepened the rift.

The people shared the same emotions. Anger, murderous intent.

“Those bastards. They stalled until the power went out, then surrounded and shot at us.”

“If they were sane, would they kill cops and steal guns? They’re just murderers.”

I fueled the fire.

“They’ll definitely come to kill and pillage. They need a lot of food to feed so many people. We must prepare to fight them.”

The apocalypse-honed survivors’ eyes turned red. A satisfying bloodlust.

“…Should we attack first? What can they do if we set them on fire?”

“If only we could get some guns…”

Now, resources weren’t the issue. There was an enemy across the river in the next neighborhood. We had to erase them to feel safe.

The uncle shook his head with a grim expression.

“No. They’re on high alert. I killed that traitor, and it made them even more cautious. They’ve fortified like a military base.”

He turned to me.

“Any good ideas? No more ignoring like last time. The more ruthless, the better.”

I looked troubled. I’m not an expert in this. Ideas don’t just pop up when asked.

Virus attack? Zombie saliva in water bottles? No. People are too cautious now; they boil water before drinking. I did that. What about cola or drinks? Or cat fur with zombie saliva? If they touch it unknowingly… Or cigarettes?

No. Too impulsive. A plan not meticulously crafted is no plan at all.

“I need to think about it…”

“Alright. Da-in, you think about the attack. I’ll handle the defense.”

And so, a fulfilling day seemed to pass.

As people went to distribute boxes to the elderly, they suddenly looked behind me. They set down the boxes and gripped their weapons.

I turned to see a neatly dressed man approaching.

***

A man in a clean suit, wearing cracked glasses, with an intellectual appearance. A young businessman in his 30s, he bowed quickly upon seeing us.

“Hello! I’m Sajihyeok! I’m looking to move in if there’s a vacant house. Is that okay?”

“Move in…?”

The people murmured blankly.

I focused on his name. Sajihyeok? A swindler? This light thought unconsciously slipped out.

“A swindler?”

“Haha. You’re amusing. I haven’t been teased about my name since school.”

…What? Did he just insult me subtly? But everyone around me has meaningful names. I’m virtuous, Jeondohyeong is the Electric Thief, Park Yang-gun is a thief.

While I was lost in thought, the people picked up their weapons. It’s not an era to welcome strangers.

A harsh voice followed.

“Are you from the apartments? Where are you from?”

“Ah, I lived in the apartments. A 30-billion-won apartment, but what does that matter now? Dividing by residence is a bit…”

A slick talker. At least he doesn’t seem to be from our enemy apartments. But we can’t let our guard down.

The uncle pointed his metal pipe at the corpse hanging from the street tree. The corpse swaying with its back to us.

“Hey. Go check what’s written there.”

Sajihyeok confidently walked over, adjusting his cracked glasses, and checked the sign.

“Prakchi? Ah. Prackchi. The pronunciation is savory, nice!”

What kind of person is this? Why does it feel like he’s mocking us?

Sajihyeok returned to the uncle and smiled confidently. Confidence worn like clothes.

“I’m not the type to do such things. I used to run a small business, but after the I-virus outbreak, everything went bust. I’m looking for a place to live. Is it okay to move here?”

I took a deep breath.

What kind of person is this? If the pastor was a thorough mystic, this guy just seems a bit off. Hard to judge.

The uncle, looking like he had a headache, raised his hand to his head but quickly lowered it. Probably wary of virus infection.

Frowning in thought, he took out one of the collected keys.

“We’re short on people in the neighborhood.”

The number of combat-capable people and the elderly is about the same. To fill the numbers, we’ll take him in for now.

The uncle pointed menacingly at the Prakchi corpse.

“Mess up, and you’re dead. We’ll find you and kill you. If you’re confident, take the key.”

“Ah, of course. Just give me work, and I’ll do my best. Right. Should I move these first?”

Sajihyeok took the key, smiled, and quickly lifted a box. Under our watchful eyes, he worked diligently.

Not secretly stealing food, not pulling out a phone, bowing and greeting people kindly.

Even as we subtly ostracized and excluded him, he smiled and tried to blend in. Like a kind neighbor.

 

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