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The video call suddenly cut off. An image of a family photo as the background flashed in my mind. A father, mother, and two kids who seemed already dead. They were in a place like an amusement park, wearing strange headbands and holding balloons.

It was a peaceful past that would never return. Perhaps it could even be a memorial photo. I tightly gripped the Kid’s Mom’s mobile phone.

“…”

Without saying a word, she abruptly stood up and walked away with big strides. It seemed like she was going to look for the kids.

There was no reason to stop her. The Uncle also just quietly watched her. Only after the door closed and a few seconds passed did he slowly open his mouth.

“Her heart must have left. The kids are in danger, and there’s no one to help them.”

It was only natural. This wasn’t something anyone could help with. A school overrun by a Zombie Horde, streets where zombies could gather at any moment, and rescue missions with no benefit. Donating to the school or contributing to education funds was one thing, but risking your life wasn’t easy.

After all, Villa Street wasn’t exactly a tightly-knit group.

I projected the Kid’s Mom’s resentment and individual actions onto everyone.

“Anyone’s heart could easily leave. These are people whose faces we barely knew, just gathered because we happened to live on the same street.”

“That’s right. Family, friends, relatives, companions—people who are nothing to each other.”

The Uncle’s gaze deepened. It seemed like resignation, or perhaps a long-buried suspicion finally blooming.

Even though he had managed to lead Villa Street, it seemed he had now realized the true nature of the Villa Street Survivor Group.

“People who were forced together by the pressure of disaster. It wouldn’t be surprising if it collapsed tomorrow.”

“Of course. Betrayal can happen at any time.”

People gathered solely for the benefit of survival, so if the group couldn’t provide that benefit or if a greater benefit was presented, they could turn their backs at any moment. I was no exception.

I pointed toward the farm villa.

“The farm is operational, and resources are sufficient for now. But if something runs short, or if a stronger group comes to recruit us…”

“It’ll turn into a traitorous mess. A vicious one at that.”

The Uncle looked down at his own hands. The hands that had fought apartment residents and personally hanged traitors.

The warning of losing one’s life only makes betrayers more ruthless. If you wipe them out, there’s no fear of revenge.

“Virus terror, fires, internal attacks… It’ll be fatal.”

“It’s not far off.”

I fell into thought for a moment.

It’s summer. Zombies. Rainy season and typhoons. Heat. A crumbling city. Depleting resources. Every day will be a struggle to survive, and you never know how the psychology of people pushed to the extreme will explode.

There might be people stealing street resources and fleeing, or leaking information about indoor farms to join other groups. In extreme cases, they’ll spew all kinds of venom.

Of course, adversity could also bring people closer, but… isn’t it foolish to rely solely on that hope?

‘A small, elite group of pillagers is the way to go.’

Friendship forged through crime. The numbers needed for pillaging. A history that leaves no place to go even if you betray. Isn’t that the ideal Apocalypse organization?

I slightly raised my head and looked at the Uncle. He wasn’t a Pillager Companion, but he had some talent. If I could recruit him too…

The Uncle, shaken in his goal of organizing and maintaining Villa Street, looked at the ground with a lost expression, and I watched that expression closely.

‘Is it too soon?’

It didn’t seem like the right time to recruit him. It would only be possible after some catalyst further shook his spirit.

Plus, this guy had a suspicious nature, so he’d probably be suspicious of my actions too. Like the different name I used at Hope Church and now, or the murder that happened at my villa.

I neatly postponed the idea and stood up.

“I’ll head back to the farm.”

“I’ll go with you. I have work to do too.”

And so, the Uncle and I returned to the farm villa. The people at the farm looked at us worriedly, as if searching for someone who wasn’t there.

“Where’s the Kid’s Mom?”

“She went to pick up the kids who escaped.”

“Oh no.”

People sighed and exchanged words. No one stepped forward to offer help or support.

That’s how ambiguous the bond was. A small help, sure, but no one would risk danger to help. The distance between people. Ambiguous camaraderie and companionship.

So, while it was the right time to betray, I decided to stay quiet, bide my time, and observe a bit longer.

***

By sunset, the work was mostly done. Farming was underway, broken windows were replaced, and rice soaked by rain was dried.

We also moved the piles of trash for hygiene, searched for edible weeds growing on the streets, and were busy chasing away zombies.

There was simply too much work. With the collapse of the modern, specialized society, everything we once ignored became work.

“Is the Kid’s Mom still not reachable? She hasn’t come back yet.”

“Calling her might just alert the zombies.”

As the sun set, casting shadows over the street with the Cross, people heading home chatted and fiddled with their phones. They seemed worried, as neighbors and fellow Survivor Group members.

Sajihyeok, with a dark expression, suddenly blurted out.

“If she hasn’t come back by now, she’s probably dead.”

“Don’t say such things.”

“Ah. Maybe she went to heaven?”

People grimaced and hit Sajihyeok. Realizing his mistake, he awkwardly took the hits.

I swung a hammer in the air, lost in other thoughts.

‘Weapons. We’re most lacking in weapons.’

Hammers are the extent of our firepower. The handgun I have only has a bullet or two left. Guns, bullets, bows, and arrows are all in short supply.

Without firepower, we can’t do anything, and we can’t survive. We’ll become prey for others.

Then, a shout came from beyond the street.

“Zombies are coming!”

At the edge of the sunset, three figures appeared. The Kid’s Mom and two small kids. And behind them, zombies chasing. Eerie screeches echoed one after another.

People ran to their homes without looking back, and I ran too. No one made a sound.

We couldn’t celebrate their return or curse them. It wasn’t the time.

At the stairs of Peace Villa, Park Yang-gun and Jeondohyeong crowded in, hurriedly climbing the stairs. Jeondohyeong gasped for breath and spoke.

“Still, it’s good they’re back—”

“You idiot, hurry up and think about how to chase the zombies! Shoot a slingshot or pour boiling water!”

I slowed my steps slightly. The noise coming through the stairwell window seemed a bit quieter. Turning my head to look down the street, I saw some zombies turning away at the sight of the Cross.

‘What? Is the Scarecrow effective? I only poured paraffin on it.’

Or not? Other zombies were still running. The ones turning away were zombies with burns or hardened paraffin pieces stuck to them.

Only the ones who had entered Villa Street before and suffered remembered and turned away.

And so, people managed to escape with less damage than expected. The kids and their mom too.

***

Later, as everyone huddled in their homes catching their breath, a message popped up in the group chat. Asking if everyone got in safely, how the kids were, why they didn’t call ahead if they were bringing zombies…

The Kid’s Mom apologized, the kids proudly posted photos like they were showing off loot, and the busy stream of messages ended on a warm note.

I quietly watched the chat and then asked a question.

– What happened to the school? What about the people who participated in the rescue?

After the Kid’s Mom said she didn’t know, the kids quickly replied.

The adults who came closed the school’s main gate and retreated but got surrounded and died, they hid in various parts of the building and moved slowly, and there’s a really nasty zombie.

I tapped the table.

“The police and the archer died?”

So, does that mean their equipment is just lying on the street? The weapons we’re most lacking?

The dilemma deepened. Should we risk going out to scavenge for weapons? On streets teeming with zombies?

In my head, the pros and cons clashed fiercely. Weapons are the top priority, but the streets are dangerous… All kinds of reasons, counterarguments, and counter-counterarguments flooded my mind.

I quietly looked out the window. Evening had fallen. Somehow, the electricity still worked, lighting up the night streets, and the sound of boiling water being poured by Villa Street residents occasionally echoed.

How long can we defend with boiling water? Once electricity and gas are cut off, tools and weak slingshots will be all we have.

My thoughts narrowed down to one.

“We have to go, even if it’s dangerous.”

The streets are, of course, dangerous. But we’ll have to go out eventually. When food runs out, when antibiotics are needed for injuries, when the water supply is cut off…

The future isn’t much different from now. To get the resources we lack, we have to go out. Right now, it’s weapons we’re short on.

And with weapons, it’ll be easier to get other resources in the future.

I changed my clothes. All black, with a black mask I’d saved and leather gloves for winter. Under the cover of a blackout, I’ll go as quietly as possible and bring back weapons.

 

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