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Amateur radio equipment was set up in the conference room, probably scavenged from somewhere. It looked pretty serious too.

As I plopped down on a chair and casually placed the machine gun, the people focused on communication started glancing at me one by one.

“Are you here? Did you hear the news? Are you hurt anywhere?”

The hospital director in a white coat scanned me up and down. His gaze was searching for injuries. It was a gentle yet professional look, but I shook my head awkwardly.

“I was lucky, didn’t get hurt. But what’s with the radio equipment?”

Despite appearances, this is a guy who turns poison into cocktails. There’s no one here you can relax around.

Scavenger Mr. Ho chuckled.

“There was a house with a long antenna. It looked useful, so I took it all.”

“Don’t you need a license for that? Seems like you’d need to study enough to pass an exam to use it properly.”

In this world, the line between legal and illegal has already blurred. Qualifications didn’t matter. But the knowledge to use the technology was always necessary.

Amateur radio was a hobby where people enjoyed wireless communication, and it seemed to require quite a bit of expertise.

‘Professor Kim said it could be useful in a disaster situation.’

From my perspective, with no related knowledge, it just looked like a mysterious machine.

But even in this world, people have stubbornly survived, and of course, there were experts among them.

“There was an amateur radio operator. We recruited him right away. He set this up and taught us how to use it.”

Rider Zero tapped the helmet on her lap as she spoke. Her eyes seemed to gaze into the distance.

“If it works well, we can connect with more people, farther away. People from other cities, or even other countries.”

Hmm. Wouldn’t that just attract weirdos?

Of course, it could replace the communication network that went down at some point, allowing us to get news from abroad or other cities, but there was also the risk of danger.

As I thought that, a cold, reciting voice was heard.

“Well. It’s either live or die. Let’s give it a shot.”

It was the archer with an eyepatch. Whether it was because of the tense situation or the threat, his sharp personality was fully revealed as he grabbed the radio.

A reply came through the radio.

– We have something to say. We’d rather fight than starve to death.

The relatively clear voice belonged to the company commander I had seen at the market before. But the tone was different. The voice that once had confidence and dignity was now filled with venom.

– Do you think we can’t commit terrorism? Improvised explosives? We can make them better.

For a moment, everyone in the conference room froze.

Come to think of it, that’s true. The military has proper explosives. Just attaching a string to a grenade pin or putting a grenade in a cup makes a great trap, and if you use artillery shells…

Biochemical weapons weren’t far off either. Aren’t zombies basically virus generators?

But perhaps because they thought they couldn’t afford to lose the battle of wills, the archer continued to speak chillingly.

“Fire renders it all meaningless. If we set the whole city on fire, everyone dies. There are no firefighters to put it out.”

– Stop bluffing. Aren’t we all just trying to survive?

Not me. I clicked my tongue inwardly and looked around at the bleak humans. People focused on survival instead of dreams like self-realization or achieving goals.

No one lives a fulfilling life like me. To me, with my joyful purpose as a pillager, where purpose becomes life, they seemed pitiful.

To waste such talent when they have the makings of an outstanding pillager…

The company commander’s voice, mixed with static, came through the radio.

– We just want food to feed our kids. There are so many who couldn’t return after their service ended, but we still need to feed them, right?

At that point, the archer put down the radio and looked around. His one eye rolled.

“Seems like we’re in a negotiating mood now. Who wants to do it?”

People shied away one by one. The position of leading the negotiation, while tempting, required prioritizing ability since the military wasn’t to be underestimated.

The police officer leader and Mr. Ho shook their heads and pushed their chairs back.

“Not my job. I’m good at fighting, not persuading people. My attitude is bad enough to get complaints.”

“Me neither. Unless it’s picking up trash.”

Others reacted similarly. The Electric Nomad refused in disgust, and the firefighter turned their head away, saying no.

After a struggle reminiscent of choosing a group project leader, the Evangelical Elder from Hope Community and Rider Zero from the Delivery Vigilante Group were chosen as candidates.

“Will the Elder do it?”

“…No. Unlike the pastor, I lack the ability to persuade people.”

The Evangelical Elder spoke bitterly, seemingly recalling the pastor who had sadly passed away.

Compared to the pastor who rebuilt a fallen church, the Elder, who could barely manage the church the pastor left behind, seemed to feel inadequate.

The Elder quickly gestured toward Rider Zero, urging her to take the radio.

“You were the one who first noticed the military’s movements and proposed the alliance. You do it.”

Rider Zero didn’t refuse further and stood up, heading for the radio. Her once neatly trimmed short hair from the early days of the apocalypse now looked roughly cut with kitchen scissors.

I quietly watched her back.

‘Is she really like a pastor?’

I thought of her simply. A human clumsily caught up in romance. Using her foundation as a delivery rider, turning letters and deliveries into tools for survival.

But what if she really has the ability of a pastor? The ability to attract people, connect them, and gather strength. Wouldn’t it be right for her to meet the same end as the pastor?

***

The negotiation proceeded in a form closer to a truce. A buffer zone was established, and beyond that, no suspicious actions. No drone surveillance or entering armed.

This was possible because there were still resources left in the city.

Just raiding a few apartment complexes would yield plenty of food.

They also agreed to exchange necessary resources in the buffer zone.

“You have chickens? Really?”

– Not many. Many died or were swept away during the typhoon and rainy season. But we can exchange eggs.

Rider Zero already seemed to be thinking of her group’s cook, swallowing her saliva. Just having eggs would significantly improve the quality of meals.

No, eggs themselves were precious. Fresh food, huh? The people who had been quietly focusing on communication couldn’t hide their excitement, their legs shaking as they stood up.

Rider Zero quickly added.

“What about green onions, onions, garlic?”

– They all rotted and died. But we haven’t said what we want yet.

The company commander hesitated, then quickly listed their demands.

– Medical support, communication support, and, diesel. Is that possible?

The excited people sat back down awkwardly. Medical was fine. Communication was fine. But diesel?

Rider Zero quickly lied.

“We have diesel, but it’s all past its expiration date. It’s absorbed a lot of moisture.”

– Don’t lie. We’ve sent people to gather information. We heard the Delivery Vigilante Group stockpiled oil with stabilizers.

No wonder they quickly suspected the alliance.

They must have suspected the alliance as soon as I attacked.

Then, the archer suddenly grabbed the radio and sharply retorted.

“No oil. We can’t give you materials for military vehicles.”

– So medical and communication are okay? Good.

The argument went back and forth like that. I quietly listened.

When asked if they had any government news, the company commander replied that communications were cut off after the typhoon, and when asked if they had radio equipment to that extent, the alliance replied that their equipment wasn’t that advanced yet.

No one mentioned the dead. The survivors killed by the military, the two squads I killed. They spoke and acted as if they never existed.

That’s the kind of world it was.

***

While the negotiation dragged on, I went outside. In fact, the conflict was clumsily resolved with just one skirmish. For now, at least.

‘It won’t end like this in the fall.’

It’s the tail end of summer. I looked up at the bright sky, gauging the coming fall. The zombie outbreak that started in March continued until September. So much had disappeared in that time.

I counted the things that had disappeared one by one, folding my fingers.

Electricity, moral concepts, water supply, vegetables and fruits, milk, internet and communication…

‘More will disappear.’

How long will the gas last? For now, the gas is somehow maintained, but eventually, there won’t be the ability to produce and transport gas.

What about food? How much food has spoiled in six months? Even ramen has a six-month shelf life.

Oil too. Oil also has a six-month limit. Many resources couldn’t last that long.

“The famine of fall…”

Rice might last, but would the stuff buried in places with no people stay intact? Absorbing moisture, growing mold, eaten by bugs.

Even farming has failed in this world. This fall won’t be a season of harvest. It will be a season of scarcity, and the winter at the end of fall will be a season of death.

I stared blankly at the heavy machine gun.

Suddenly, the words of a survivor I met on the way back after killing the squad came to mind.

– How long do you think you’ll live?

That’s right. How long can you live? A year, two years, even if you manage to survive, it’ll be a life much shorter than the average lifespan in a normal world.

So you have to live a fun life without regrets.

I wandered back to the mercenaries. It was time to gather the mercenaries who had outlived their usefulness after the conflict was resolved.

The mercenaries sitting under the tree shade stood up when they saw me. I asked them.

“Any resources you’re lacking?”

 

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