RE: Survival - Chapter 16

That evening, the atmosphere at the camp was unusually cheerful.

They freely lit candles they’d been rationing. With a large candle covered by a mood lamp, one area was brightly illuminated.

They even indulged in beer found at the warehouse. Alcohol wasn’t an essential item, after all. Since it was a rare taste of alcohol that the H Department Store group hadn’t taken, people were visibly uplifted.

“Still, what are we going to do with that water tank?”

They’d found a water tank, but didn’t know how to connect it. They left it for the moment but needed a way to draw water from it.

“Yohan.”

Old Man Park approached Yohan, who was sipping his beer.

“Oh, sir.”

“Gun has woken up.”

Yohan and Hyuk stood up simultaneously and rushed toward the infirmary.

When they saw Gun, his condition was far from good. Sitting at an angle on the bed, sweat poured down his pale face.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like I’m going to die.”

His voice was weak. The low, breaking tone sounded concerning.

“Your fever is high.”

He didn’t seem infected with the zombie virus; he would have mutated by now if he were. So, it wasn’t an infection, but his condition was still dire. He had lost a lot of blood, and his untreated wounds were festering.

Surviving this long was almost a miracle.

Gun’s consciousness was faint, as if it could slip away any moment.

“I don’t think I’ll make it. My consciousness keeps slipping.”

“Don’t say that.”

“No.”

Gun shook his head weakly, and finally, Hyuk, who had been holding back, burst into tears.

“Yohan, I know it’s selfish, but…”

Gun spoke slowly, pausing after each word.

“Please, take care of Hyuk.”

“Sure.”

Without hesitation, Yohan answered, and Gun smiled faintly.

“Strangely, I feel like I’ve known you for a long time, even though we just met.”

“Do you?”

He had no memories of the world before his return, nor did he know that he’d been reborn. Perhaps it was Yohan’s familiarity toward Gun that made him feel that way.

Had he unconsciously treated Gun like an old friend?

Gun turned his gaze to Hyuk.

“Hyuk.”

“Brother… Brother…”

“My beloved little brother.”

Hyuk’s sobbing continued.

“Please, never lose hope.”

Gun’s voice grew weaker, and he used his last bit of strength to speak clearly.

“Stay alive. And don’t be a fool crying like this, or you’ll lose your manhood. Silly, I know. But live for me too. And, Hyuk…”

“Ah… uh… ugh…”

“No matter how hard it gets, don’t lose your humanity. You have to help others to stay human. Remember that, Hyuk.”

Hyuk’s sobs filled the room.

Gun clasped Hyuk’s hand tightly.

“Yohan, let me use a bullet. I’m… in too much pain. I’m cold, dizzy… It feels like my arm is on fire.”

“No. Bullets are too precious.”

“Are you… joking?”

“You just told Hyuk not to lose hope, didn’t you, idiot?”

Yohan remained silent. The words to hold on, to resist until the end as long as he was breathing, never came out. Gun’s waning complexion made it impossible.

Death’s inevitable shadow was drawing near.

Yohan exhaled heavily from the depths of his chest.

He didn’t have the right to prevent Gun from seeking peace.

“Let him go peacefully.”

“…Should I do it?”

“No. I can’t burden you with that. I’ll do it. But… give me a moment alone…”

Yohan nodded and handed over the revolver, then held back the frantic Hyuk.

“Let’s go.”

“Brother… Brother!”

Behind Gun’s faint smile, Hyuk was dragged out.

A gunshot echoed.

—

**Zombie Wave**

—

**March 2017**

Three months into the zombie apocalypse.

In the past.

Yohan stood on the rooftop, surveying the area around his base. In his hand was a pigeon bleeding from an arrow wound.

He threw the pigeon in the direction where the most zombies were visible. Zombies began to approach from afar.

Zombies were gradually accumulating around Yohan’s base.

It was intentional.

The more zombies around the base, the better it was at keeping out intruders or uninvited guests.

Without considerable courage or skill, no one could break through the throngs of zombies to invade his base.

He tugged on the rope that connected the rooftops of two buildings a few times. Despite repeated use, it was still securely in place.

The rope was the only safe passage back to his base. Even if someone managed to break through the mass of zombies and enter, the traps set near the doors and windows would ensnare them.

The footrests, windows, and all handles were embedded with nails and needles, coated with infected blood.

Even if an intruder somehow made it inside, infection would ensure their demise.

Hopefully, it wouldn’t come to that.

“Who would risk their life to enter a regular house, not even a supermarket or convenience store?”

Yohan had a more pressing concern.

Securing firearms.

He was well-prepared with weapons, but firearms were an absolute necessity for a different reason.

While it was easy to assume firearms would be used for protection, the handguns or shotguns typically available at gun shops or police stations were impractical for hunting large groups of zombies, given their noise and the inconvenience of reloading.

The crossbow, with its low noise and quick reload capability, was his weapon of choice.

However, it was different when facing people. In human combat, firearms represented resources and firepower, both directly tied to survival and authority.

For Yohan, the most dangerous opponent was one with a grudge and a gun. At the very least, to him, a gun was a weapon meant to kill humans.

The question was, when would he secure firearms?

If he went as far as Bucheon City Hall, there was a large gun shop, Gyeonggi Gun Store, and a police station. But going too early meant risking chaos among survivors and infected mingling, and potential entanglements with other survivors.

On the other hand, going too late could mean finding an empty arsenal.

Yohan judged that three months was the ideal time and had waited for it.

Descending from the rope, Yohan felt a heaviness in his step. The road ahead seemed blocked.

There were limits to what he could carry alone, and transportation would be difficult. It was going to be a grueling endeavor.

He sighed, shouldering his duffel bag.

—

Yohan took his first step at the entrance of Wonmi Mountain. The duffel bag was light but cumbersome, hindering his movement.

Getting there was one thing, but the real problem would be the return trip. He’d have to haul the loaded bag back over the mountain.

The streets were still overrun with zombies, so Yohan chose the less-traveled mountain route. This took time, but he avoided people. All he encountered were a few zombies.

He sat on a rock at the entrance of Wonmi Mountain and chewed on some jerky. Factoring in a three-day round trip if he moved at a steady pace, that was the time he’d allowed himself to secure firearms.

Behind him came a growl. Without looking back, Yohan drew his knife and extended it backward. The growl ceased with a familiar sensation.

He took out his map and confirmed the location. Gyeonggi Gun Store, Bucheon Police Station. A 20-30 minute walk. The gun store was his first choice, and the police station his second. This order of priority was clear; he’d inevitably encounter others, or zombies, at the police station.

A few minutes later, Yohan turned toward Somyeong intersection from Mulmae intersection. He paused, looking around. Not a single zombie was in sight.

Yohan’s figure vanished from the road.

On a nearby rooftop, people observing him frantically radioed in.

“This is Rainbow. The target has vanished. Over.”

On the library rooftop, a hooded figure scanning for Yohan with a sniper rifle jumped up, searching below in frustration but found no trace. Disappointed, he muttered to himself.

“A crossbow and a duffel bag… Looked like he was worth robbing, but he’s disappeared like a rat.”

The hooded man lowered himself, assuming a sniping position again, when suddenly he felt something cold and sharp against his head.

“Quiet. Move even a little, and I’ll shoot.”

“…”

“You have three seconds for every action. Step away from the gun.”

The hooded man didn’t take long to comply. He sensed the genuine intent behind the weapon pointed at him. He stepped back.

“Kneel, lace your fingers behind your head.”

The hooded man obeyed.

Yohan took the gun, packed it in his duffel bag, and pocketed the radio.

“How did you know we were hiding?”

“Keep your voice down.”

The man lowered his voice and asked again.

“How did you know?”

“There were no zombies on the main road.”

“So, you figured out people were hiding just from that? How’d you know we were here?”

“If there aren’t any zombies on a main road, it means someone controls the area. Then I saw dead zombies with head wounds nearby. This is the tallest building around.”

“Impressive.”

Yohan pulled a fishing line from his shoe and began binding the man’s hands and feet.

“Did you have to use something so filthy?”

“Don’t worry. I don’t have athlete’s foot.”

“Well, that’s comforting.”

“How many are in your group?”

The hooded man gave a mocking chuckle.

“I don’t sell out my comrades.”

“Is that so?”

Yohan didn’t ask again. He searched the man for valuables, gathered what he found, and turned away. The man called after him.

“I’ll find you, and I’ll kill you.”

Yohan stopped and turned.

“Is that right? Then maybe I should kill this future threat now.”

“W-wait! I was just saying that!”

The hooded man tried to take it back, but Yohan’s crossbow was already aimed at his head.

“Too bad. I don’t leave threats alive.”

Yohan fired the crossbow, and the arrow struck the man’s forehead.

As the hood fell back, revealing the face of a woman, Yohan turned away indifferently.

He glanced at the tag on the gun before moving on. The Gyeonggi Gun Store had already been looted. Armed looters were nearby.

He stood at a crossroads.

Hunt down the looters and retrieve the firearms.

Or head to the police station.

Yohan didn’t ponder for long.