Chapter 40
Someone was attending to personal matters in the rooftop garden. What kind of business, Yohan didn’t need to see to know.
For the first time in a long while, Yohan felt genuine awkwardness. His hand, extended toward the door handle, hesitated.
Such things were part of human nature. Yohan wasn’t about to stop them, nor did he have any right to. But now wasn’t the time for this. He had to confirm the source of the earlier sound.
Still, he couldn’t just barge in and say, *“Excuse the interruption during your… uh… passionate moment, but could you help me locate some motorcycles?”*
As Yohan wrestled with his dilemma, a familiar voice came from behind him.
“Hyung?”
It was Jung-hwan, looking puzzled.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
“Uh…” Yohan faltered.
Before he could come up with an excuse, a faint moan filtered through the metal door, perfectly timed to amplify the awkwardness.
*“Ahhh…!”*
Jung-hwan’s face contorted into an expression that was difficult to describe.
“Hyung…”
“Looks like I should check the parking lot, huh?” Yohan said, trying to change the subject, assuming Jung-hwan was there for the same reason he was.
But Jung-hwan’s response was more shocking than Yohan expected.
“Hyung, is this your thing?”
“What?”
“I mean, I respect your preferences, but I didn’t think you’d be into eavesdropping like this…”
“…What?”
“It’s fine, I get it. Everyone has their thing.”
Yohan stared at Jung-hwan, utterly dumbfounded, before breaking into a hollow laugh.
“Jung-hwan.”
“Yes, hyung?”
“Stop talking nonsense and let’s head downstairs.”
Despite Yohan’s firm tone, Jung-hwan continued his lecture on respecting others’ preferences as they descended, until Yohan finally cuffed him on the head and dragged him away.
—
“Look over there,” Jung-hwan said, pointing.
“Are they the ones?” Yohan asked as he raised his binoculars.
From the fourth-floor parking lot, he observed faint movements in the darkness. While the details were unclear, the flickering headlight beams gave away their presence.
He had found them.
Estimating their numbers was difficult, but it was certainly not a small group. Yohan tracked their movements carefully until the lights disappeared.
“They passed by the hospital, moved toward Yakdaedong, and now they’re heading for Sangdong Station,” Yohan noted.
“Do you think you know where their camp is?”
Yohan shook his head.
“If they had a fixed base, they wouldn’t have lasted this long. Those guys…”
He paused before continuing.
“They’re nomadic. No fixed camp.”
“Huh?”
“They seem to move wherever they want, whenever they want.”
These raiders weren’t a group that had been in Bucheon all along. Over the past six months, while observing the apocalypse, Yohan had never seen a group this conspicuous. They must have come from another region.
Nomadic raiders constantly moving from city to city. That’s how they managed to stay safe from zombie waves and mutations.
By analyzing their current position, Yohan could roughly guess their movement pattern. They were circling the mart in a wide arc, like hyenas stalking their prey—watching, waiting for the right moment to strike.
It was clear they were aware of him and his camp. And now, his camp was aware of them. A confrontation was inevitable.
—
Back in his quarters, Yohan deliberated over his options: should he strike first or wait and counterattack?
Both options had advantages and risks. The decision weighed heavily on him.
—
At dawn, Yohan woke the search team. The first priority was to secure critical supplies for upcoming battles.
The team headed straight for Bucheon City Hall, a massive building shaped like the letter *“ㅗ.”* The area around it was cluttered with abandoned vehicles, adding to the desolate atmosphere.
City Hall was one of the locations Yohan had initially planned to search but had delayed due to other priorities. The main item he sought were radios.
For the safety of the camps and to coordinate separate operations, a large stockpile of radios were essential. Yohan had no expectations for weapons; those were unlikely to be found outside military bases. Radios, however, were vital.
Following Yohan’s lead, the team searched the CCTV control center, situation room, and communications room, securing nine radios. Seven were operational.
After finishing their search, the team moved to Jungdong Police Substation. The station’s armory and storage areas had already been looted, but they managed to recover a revolver and another radio from a zombified detective.
Yohan distributed the radios after syncing their frequencies. They were given to the guards at the mart and hospital, as well as to Gap-soo, Jung-hwan, and the entire search team. Even after that, three radios remained.
—
“Let’s call it a day,” Yohan announced. “Everyone, head back to rest. I’ll distribute firearms this afternoon. Hajin, take the lead.”
“Where are you going?” Hajin asked.
“To pick up more firearms.”
“I’ll go with you.”
Yohan shook his head. The journey to Gachiwool was too far to walk, and he planned to use a motorcycle stored in a department store parking lot.
“Hajin, I’m counting on you to lead.”
“Got it.”
Yohan parted ways with his group and headed directly to the first shelter. The decision to distribute firearms, after much hesitation, finally felt like the right call.
The camp survivors had undergone physical and mental preparation, with trust firmly established under Jung-hwan’s leadership. Since the zombie wave, there hadn’t been a single major incident. While their skills might still be lacking, they had followed Yohan’s lead diligently and with determination.
Honestly, Yohan didn’t want to lose a single person moving forward.
It was time to act. Hesitation and indecision now could lead to devastating consequences later.
Resolute, Yohan began packing firearms and ammunition into a duffel bag. Most were Browning Maxus shotguns—not particularly effective against zombies, but deadly enough in human confrontations.
With the duffel bag securely strapped to his back, Yohan kick-started his motorcycle.
—
Meanwhile, Sweeper stood outside a classroom, listening to the soft voices leaking through the door.
“What happened?”
“A few days ago, scary people came on motorcycles… They suddenly started killing the teachers and the soldiers…”
“They just started killing? Without any reason?”
“I don’t know… The deputy commander tried to stop them from barging in, but they suddenly…”
The girl trailed off, tears overtaking her words. Her crying seemed to spread like a contagion, with others sobbing throughout the room.
“They killed people as they ran… and then they… they stripped the women…”
The children recounted the horrors they’d witnessed, things no one should endure—let alone children. Sweeper’s stomach churned at the thought.
“When everyone in the tents was killed, people tried to run into the classrooms. We hid in a hurry, but… it was so scary…”
After listening to the children’s stories, Sweeper quietly left the classroom, lighting a cigarette as he stepped outside.
A few months ago, these children would’ve been attending classes, making memories that would last a lifetime. Now, they were thrown into a vile and corrupted world, tossed about helplessly. The things they had seen, the things they had survived—Sweeper couldn’t even imagine.
“Damn… what a filthy world.”
Leaning against the schoolyard’s wall, Sweeper lit one cigarette after another, venting his frustration. A stray zombie wandered toward him, drawn by the smoke, and Sweeper angrily dispatched it with a sharp jab to the head.
*Tsssk.* He pressed the button on his radio and called Yohan.
“Boss, it’s me.”
After a brief pause, Yohan’s voice came through.
-“I’m listening.”
“Did you check?”
-“Yeah. There’s a marking on the wall.”
“Those bastards…”
They left their marks everywhere.
-“What about your side?”
“It’s a temporary shelter, guarded by soldiers.”
The static-laden radio forced Sweeper to keep his report concise.
“They’re protecting students. They’re not a threat.”
-“Got it.”
Yohan’s response was curt, as if it aligned with his expectations.
“The place was attacked. Those guys came here too.”
-…
“What should I do?”
-“What do you want to do?”
“I’ll do whatever you say, boss.”
-“You saw it firsthand. You decide.”
Yohan’s voice came through again after a moment of silence.
-“Your call. Head back, kill them, or bring them along.”
“Understood.”
That was the end of their exchange.
Deciding to observe for a bit longer, Sweeper returned to the schoolyard. With nightfall approaching, he climbed to the rooftop, keeping watch for any lingering marauders.
As he stared at the desolate cityscape, the sun dipped below the horizon, and the world turned dark. He extinguished his cigarette and began searching for a place to sleep.
He chose a classroom not too close to, but not far from, the survivors. Sweeper tipped over a steel cabinet, lined it with spare clothes, and created a makeshift bed. The closed cabinet provided complete darkness, perfect for a safe rest.
At some point, sunlight seeped through the cracks in the cabinet, waking Sweeper. Morning had come. Slowly, he opened the cabinet door, wincing at the squealing sound it made. The noise was louder than expected, startling him.
Nearby, a rustling sound drew his attention.
Sweeper looked toward the source of the noise and saw two teenage girls staring at him with wide, frightened eyes. They were mid-change, half-dressed.
Sweeper blinked.
*“Oh… well, this is quite the view.”*
The words slipped out before he could stop them.
The girls looked ready to scream, their expressions frozen in shock. Sweeper quickly put on his brightest smile and raised his hands placatingly.
“Ladies, I’m sorry for startling you. I’ll just—”
“KYAAAH!” The girls’ shrill screams echoed through the building.
“—leave quietly…” he finished, wincing at their piercing voices.
The girls scrambled backward, knocking over desks and chairs in their panic. From outside came shouts: *“What’s going on?”* *“Who’s in there?”*
“Shit… Sorry about that, ladies. No hard feelings.”
With a sheepish grin and a wink, Sweeper bolted for the back door, flinging it open and disappearing into the hall.