Chapter 96

The large box the old man handed over contained bulletproof vests. About twenty in total. More than enough to fully equip the reconnaissance team.

Acts of generosity without expectation often felt burdensome, but Yohan did not refuse. It was a gift too valuable to turn down.

“Thank you.”

Yohan neither hesitated nor lingered on any doubts. Even if they did not travel together, these people had their own role to play. Allies in the inland.

If something were to happen on land, they would serve as the first line of defense and share information about the inland situation with him.

Yohan sincerely bowed his head to the old man.

“You’ve been a great help. And I’m sorry for the deaths of your comrades.”

“You’re still hung up on that? What a petty bastard. Look around. Do you see anyone here who still cares about that?”

Yohan glanced around at the mercenaries waiting nearby. Those who met his gaze either winked or smirked. It was their way of saying, We fought together, even if only for a few days.

Useful people. There might come a time when they would fight alongside each other again.

“Good luck. Until we meet again.”

“Yeah, drop by every now and then.”

Yohan then turned his gaze to Kim Jung-mi. A look of regret was evident on her face as she clasped his hands between both of hers. Yohan subtly tried to pull away but let out a quiet sigh and patted her shoulder.

“Take care of yourself, Jung-mi.”

“Once again, we won’t be able to go together.”

“We both have people to look after.”

“…Yeah.”

Jung-mi rubbed her face roughly, then forced away her disappointment with a bright smile. She was beautiful.

A person who helped others purely out of goodwill—something he could never do.

But for that very reason, they could not walk the same path.

He could only hope that, despite the state of the world, she would never lose that mindset, that her goodwill would never be shattered by disaster.

“Our promise still stands. Next time we meet, we’ll go together for real.”

Yohan gave her a silent nod.

They would survive. He was sure of it.

—

After traveling for a long stretch on the national road, Yohan’s group finally reached the highway as the sun hung halfway on the horizon.

There were no casualties, but the prolonged tension had worn everyone down. Most of the combat team members were covered in dark zombie blood, smeared all over their bodies. The front-line fighters, in particular, were practically drenched in it after every battle.

Yohan had been moving back and forth between the front and rear, backing them up to the point that his breath was ragged.

Especially during moments like earlier, when zombies appeared from both the front and rear at the same time.

— Rear unit here. Cleared thirty-six zombies approaching from the six o’clock direction.

“Any injuries?”

— None.

“Good.”

After confirming Kang Hajin’s report, Yohan paused his steps and moved back to the center, climbing onto a transport truck to scan the surroundings with binoculars. From the front, he could hear the faint growls of zombies.

Progress was slow. The roads were more cluttered with abandoned vehicles than expected, and the zombies kept coming.

Roads that had long been untouched by survivors. That meant the zombies there remained intact, acting as constant obstacles to their advance.

Whenever a horde appeared, the team resorted to crossbows, zombie spears, and slingshots, doing their best to take them down quietly.

Naturally, their pace slowed to a crawl.

“Take it slow, just make sure we get through this without casualties.”

— Roger.

At this rate, it would take about a week to reach their destination. But that was fine. Better to be slow and safe than to have anyone die needlessly.

They were moving forward. Slowly but surely.

“Ugh…”

The scorching heat radiating from the asphalt hit Yohan like a wall, causing him to momentarily catch his breath.

The heat. On the road, it was a worse enemy than the zombies.

And the ones fighting against the heat weren’t the civilians or technicians, but the combat team. Unlike those who could stay inside air-conditioned vehicles, they had no choice but to step outside and fight through the hordes. If they collapsed from heatstroke or dehydration, that would be a serious problem.

— Yohan!

His radio crackled to life with Sweeper’s urgent voice. Yohan immediately grabbed the radio.

“Yeah, what is it?”

— Got some bad news, and some real bad news.

“Spit it out, both of them.”

— The bad news first: one of our forklifts broke down. That idiot foreman is checking it out, but it’s gonna slow us down.

The “idiot foreman” was a former construction vehicle operator from a worksite.

— And the real bad news: a horde of zombies is coming from the south, moving north.

Yohan’s brows furrowed.

“A zombie horde? How big?”

— No idea. Damn, maybe a thousand? Two thousand?

“Speed?”

— Not a full zombie wave. Just their usual pace.

Great timing.

Trouble never came alone. But Yohan had anticipated this possibility.

“Handle it, Sweeper.”

— On it.

No further explanation needed.

They knew this journey would be difficult, filled with countless variables. If they were on an overpass, it would have been easier. But the fact that they were on open ground complicated things.

Avoiding combat was the priority, and they still had time. Yohan quickly relayed the situation over the radio.

“Attention, everyone. Two thousand zombies approaching from the south, heading north. Sweeper will try to divert them—move fast while he does.”

Zombies had no intelligence. It was unusual for so many to move together like this, but it wasn’t the first time they’d seen it happen.

Moments later, a few gunshots rang out. Then, Sweeper’s voice came through the radio with a troubled tone.

— Yohan, we’ve got a problem. They’re not changing direction. A few are breaking off, but most of them aren’t budging. Are they deaf or something?

Yohan’s expression darkened.

What the hell was going on?

“The zombies aren’t following the sound?”

— That’s what I’m saying! We need a plan, fast…

It wasn’t a zombie wave. But the fact that zombies were moving toward a single point, ignoring all other potential prey along the way?

Yohan had never encountered anything like this before. But instead of dwelling on the anomaly, he focused on the immediate threat.

“Estimated time of arrival?”

— Ten minutes!

Sweeper had probably factored in safety and given a tight estimate, so they realistically had about twelve to thirteen minutes. Yohan quickly relayed instructions.

“Everyone, maintain spacing and move slowly backward. Leave the vehicles and supplies behind—just fall back toward the toll gate. Sweeper, keep them distracted and regroup with the vanguard. I’ll confirm things myself.”

Jumping off the transport truck, Yohan sprinted diagonally across the area. The group had already been dealing with zombie encounters on their way here, but in this particular region, the undead had been especially aggressive. And now, the ones in this approaching horde were no different. Their strange behavior felt ominous.

Yohan entered a moderately tall building.

Screeech!

A zombie lunged at his face without warning.

Yohan ducked sharply, flipping the zombie over his back before stomping its head in. Then, using the momentum, he leapt upward, climbing the building until he had a clear view of the horde.

From the rooftop, he narrowed his eyes as he observed their march.

It was definitely more than two thousand. Maybe even more than that.

If they had been in a narrow space, they might have stood a chance. But out in the open? That was suicide. Right now, it was two thousand, but the moment they fired a shot, every zombie in the vicinity would converge on them.

A battle of that scale would mean losing at least ten people at minimum. At worst, half their group could be wiped out.

Yohan lit a signal flare.

The hiss of burning fuel shot up into the sky, leaving a trail of smoke. Even if the zombies couldn’t hear well, they should at least be able to see the smoke and move toward it.

That was the expectation, at least.

But only two or three zombies reacted, while the massive horde continued on as if nothing had changed.

He had heard it from Sweeper, but seeing it with his own eyes was something else entirely.

“How am I supposed to interpret this…?”

Determined not to miss a single detail, Yohan carefully studied the zombies from start to finish.

Using high-powered binoculars, he scanned the entire procession, searching for any signs of abnormal mutants.

Nothing. No variants.

Then what the hell was this formation?

A new rule? A new pattern beyond just mutants and zombie waves?

None of this was good news. The only silver lining was that their second shelter was on an island instead of the mainland.

If they could reach the shelter and destroy the Incheon Bridge behind them, they could drown as many zombies as they wanted in the ocean.

Yohan focused on the horde, watching them pass through the area where their supplies and vehicles were stationed.

If a horde like this had overrun the Bucheon Union Camp…

The thought alone was horrifying.

— Yohan, everyone’s moved past the toll gate.

“Good work.”

Yohan confirmed that his team had safely retreated. Keeping his distance, he followed the zombies’ path from behind.

They had avoided immediate disaster, but he couldn’t shake the unease weighing on him.

Would they suddenly change direction toward his team?
Would they erupt into a full-blown zombie wave?

Two thousand.

He had relayed their numbers accurately, and his team would be setting up defenses at the toll gate. It wasn’t the worst location—there were plenty of abandoned vehicles for cover, and the toll booths themselves provided a decent barricade.

Even if they had to fight…

No.

Yohan immediately shook his head.

Against this many, there would be casualties. It was better to scatter and regroup than to engage directly.

He could only hope this variable would pass without incident.

Tick. Tock.

It felt like he could hear the ticking of a grandfather clock in his head.

Under the relentless sun, sweat poured down Yohan’s face as he remained motionless, waiting. The stench of the horde was beyond nauseating.

He felt like eating literal shit would be less revolting.

The column of zombies was so long that he had plenty of time to think.

Thoughts about what this horde signified.
Thoughts about what consequences their movement would bring.
Thoughts about their origin.

For nearly four years now, he had seen zombies every day. He had long since stopped questioning them.

What were they?
What caused them?
If something created them, then who and why?

Until now, survival had been his only concern, so he had ignored these questions.

Knowing the “why” wouldn’t provide a solution, nor did it create any obligation to fix the problem.

It wouldn’t magically give him extra lives, either.

But the real issue here was the inconsistency.

Everything about this—mutant zombies, zombie waves, and now this coordinated procession—felt too unnatural.

Someone or something was orchestrating this.

Because none of it made sense otherwise.