Chapter 170

               

People began to edge closer to Sweeper, watching him carefully. He didn’t sense any murderous intent.

Their goal was obvious—his backpack, his food. That was all.

Sweeper also suppressed his killing intent. They were a little cocky, but there was no need to kill them and make things worse.

Two men slowly spread out, clearly planning to grab the backpack and run.

People around glanced over, but nobody seemed inclined to intervene. Watching the men approach, Bora gripped the backpack tightly.

“Hey, kid. You can let go of that.”

“But…”

“They won’t be able to touch it anyway.”

That kind of confidence.

Bora relaxed a little at his calm attitude.

The people creeping closer suddenly rushed in.

Four came at him. Two aimed for the bag. Their plan was clear: four would pin him, and the other two would snatch the bag.

Sweeper sprang forward and kicked the first man in the stomach.

“Gah!”

It happened in the blink of an eye. One second he’d blinked, and the next a man was rolling on the floor, a pained groan escaping from the sudden, inhuman speed.

Sweeper immediately turned and stomped the next attacker’s knee.

“Aagh!”

Before the third could collapse, he struck the one on the right with his heel, cracking him in the jaw.

With a savage whoosh, the man crashed down hard. One man clutched his stomach, another his jaw, and another his knee, all groaning in pain.

Sensing the situation was going badly, the last three hesitated awkwardly.

Sweeper grinned and rushed them.

He ducked under outstretched arms, hooked his arm between a man’s legs, and hurled him to the floor. In an instant, all six were taken out.

Bora gasped, and people all around murmured in amazement.

Sweeper walked toward the man who had talked the most. He tried to crawl away, but Sweeper grabbed him with a strong hand.

“W-what… wait—”

“Hey. The boss has to take responsibility.”

Sweeper twisted his arm behind his back, planning to break it as a warning—he’d make sure the man was out of action for months.

“Bye, man. Don’t mess with me again.”

“Ahhh! Aaagh!”

Sweeper tightened his grip until the man screamed, his cries growing louder and louder as the pain rose above the general commotion.

“Lieutenant!”

Just then, a voice called out urgently as a noncommissioned officer ran over with soldiers. He’d probably rushed over after hearing the report.

Seriously, right when things were getting good.

With a sigh of regret, Sweeper gave one last twist and let the man go, feigning nonchalance as he stood up.

“I went easy—just a sprain, really. You can thank me for that.”

“Ugh, urgh…”

He nudged the groaning man with his foot, dusted off his hands, and bowed politely to the approaching NCO.

“Lieutenant, what happened here…?”

“Oh, nothing much. Just a little self-defense—these guys tried to rob me. Hahaha.”

The NCO glanced at the six sprawled men, his expression troubled. They were notorious for frequent complaints. The NCO nodded and directed the soldiers,

“Guys, get these men to the infirmary.”

“Yes, Sergeant.”

Then Sergeant Sung approached Sweeper. No matter how troublesome those men were, they were still civilians under military protection. He needed to deliver a stern warning about violence.

“Are you hurt at all?”

“Not at all.”

“Still, Lieutenant, incidents like this…”

“It’s unfortunate, I know. The soldiers work so hard to maintain order—who knows why these guys had to cause a scene. Right, Bora?”

Sweeper glanced at Bora, who nodded emphatically. The sight of a skinny elementary schooler clutching her backpack, on the verge of tears, was more than enough to sway sympathy.

“They’ll think twice about causing trouble now.”

“Haha…”

“Come on, Sergeant, what’s with that laugh? You’re not blaming me for this, are you? It’s all a misunderstanding. Right, everyone? Was I causing a disturbance?”

Sweeper grinned at everyone around, but nobody would meet his gaze or answer.

Sweeper turned back to Sergeant Sung with an innocent look.

“See, Sergeant?”

“Well…”

Isn’t everyone just scared?

“Oh, by the way, Sergeant, I heard you’re leading the first mobile strike team. Why not have a smoke before you go? I saved a whole pack just for you.”

“Really?”

“Of course! Let’s go up and finish our discussion about shelter security over a smoke.”

“Sure, sounds good.”

“I knew we’d get along. Hahaha.”

Sweeper clapped the sergeant on the back, throwing an arm around his shoulder as they headed off together. Sergeant Sung, half-dragged along, turned and called to his soldiers,

“Check on the civilians in the infirmary and report back.”

“Yes, Sergeant.”

He looked back, giving the soldiers a nod, and they broke up the crowd with reluctant expressions.

Sweeper tossed Bora the bathhouse locker key.

“Bora, put this in the bag locker and bring the key to the smoking room.”

“Huh? Uh… Mister, you’re really good at fighting.”

“Of course, kid. So don’t ever mess with me.”

“When did I ever…”

Sweeper waved her off and went upstairs to the smoking area.

To the survivors watching, he was now firmly marked as the scary survivor—friendly with the soldiers, plenty of food, and dangerous to mess with.

They looked at him the way people look at a bomb that might go off at any second.

—

That evening, the commander gathered all the soldiers and civilians in one place. Though the space looked big, with six hundred people sitting down, it felt pretty full.

The word was out that there would be an announcement, and everyone sat around, worried and anxious. Sweeper and Bora found a seat in the corner.

After a short wait, the commander descended from upstairs and walked to the front of the gym.

“Attention, please!”

A soldier with a booming voice quieted the crowd. The commander began to speak.

“Hello, soldiers of Unit 8771, and residents of Bucheon City. I am the commander in charge of this shelter.”

His calm but firm voice carried easily through the room. Whether he was respected or just had authority, everyone seemed to focus on him.

“I know you’re struggling without relief supplies. This is all my fault and my responsibility. We waited for government aid for days, but there was never any response. It seems even the government has suffered just as much as us.”

That was a thunderbolt for people who’d been holding on, just waiting for rescue.

It’s over.

The world is finished.

Murmurs spread.

“But! Don’t worry. We will absolutely protect you.”

At his strong voice, the crowd quieted again. Still, a few angry civilians shouted,

“How does protecting us change anything?”

“We need food!”

“That’s right!”

The commander raised his hand, calming them. Morale was plummeting. Just as he’d feared, the crowd was nearing its breaking point.

“Don’t worry. There’s a plan. Lieutenant Steven.”

The commander looked directly at Sweeper and beckoned him.

Caught off guard, Sweeper’s eyes went wide as he pointed at himself and looked around.

Me?

Me?

“If you would, please come up here.”

Well, if he’s going to ask so politely, I guess I’ll go…

Sweeper hesitated but walked forward. Stares hit him like daggers from every direction—the same looks they gave the troublemaker earlier.

When Sweeper reached the commander, the man raised Sweeper’s hand high.

“This man is a Korean-born officer dispatched from the UN. He’s here to help rescue everyone here.”

It was like a thousand exclamation points appeared above everyone’s heads at once. Hostility and suspicion instantly flipped to respect. Hope. And anticipation.

It was a heavy burden.

Looks like I’ll have to make my getaway sooner rather than later, Sweeper thought to himself.

“Is it true?”

One brave young man shot his hand up.

“If you want, come up and check my ID.”

The young man ran forward and carefully examined the ID Sweeper handed over, finally letting out a long breath.

“It’s real…”

“So everyone, just stay safe and follow our instructions until help arrives. If anyone disrupts order or ignores the military’s instructions, we may, sadly, have to stop protecting you for the sake of everyone else’s safety.”

Game over.

Nearly everyone was completely taken in by the commander’s words. He was both a capable officer and a politician.

“Understood?”

Everyone nodded as one. Then a woman holding a child raised her hand.

“But the kids are starving. There’s barely any water. When will the rescue come?”

“I can’t say for sure. But what I do know is that we’ll need to work together and hang on as best we can.”

“Oh no…”

“Don’t worry, survivors.”

The commander continued in a firm voice.

“Starting today, our unit will organize a mobile strike team to collect civilian supplies from outside. We won’t let any of you starve. Sergeant Sung.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You’re ready?”

“Yes, sir.”

Sergeant Sung nodded and called over the others. A sergeant and eleven privates lined up in a row. Their determined faces brought a bit of hope to the crowd.

“Come back safely from your mission. All our hopes rest on your shoulders.”

“Yes, sir.”

Sergeant Sung and the first strike team saluted and set out, watched by all the survivors.

It was a kind of performance. And if everything went according to plan, it would work perfectly.

But.

Exactly twenty hours later, the soldiers who had gone out returned empty-handed.

Only half of them made it back.

Even more zombies had gathered around the gym barricade.

At dawn, the mother of a fallen soldier who’d been brought to the shelter took her own life.

It was the first signal of tragedy.