Chapter 21: Hope

Click-

I frantically hit the light switch, then hurriedly patted myself down.

Had I been shot? I couldn’t feel any pain now, but with adrenaline pumping, would I even notice a bullet wound?

‘Ah, thank goodness.’

No bullet wounds. No bleeding, no holes in my body. The pastor hadn’t switched to lethal rounds after all.

If that first shot had been live ammunition…

A chill ran down my spine. I didn’t want to imagine it. Instant death would be bad enough, but even just getting wounded would be terrible. Hospitals were dangerous enough these days as it was.

I quickly went over the lessons learned from this incident.

‘Pull out at the slightest suspicion. Don’t fight directly. Get medical personnel.’

Around then, Do-hyung approached.

“Pastor…!”

His voice boomed through the hall.

Glancing back, I saw Do-hyung trembling as he stared down at the pastor’s corpse with blood trickling from it. His face was pale, not even wearing a mask – he must have really rushed over.

Understandable to be scared after nearly getting shot.

I smiled and nodded.

“Do-hyung. Well done. Thanks to you, I was able to kill the pastor. Thank you.”

“I… I did…?”

Being modest? I decided to play along, giving specific praise for what he’d done well.

“You drew his attention, so I could shoot safely. One wrong move and I could have died.”

“Ah, ah.”

Do-hyung collapsed like his legs had given out. His hands came together as if to pray before flailing aimlessly in the air.

I slowly frowned. This wasn’t the reaction I’d expected. Had he already been brainwashed by the religion? Well, even I had almost fallen for it.

Either way, there was no need to worry further. He’d killed someone by closing a door before, seen zombies and people die right in front of him – he’d get over it eventually.

More importantly, I needed to stage the scene.

‘The bullets first.’

I picked up the pastor’s gun with my gloved hand. Two live rounds remaining.

One would go to refill the gun I’d return to the thieving elder. The other round I hid in my hoodie pocket. This way, no one would know whose gun had killed the pastor.

Then I went back into the room. Had to check if there was any dying message recorded on his phone.

A low voice came from behind me.

“What now? Why did you kill the pastor?”

“We need to take over the church.”

I answered lightly. But sensing that wasn’t enough explanation, I added:

“Pastor got zombie blood in his mouth anyway. This was preventive – better to deal with it early when it’s less dangerous and we can prepare properly. In three weeks when he turned into a zombie…”

“Ah…”

I continued explaining while looking around the room. Since I’d never mentioned this plan before, I needed to show my talented marauder member a bright future.

Like a new comrade.

“Where do you think I got this gun in the first place?”

“You killed an elder?”

The immediate response. I turned around in disbelief.

“No. I wouldn’t just kill someone for no- well, getting a gun is reason enough, but I don’t just kill randomly. I’m not crazy.”

“…”

“The elder cooperated. Said this was more beneficial. Now we’ll reduce the religious aspects, fortify properly, gather talented people – move in a more hopeful direction.”

Do-hyung, who’d been watching me with gloomy eyes, hung his head. Clenching his fists, he spoke in a weak voice:

“You won’t harm the other church people, right?”

“They’re all labor – why would I harm them?”

Farming, defending, gathering resources – people were power.

Losing interest, I focused on what I needed to do.

The pastor’s phone on the desk. When I pressed the power button, the screen lit up showing the title of the video he’d been watching:

How to be Self-Sufficient in the City / Professor Kim

A video by the professor I’d introduced as my teacher. Next to the phone was a notebook where the pastor had been studying diligently. I read the most recent line:

What can we grow in the soil where we removed the sidewalk blocks?

Something I’d mentioned in passing. His answer:

Potatoes? Turnips? They grow well even in poor soil.

Strange emotions washed over me as I slowly flipped through the notebook. Pages densely filled like a Bible.

Nothing but questions, research, and answers. Like the pastor’s still unknowable personality, not a single personal thought was written down.

My head turned suddenly to look at the pastor’s corpse with the hole in the back of his head.

‘I really don’t get it.’

Curiosity came too late. What kind of person was he? What did he think about? Did he really have antibodies? Did he truly believe he was chosen?

So many questions I wanted to ask, but they were already buried in the past. No way to know now.

I looked back at the notebook. Potatoes and turnips. My eyes closed.

‘Pastor. We’ll carry on the hope you left behind.’

Hope isn’t material. Just as gold and guns can’t be hope, neither can material antibodies. True hope is something spiritual.

I pictured the pastor’s face in my mind after the Chairman and Professor. A leader who suggested the ultimate form of plunder and skillfully handled betrayal.

Their teachings lived on in me, and these teachings would become a beacon of hope lighting up the world. Just like this church named Hope.

“Pastor. I’ll develop the community you left behind well.”

“You’re really insane…”

And so morning approached, the sun rising with the light of hope.

I deliberately didn’t sleep. Though extremely drowsy, it was for authentic acting – to show bloodshot eyes.

I spoke slowly in a hoarse voice to the elders gathered around the pastor’s corpse.

“We heard gunshots in the early morning, and when we went to check, he was already… The first floor window was open, they must have come in through there…”

“This, this.”

The elders all looked down at the pastor with shocked expressions. Like their faith was crumbling, like they doubted reality, like they were in despair.

Everyone’s minds seemed paralyzed by the intense shock.

But as always, irrational emotions emerged after the fearful shock.

“A traitor…”

“Judas! We have a Judas among us! A scumbag who sold the pastor to Satan!”

A witch hunt. A mafia game that wouldn’t end until someone was strung up and killed. And I was confident. Confident I could take down others instead of myself.

‘Seven people. Me and the thieving elder makes two. Roughly two gone, recruit one more and the church is mine.’

As I was thinking this, an attack suddenly came my way. The elder in charge of security and prevention pointed at me accusingly.

“You! What were you doing all night? You live at the church, you should have protected the pastor!”

“I… I woke up as soon as I heard the gunshot but…”

I squeezed my eyes shut. Showing weakness, the security elder raised his voice further:

“If you’d just handled security properly in the first place-“

“Security elder. Isn’t this your fault? Why weren’t the windows secured? If they’d just been locked…”

Right on cue, an assist from the thieving elder. Opening my eyes slightly, I saw the security elder jump up red-faced.

“You thief! You, you. You did it! You’re the only one who could sneak in at night!”

The thieving elder didn’t back down. Like he’d been holding back a lot, he shouted angrily:

“Thief, thief! Am I the kind of thief who steals lives? I’ve never fired a gun except during military service!”

That was true. He’d just lent me the gun.

Around then the evangelism elder cleared his throat. Looking at the back of the pastor’s head, he said:

“He died from a gunshot. You all have guns, right? Let’s take them out. See if any bullets are missing.”

“Here, look!”

The thieving elder was first to draw his gun, and the other elders hurriedly took out theirs too. Soon their gazes turned to those without guns.

Passing over the grandmother and me who never had guns, they focused on the administrative elder with his pale face.

The administrative elder waved his hands frantically.

“No! I just gave mine to my daughter! The world’s dangerous these days! For self-defense-“

“You? Was it you?”

“It really wasn’t! Why would I!”

After staying quiet, I raised my hand. The distrustful elders looked at me with bloodshot eyes – they looked like zombies themselves.

“Deacon Kwon. What?”

“Is there anyone who would benefit most if the pastor died?”

That question brought momentarily puzzled expressions. As if such a thing couldn’t be possible. But the elders, with suspicion already rooted, found their own reasons and created a culprit.

The elderly man with white hair, the service elder. The elder who managed believers helping with farming and labor.

“Service elder.”

“Why look at me like that? What would I gain?”

The service elder spoke calmly, but it didn’t work. One by one they threw out accusations.

“You were originally an elder, weren’t you? With the pastor gone, you’d become the leader.”

“Could you have wanted the church…?”

The service elder sighed.

“At my age, would I want such things? If you’re so suspicious, I’ll leave. Looking at how things are going, that seems best. With the pastor gone, there’s no reason to stay.”

With those final words, the service elder turned away. His slumped shoulders and heavy footsteps receded.

The security elder kicked the wall with a thud, then grimaced as if his toe hurt.

“Ugh. Already shooting at each other, there’s no future… Let’s just split up the stored food and go.”

“Aha! Here’s the real thief! Was that your goal? The stored food?”

No sooner had the thieving elder sneered than the security elder snapped. Click – he aimed his gun. The thieving elder didn’t back down, putting his finger on the trigger.

Indeed, the thieving elder showed his marauder talent. The nerve of someone with nothing to lose. His eyes curved nastily.

“What? Going to shoot me like you shot the pastor?”

I couldn’t help but admire it. How did he mix in lies as naturally as breathing?

That’s when a trembling cry rang out.

“Stop, please stop… I’m scared. Why, why…”

It was the grandmother. Like a child, tears streamed down her face as her body shook. I quickly moved to support her.

“It’s okay. It’s nothing. Everything will be fine.”

While comforting her, I glanced around. The thieving elder and security elder looked ready to shoot each other. I showed signs of tension, as if afraid of them.

The two men fell silent for a moment. Finally they both sighed and lowered their guns at the same time. Deep fatigue and faint fear shadowed their faces.

“What’s happening to us.”

“…At least the pastor went to heaven. He was such a good person, that must be why he was taken early.”

As the mood shifted, the evangelism elder shook his head.

“We can’t trust the police enough to report this. And there’s the gun issue. Let’s take care of the pastor first. We can’t leave him like this.”

“Oh, right.”

The situation was roughly settled. I naturally passed the grandmother to the thieving elder, then watched for a chance to approach the security elder.

“Security elder.”

“…What.”

“Are you leaving the church?”

The security elder frowned deeply.

“Why do you ask?”

“Well, with the pastor gone, it seems the church can’t continue. Would you come to the supply room with me, if you don’t mind?”

When I spoke discreetly, the security elder looked around. Fortunately, everyone else was busy dealing with the pastor’s body.

The security elder gave a small nod.

“Let’s go.”

We naturally headed to the supply room. The door swung open, revealing the resources piled inside.

Near the entrance were disinfectant, masks and ramen. Further in were rice, seaweed, hardtack and canned goods. And sacks of salt and sugar.

“When did all this…”

The security elder’s eyes widened as he strode in. In other words, he showed me his back. I silently raised my hammer.

Maybe he sensed something. The security elder turned around, but far too late.

“Deacon Kwon, what are you-“

His pupils dilated as the hammer loomed larger. I struck without mercy. A dull impact. With a short “Ugh,” the security elder staggered. His hand instinctively went for his gun.

I swung the hammer again. That was the end. He collapsed like a puppet with cut strings.

I let out a belated cry of alarm.

“Oh my god! Security elder! How could you try to steal! Even threatening me with a gun! Wait, there are live rounds in your pocket too?”

My hands moved quickly. I stuffed the live round I’d taken from the pastor’s gun into the security elder’s pants pocket.

I struggled to hold back a laugh.

‘The service elder left on his own. The security elder died taking the blame. The thieving elder’s on my side. The administrative, evangelism, and grandmother? Get just one of the three and we have a majority? Or keep the three from uniting…’

The scale would shrink, but the community would be useful.