Ch.5Chapter 1. Human Unprotected Zone (4)

“I don’t know who you’re looking for, but it’s not Hoot.”

“What happened to Hoot?”

“Don’t know.”

Silence. The man asks again.

“Did you put your hand on the fingerprint scanner of the bag?”

He already knows I touched it. That’s why he called. I don’t know how he managed it, but still.

“Yes.”

“Then I’m warning you, it’s best not to touch that part again. You might want to wrap it in cloth.”

“Why?”

“Because there’s a bomb in that bag. If someone who isn’t the owner touches it just one more time, it’ll detonate immediately. Everything within 50 meters will be wiped out cleanly.”

What had been just a somewhat heavy briefcase until now suddenly looked like a high-speed departure device to the afterlife.

“Better than I thought.”

“…What did you say?”

“Dying of thirst, getting shot, stepping on rusty nails and dying while limping around, crawling from hunger until you collapse, or getting bitten by zombies, suffering, dying, and then walking around again—a bomb blast is much cleaner than all that. Don’t you think?”

Those are just the endings I can remember from the dozens I’ve seen. Of course, I don’t want to die right now. Not unless there’s a guarantee I’d go to heaven, or rather, back to reality.

“I suppose it would be a luxurious death for someone who’s just a scavenger in the human non-protected zone. Just for your information, it’ll explode if you try to force it open or if we enter the detonation command from here. But I’d like to talk about hope too. When was the last time you used toilet paper?”

“What?”

“Do you use the bathroom comfortably? Ever stared down for a while when your pants are off, worried a zombie might bite off your privates?

And what about other human or infected scavengers in your situation? When they spot prey, they track it relentlessly for days, and while you’re nodding off, they slash your throat!

Peaceful sleep? Do you even remember what that’s like? You might survive now since your limbs are relatively intact, but you can’t live like that forever. Don’t you want to live somewhere comfortable?”

Not particularly. I prefer somewhere safe over somewhere comfortable.

“Of course I do.”

“Then I’ll give you residence rights in a protected zone, clean water, and a week’s worth of safely processed food. For both you and your companions.

It doesn’t matter if you’re infected. Those with residence rights can receive treatment too. You might not be able to stay in regular accommodations, but you can get proper medical care in isolation facilities.”

Isolation facilities? Those are like chicken coops.

“…Really? You don’t care if I’m a violent criminal or whatever?”

“Records like that can be erased, or if they can’t, we can make up a story. And honestly, everyone’s too busy surviving to care if you’ve killed someone or committed fraud. They’re struggling to save their own lives.”

“That’s true. But I’m guessing this isn’t free?”

“Of course not. This is a deal. As you’ve probably guessed, we really need that bag. If we could, we would have gone into the non-protected zone ourselves to get it.

But government guidelines are strict. Quarantine protocols don’t allow for any exceptions. We, who must uphold law, order, and rules, cannot enter that area. But you can come from there to our side.

It’s simple. We want the bag, and you need rest. As it happens, we each have what the other wants. Good deal, right?”

Sure. ‘Thanks for the bag. Now rest in peace. Bang.’ That’s rest too, I suppose. Wait a minute…

“Didn’t you say this was a bomb? You want me to deliver a bomb?”

“It’s not just a bomb inside. I thought you would have figured that out. The bomb is the last line of defense to protect ‘something more valuable.’

Sometimes a single truth can be more destructive than a hundred tons of explosives when it comes to shattering the world.”

This doesn’t add up at all.

If this bag was so precious, there would be no reason for it to be wandering around the “human non-protected zone.”

If the information was so important that they needed to attach a bomb and a tracker to the bag, they wouldn’t need to offer such sweet temptations to a “nameless street scavenger.”

“If this is so valuable, how did it end up here?”

He answers as if it’s no big deal.

“We’re tracking it from our end too. It’s an internal matter, so I can’t tell you more. Let’s not overthink this. Let’s focus on our business. Ah, one more thing.”

“What is it?”

“Officially, the government neither confirms nor denies this, but internally, they’re secretly recruiting volunteers for the first antibody clinical trial. In absolute secrecy, just a very small number.

Normally, when developing new drugs, they first conduct pre-clinical tests—animal testing—and analyze the results before administering to humans, but given the current situation, they’ve decided to administer directly to humans.

They’ve only managed to produce a small batch, so samples are limited. We don’t know how effective it will be. Even experts are skeptical, expecting little to no effect.

But, you know, if there’s even the slightest chance of a miracle, you should at least be prepared to receive it.

That’s why prominent politicians, military leaders, and billionaires are lining up. They’re willing to pour in power and money for the people they care about.”

“And?”

“I’ll put your name and your companions’ names on the preliminary list. It’s not the confirmed list, but I can get you on the preliminary roster.”

Antibodies.

They’ve been mentioned consistently in the development roadmap. But antibodies themselves never appeared in previous versions.

Even if they were introduced in this update, the developers had publicly stated that “antibodies in a zombie apocalypse would be endgame content, extremely difficult, lengthy, and painful missions.” So these “antibodies” they claim to have created probably won’t be very effective.

Of course, there are antibodies and cures in user-created mods. But even though I might have installed mods half-asleep, I didn’t touch anything related to antibodies or cures.

So the antibodies this person is talking about are either a bluff or completely ineffective. It would be fortunate if they didn’t make things worse.

But these conditions are too perfect for deceiving someone who doesn’t know better.

Living comfortably, receiving treatment for infection, and even getting antibody injections. Aren’t these exactly the kind of stories that would tempt someone abandoned in a non-protected zone?

They know what people here desperately want. And they’re trying to exploit that desperation.

So much so that people wouldn’t question why the reward seems disproportionate for simply delivering a bag.

This bastard, could he be…?

“You’re not falling asleep again, are you?”

“No. Just spaced out for a moment. Um, you’re really giving that to me?”

“I completely understand. It’s hard to believe. It sounds too good to be true. But we, and I, have that kind of power.

For example… how about a temporary ID that allows you to legally move around inside the human non-protected zone?

In principle, there shouldn’t be people in non-protected zones. But every government department has its own difficulties. With government agency approval, they tend to be quite flexible.

So if you present this, you won’t get your head blown off by police, military, or quarantine personnel you might encounter.

Of course, keep in mind this is only effective at close checkpoints, not against long-range fire. I’ll send it to your phone.”

Temporary ID. A familiar name.

While playing the game, I would occasionally pass through “controlled zones.” Even in a collapsed world, such places still had electricity and water running through their own systems, and you could take plenty of high-quality supplies that were abundant there.

The problem was, while controlled zones were relatively common to find, you needed an ID or security card to enter. A temporary ID would only allow access to the first floor, but with higher-grade cards, you could go deeper.

But even temporary IDs are quite rare, appearing about once every 20 minutes. Proper security cards are almost mythical and trade at high prices on the black market.

And now this guy is offering me a “temporary ID.” No reason to refuse. However,

“There’s a problem. This phone is locked with a password. I can only take calls, that’s why we can talk.”

“Is that so? Then I’ll hang up for a moment. Before that, what’s your name?”

My character’s name has always been the same. A name easy to pronounce for both Koreans and foreigners.

“Johan. And you?”

“You can call me Hans.”

The call ended, and the phone screen displayed “Initializing…”

After waiting a bit, “Welcome” appeared. The format was complete. “Connecting… Call Escape Zone” remained the same.

The phone rang again. The caller’s number was clearly visible now.

“If you need anything, you can contact this number. I just sent you a message, please check it.”

Ding. A cheerful notification sound.

* * * * *

<Temporary Transit Permit>

Name: Johan.

‘The above person is carrying out duties for the Military Police, so please cooperate with their work. Expiration date: April 30th, midnight. Authorized by Virginia Helford, Commander of the 8th National Military Police of the Elsa Independent Democratic Republic.’

* * * * *

A well-made fake.

It looked convincing at first glance. They had even included a barcode and made efforts to follow the proper format. Someone who didn’t know better might be fooled. But it was fake.

A “real” temporary transit permit includes date of birth and gender. It’s one of those maliciously designed items—if you unknowingly place it against the barcode reader in a controlled zone, you’ll be killed by automated turrets.

How do I know? Because I died falling for this trap as a newbie.

This guy is definitely a scammer.

And that item is probably the same. Maybe it’s not just a bomb inside. If it’s something valuable and important to a scammer, but something they don’t want to touch themselves and need someone else to handle, especially in a zombie apocalypse situation, what could it be?

“Where should I take this bag?”

“To the nearest human protected zone, of course. We’ll meet you there. According to the map, the outskirts of Hampton City is closest. Do you know where that is? Can you make it?”

My suspicion hardened into certainty. I knew it, this bastard. Trying to con someone.

“Of course I know. About three or four days north. That’s if the roads were intact. I don’t know how long it will take now. I’ll contact you when I arrive. Until then, I’ll keep the phone off to save battery.”

“Take care, Johan. I’ll be waiting for your call.”

The call ended.

“Good.”

First, I packed my belongings. I can eat a little while traveling. It’s already afternoon. I need to find a safe place before sunset.

Not just a location. This bag with a small radio base station, tracking device, and something beyond a bomb inside.

It’s something that shouldn’t exist in this world, but that makes it extremely attractive to someone, and I could sell it for a high price.

“Let’s find a buyer.”

I placed the luggage in the bicycle’s front basket. It could easily support the weight of a briefcase.

I had no choice but to carry the pink backpack with Barbie dolls printed on it on my back. It was an item that would draw too much attention for a grown man to carry, but I couldn’t cover it with cloth that might be contaminated with the zombie virus.

Finally, I check the knife. I scraped it against the front door. The blade was quite sharp. I even did a bit of carving while I was at it. I securely fastened it to my belt with the sheath.

Ring-ring. I ring the bell playfully. Under the somewhat chilly April sunshine and the clear blue sky, I pedaled away from the house that was still emitting smoke.

Toward the silence where not even birds chirped.