Chapter 36: Kind Neighbor

Perhaps it was seeing blood in life-or-death combat, but the villa district people were finally starting to show signs of being true apocalypse survivors.

The man had relentlessly tracked down the traitor and hung their corpse from a street tree. The neighborhood people no longer feared combat. Instead, they eagerly took up weapons with bloodthirsty gleams in their eyes.

Though the apartment raid failed, they’d grown through that failure.

I liked it. Good thing the marauder members hadn’t managed their virus terrorism. These people would do fine to live alongside for now.

‘Separate living spaces, minimal rules and obligations, and a residence that can handle zombie waves.’

So I acted as a friendly neighbor and member of the villa district.

Static crackle-

“Door’s open.”

“Stun gun works well. Thanks.”

The villa door disabled by the taser. Not my Peace Villa, but another empty house in the district.

A third floor unit hard to reach by ladder. A treasure vault with food sleeping inside.

And naturally, treasure vaults came with threats. Zombies. We assessed movement beyond the door, and the man raised his fist and shouted a battle cry.

“Safety! First!”

“Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!”

In response to our shouts meant to draw zombies, there was movement. Clear sounds of something charging from behind the door.

We kept shouting while taking familiar formation. One person gripped the handle pressed against the door, another held up a makeshift net woven from thin blankets, while the man adjusted his grip on his steel pipe.

“Open it!”

“Opening!”

The door burst wide. The opener hid between door and wall. The zombie charged wildly but tumbled, tangled in the thrown blanket net.

“Kraaah!”

Blunt weapons rained down noisily on top of it.

“Kill it!”

“Watch for more inside!”

Thud thud thud thud, dull impacts fell like rain. Dust flew everywhere as red stains spread across the blanket.

Soon the zombie’s struggling stopped. People sighed in relief.

“Good thing there was just one.”

But the relief was premature. I gripped my hammer, eyeing the blanket suspiciously.

As the net handler started rolling up the blanket – the crouched zombie suddenly raised its head. Blood and drool dripped from its torn mouth as it sprang up like a coiled spring, bloodshot eyes filled with killing intent.

“Graaaah!”

“Oh!”

Though it stumbled, leg seemingly broken, it lunged desperately –

I swung my hammer casually, as if I’d been waiting. Clang, a crisp sound and solid impact. I muttered quietly:

“Just as I thought, falling doesn’t mean they’re dead…”

Confirmation kills were essential for both zombies and humans. Even if they seemed truly dead, you had to hit them a few more times.

When you learn something, you should put it into practice right away. I struck the sprawled zombie’s head several more times.

People turned away from the grotesque sight of spreading blood and debris.

“Is- is this really necessary?”

“They were still human, doing that to corpses…”

I shook my head seriously.

“People don’t die easily. Zombies are still human, so we can’t let our guard down. Someone could’ve just died a moment ago.”

Chickens can move briefly after decapitation. Same with snakes – their severed heads can still bite for a while.

Humans had that same bestial vitality. They could die from minor things yet stubbornly survive seemingly fatal wounds.

Only the man, grown as a survivor, showed a somewhat practical attitude.

“Peace Villa youth, what was your name again? I forgot.”

“Kim Da-in.”

“Die? Dying? An English name?”

“No. Da from ‘many’ and In from ‘benevolent’.”

“Nice meaning. Anyway, Da-in’s adapted best to these times, probably being young. We should learn from him.”

The meaning didn’t really matter though. From what my parents told me, they just liked how “Da-in” sounded and matched the characters later.

The man crouched down. He reached out to search the corpse. After the hunt came looting.

“Let’s see. Who are you.”

He dug through the corpse’s pockets finding car keys, wallet, house keys. Then read the ID from the wallet:

“Mr. Kim Gwi-sik. As a fellow neighbor, I’m deeply sorry it came to this. May you rest in peace.”

He observed a brief moment of silence.

It was a touching scene. Who these days would pray for the dead? Especially for a zombie that tried to kill us. This was true neighborly affection, humanity remaining in the apocalypse.

Next the man took out stickers, a notebook and pen, writing something down.

Peeking over, I saw him labeling Kim Gwi-sik’s house key with the address and recording it in the notebook. Cars and homes were resources too after all.

The brief ceremony ended. The man extended his pipe.

“Now, let’s look for food.”

—

We spent quite a while going through empty houses in the villa district. Sometimes killing zombies inside, sometimes dealing with suicide victims’ corpses, sometimes releasing starving pets to the streets after their owners vanished.

The haul was substantial too. Just the rice and kimchi alone would keep the street’s people going for a while.

We laid out cardboard boxes on the street. The food was divided equally in the boxes. Shares for both those who searched homes and the elderly and weak who couldn’t join the search.

Someone with unhealed face wounds muttered while looking at their share:

“Isn’t it unfair splitting it equally like this? We risk our lives searching houses while people who stayed home get the same amount.”

“Not at all. Those people work just as hard.”

I quickly stopped him as a friendly neighbor. Not from conscience, but for the value of the elderly and weak.

Old people? Children? Weren’t they energy-efficient machines doing a person’s share of work while eating less? They weren’t just waiting at home for us – they were busy farming.

Gathering plastic bottles and planters, planting seeds received from Hope Community.

In the apocalypse, you couldn’t eat without working.

The man quickly smoothed over the atmosphere that was turning strange. He pointed his steel pipe beyond the street, toward the apartments.

“Let’s not argue too much between neighbors. There aren’t many of us left as is. We should think about those apartment bastards.”

The external enemy.

Many street people had disappeared after that clash. Quite a few died on the spot, some died alone unable to treat injuries, others were hunted by cunning zombies while seeking hospitals.

And battles without total annihilation deepened conflict.

People shared the same emotions. Rage, killing intent.

“Those crazy bastards. Stalling until blackout while surrounding us, then shooting to kill us.”

“What sane person kills police and steals guns? They’re just murderers.”

I poured oil on the fire.

“They’ll definitely come to kill us and loot. They need lots of food to feed that many people. We need to prepare to fight them.”

The survivors honed by the apocalypse showed bloodshot eyes. Satisfying killing intent.

“Should we strike first? What could they do if we set fires?”

“If we could just get guns somehow…”

Resources weren’t the issue now. Right next door were mortal enemies who’d crossed a point of no return. We couldn’t rest easy until they were wiped out.

The man shook his head with a grim expression.

“Can’t. They’re extra alert now. Even more since I killed the spy. Set up like a military base.”

He turned to me.

“Got any good ideas? Won’t ignore them like last time. The more vicious the better.”

I showed a troubled expression. I wasn’t this kind of expert. Ideas didn’t just pop out because someone asked.

Virus terrorism? Zombie saliva in water bottles? No good. People were too wary now, boiling water before drinking. I did it myself. Maybe soda or drinks? Or zombie saliva on stray cat fur? If they touch it unknowingly… Or cigarettes?

No good. Too improvised. Plans without refinement weren’t plans at all.

“I need to think about it…”

“Sure. You think about attacking. I’ll think about defense.”

The productive day seemed to be ending.

People about to distribute boxes to the elderly suddenly looked behind me. They set down their boxes with concerning expressions and gripped weapons.

When I turned around, a well-groomed man was approaching.

A young businessman in his 30s wearing a neat suit with cracked glasses giving an intellectual impression. Seeing us, he quickly bowed.

“Hello! I’m Sa Gi-hyeok! I was wondering if there are any empty homes I could move into?”

“Move in…?”

People muttered blankly.

I focused on his name. Sa Gi-hyeok? A con man? This light thought unconsciously slipped out.

“Are you a con man?”

“Haha. How amusing. Haven’t been teased about my name since school.”

…What? Was he indirectly insulting me for being childish? But everyone around me lived up to their names – I was benevolent, Do-hyung stole electricity, Park Yang-gun was a thief.

While I had these thoughts, people raised weapons. This wasn’t a time to welcome strangers.

Harsh voices followed.

“Are you from the apartments? Where’d you come from?”

“Ah yes, I lived in an apartment. A 3 billion won one, but what does that matter these days? Dividing by residence seems a bit…”

Smooth talk. At least he didn’t seem to be from our enemy apartments. But suspicion remained.

The man pointed his steel pipe at the corpse hanging from the street tree. The corpse swaying, showing its back to us.

“Hey. Go see what’s written there.”

Gi-hyeok walked confidently over, adjusting his cracked glasses as he checked the sign.

“Ppeurakchi? Ah, prakchi. Such a rich pronunciation!”

What kind of person is this really? Why does it feel like he’s mocking everything?

Gi-hyeok returned to the man, smiling boldly. Like wearing confidence as clothing.

“I’m not the type for such things. I used to run a small business, but everything collapsed when the I-virus hit, so I’m looking for somewhere to live. Would it be alright if I moved here?”

I took a sharp breath.

I couldn’t judge what kind of person he was. If the pastor was thoroughly mysterious, this person just seemed a bit strange. An subtle feeling that was hard to pin down.

The man raised his hand to his head like it hurt, then quickly lowered it. Seeming careful about virus infection.

Frowning in thought, he took out one of the collected keys.

“We are short on people…”

Combat-capable people and the elderly/weak were about equal in number. Seemed he’d accept him to fill those numbers.

The man pointed menacingly at the spy’s corpse as he continued:

“Try anything funny and you die. I’ll hunt you down and kill you personally. Take the key if you’re confident.”

“Ah, of course. Just give me work and I’ll do it diligently. Right then, shall I move these?”

Gi-hyeok smiled taking the key, then quickly lifted some boxes. And under our watch, he worked purely and diligently.

He didn’t secretly steal food, didn’t take out his phone, and greeted people kindly while bowing his head.

Even as we subtly ostracized and excluded him, he smiled and tried to blend in. Like a friendly neighbor.