Chapter 5: Prologue

“…”

“…”

Tense silence settled. The electricity thief’s eyes trembled wildly as he watched me, while I calmly met his gaze.

Whether killing two people or three made no difference. Maybe my brakes had broken that day I accidentally killed someone. Or more accurately, worn away.

Hesitation flickered across the electricity thief’s face as he looked between me, the hatchet, and the camper van. Fear, anger, resolve. I watched these changing expressions without blinking.

So when resolve settled on his face, when he started to step back and turn, I spoke first.

“Trying to run? Can’t let you. I’ll put this hatchet in your back.”

I mimed the motion. Removing the leather sheath and swinging the hatchet.

If an enemy turns their back, there’s plenty of time to attack. Plus I had the hammer.

Under the dark sky, streetlight cast pale light on the electricity thief’s face. He trembled, bending down to carefully place his new-looking phone on the concrete.

“Good. Now kick it toward me.”

The electricity thief gritted his teeth and kicked the phone. It slid roughly, disappearing under the camper van. After briefly watching this, I frowned.

“Playing games.”

He’d attack when I bent down to get the phone.

“No, that’s not it!”

The electricity thief shook his head quickly but I wasn’t fooled.

Day 5 of the zombie outbreak – this person had as much survival experience as me. Couldn’t underestimate him.

He was already a criminal stealing electricity from public places. Clearly his moral compass was as broken as mine.

‘To handle this without getting hurt…’

After brief thought, I chose an appropriate action.

“Get in. Get in and take out all the camping gear.”

I stepped away from the door, pointing inside with the hatchet. Furthermore, I pushed the hatchet partway in. In case he tried closing the door after entering.

The electricity thief approached slowly. Constantly glancing between me and the hatchet. Hostility briefly showed on his face.

I gripped the hammer in my hoodie pocket. If he charged, I’d swing the hammer instead.

‘Ah. A hammer might not work well in close quarters.’

Fortunately the electricity thief didn’t charge. After entering the van he spoke.

“What should I bring out first?”

“The pot.”

I nodded. The electricity thief lifted a large pot with some brand name. Something rattled inside – maybe a nested set of pots.

Then, biting his lip, the electricity thief suddenly threw it.

“Get lost!”

The pot flew at me. Having anticipated this, I quickly raised my arms to block. It didn’t even hurt since it was light, but I screamed “Aaaagh!” and collapsed as if in terrible pain.

Of course, keeping the hatchet braced against the van.

“Some worthless homeless person!”

Rattle, the door started closing but caught on the hatchet handle. Something crashed around roughly inside.

I calmly twisted the hatchet. Pulling it like a lever to open the door, then forcing the rest of the door fully open.

Beyond the door, chairs and luggage were piled like a barricade.

The electricity thief was already stepping on the sink, scrambling toward the driver’s seat. Flailing limbs as he moved.

‘Not easy after all.’

Would have lost him without bracing the hatchet. As expected of someone who stole the nation’s electricity. No different from a modern bandit.

I kicked aside the chair with a bang and climbed in. Immediately removed the hatchet’s leather sheath. The snap buttons tore off with a crack.

I bent my arm, aiming the sharp hatchet blade at the electricity thief’s neck in the driver’s seat.

“Ah, aah.”

The electricity thief swallowed hard, breathing roughly. His Adam’s apple moved, touching the blade. Blood beaded along the light line left behind.

“P-please spare me. I won’t report this. Money? Do you need money? I have money.”

I smirked.

Money? Would money mean anything when the apocalypse came?

I moved the hatchet slowly. The blade’s edge traced slowly upward like a caress. From neck to cheek. Cheek to head.

The electricity thief’s eyes followed the blade. He breathed rapidly like someone hyperventilating or finishing a sprint.

“Phone unlock pattern.”

“It’s fingerprint, but if you want I can change it to pattern-“

Meaning his fingers just needed to work. No need to hear more.

I pulled the hatchet close, lightly pressing it against his head. He only watched the hatchet. Now was the chance, with his attention focused on the blade.

A chance to kill without resistance.

I gripped the hammer tightly in my other hand.

Right now, swinging the hammer from the opposite side of the hatchet would kill him cleanly. Cleanup would be simple too. Blood would flow from the crushed head, but putting a bag over it and tightening it around the neck with the charger cord would contain the spillage.

“Please, please.”

“…”

Tears welled up and flowed from the electricity thief’s eyes.

Fake tears.

I was just a murderer, jail escapee, bicycle thief, and extortionist who’d only committed crimes against ordinary people, but this electricity thief was a serious criminal stealing the nation’s power.

With that kind of nerve, he wouldn’t cry over something like this. Like his phone trick earlier, he was clearly an experienced criminal.

I slowly raised the hammer and.

After consideration, hid it again.

“Throw the car keys on the passenger floor. Unlock your phone.”

“Yes…!”

“Then get in the sleeping bag.”

He was still worth keeping alive.

***

“When does this finish charging?”

I wasn’t sure how long electric car charging took. I fidgeted uncomfortably in the driver’s seat.

Wanting to get away quickly. Using someone else’s car whose face I didn’t know meant the police wouldn’t catch me.

A voice came from behind. The electricity thief’s voice.

“We can leave now! Plenty of battery left!”

I glanced back.

A caterpillar lay in the space I’d rearranged. The electricity thief imprisoned in the sleeping bag. I’d tied several layers of camping rope over the bag. With his hands bound too, he couldn’t escape alone.

His complexion was okay at least. Judging by his craftily shining eyes, he was looking for escape opportunities.

I wrote a scenario from the electricity thief’s perspective. Criminal, kidnapping, escape.

‘Planning to shout in crowded places? Or ask passing people for help when I step away?’

That would be drowned out by music played at max volume.

I spoke briefly.

“How do I play music in this car?”

“That’s…”

When I raised the hatchet, he quickly explained. I nodded, then went out to retrieve the charging cord. Even if the apocalypse came and power failed, strong cords would still have value.

Then I sat in the driver’s seat and gripped the wheel, but stopped.

There was a problem. A big problem.

With an awkward expression, I hesitated before asking.

“Um. Which one was the accelerator again?”

I had a license but had never driven. Couldn’t remember anything.

The electricity thief’s eyes went wide.

“N-no! Don’t drive! Let me-“

“Right. I’ll figure it out by pressing them.”

“Aaagh! Don’t! Do you know how much this camper van cost? No! Don’t!”

Such dramatics. I grinned and turned the music up as loud as possible. Road trip songs pounded through the speakers, drowning out all noise.

Good. I pressed some pedal.

The public restroom entrance grew larger. I’d charged straight into it. The speaker volume masked the collision sound. The van just shook heavily.

“That’s accelerator. That’s forward. Noted.”

I laughed loudly then hummed along with the music as I changed gears and backed up. Thought I heard screaming from behind, but no need to worry about that. And so I happily drove away from the mountain.

Day 5 of the zombie outbreak.

I’d acquired a camper van and phone, talked with another person, and returned from mountain primitive to urban civilized.

***

Day 6 of the zombie outbreak.

The world was collapsing smoothly.

***

A quiet highway on the city outskirts.

I’d parked on the shoulder and slept well. After refreshingly washing with the camper van’s kitchen water, I opened a packed meal.

A bibimbap meal kit the electricity thief had bought for camping. Almost like military rations.

‘Tastes good.’

After eating only chocolate bars and cereal in the mountains, proper food felt great. Tension released, mind relaxing with the fullness.

“Um, I’m hungry too.”

I glanced down. The electricity thief still trapped in the sleeping bag made a pitiful expression. I shook my head.

“People don’t die until three weeks without food.”

The Rule of 3s, was it? Three minutes without air, three hours without warmth, three days without water, three weeks without food. By that rule, the electricity thief didn’t need to eat.

Of course I needed to eat. I quickly scooped up more bibimbap. Speaking while chewing:

“Keep telling me what you were saying.”

How had the outside world turned while I’d huddled in the mountains?

“I’ll tell you if you give me water at least.”

The electricity thief blinked desperately. I nodded at that request. I’d heard this camper van had dozens of liters of water. A few sips would be fine.

“Talk and I’ll give you some.”

The electricity thief’s eyes sparkled as he spoke.

“Where was I? Ah, the military. They’re in chaos too. Heard there were infected at training camps, and somewhere they shot infected people dead.”

“With guns?”

I set down my spoon suddenly.

Guns. Armed military.

Maybe the apocalypse wouldn’t come? Honestly, no matter how tough zombies were, they couldn’t stop tanks or fighter jets, right?

My hands trembled. That really couldn’t happen. I’d lose too much. The apocalypse had to come.

Fortunately, the electricity thief eased my anxiety. He grumbled:

“It’s crazy. They’re called zombies but they’re patients. The military killed sick people. It’s causing huge outrage. Would they shoot people with COVID too? Killing citizens? Who will they kill after zombies?”

Perfect.

The world was helping me. A world maintaining the premise that zombies were people. Hope and optimism ran rampant.

I couldn’t hold back my smile.

“And once they develop vaccines and treatments, zombies will recover too. Infected people’s families and human rights groups are really going after the military.”

This meant the military couldn’t move freely. Rather, they’d slowly lose power as the virus infected them.

Tanks and fighter jets still needed people. Pilots, mechanics, transport and supply soldiers. With all those people becoming zombies, the future was obvious.

I smiled contentedly and kept eating.

“Many infected in the military?”

“Must be lots, right?”

The incubation period was that long. Soldiers, NCOs, officers would all be infected regardless of rank. No, not just the military.

A vision seemed to unfold before me.

All government institutions would lose function. The scene of the world crumbling before waves of zombies and virus was vivid. Like a drop of black ink contaminating a cup of water.

The electricity thief continued:

“It’s not just the military, everything’s problematic. They want to isolate infected zombies but don’t have proper facilities, and hospitals are short-staffed. They’re already overwhelmed trying to isolate and treat people attacked by zombies.”

“What about police?”

I asked casually.

“They say tasers stop zombies too, but news shows they’re short on people and overworked… Can I have water?”

The electricity thief’s voice was parched.

I slowly poured from a water bottle, and he focused only on drinking even as water ran down his face.

After a moment, I asked my final question.

“Tell me about zombies and the I-virus.”

“There’s lots of fake info about that… Droplet transmission like COVID is certain, and blood transmission? Blood is dangerous too they say. Water might be dangerous too. Water-borne? That’s the term?”

I clenched my fist. Such a dangerous virus. Such a powerful biological weapon. A disease that could break the world.

And the world was actually breaking.

Suddenly the Immortal Company chairman’s face came to mind.

‘As expected of our Chairman!’

No wonder they smiled while being dragged away. They were confident. I wasn’t wrong. The apocalypse was really coming!

At that point I looked down at the electricity thief. A dilemma occurred.

“…”

Marauders needed to form groups. Alone, you weren’t a marauder. Just a wanderer or survivor. That was prey, not predator.

The electricity thief’s face went pale under my gaze. He seemed to sense his value was used up.

“P-please don’t kill me. Please.”

Honestly, he was quite decent talent.

Moral compass as broken as mine, nerve to steal national assets, the cunning shown when opposing me. Qualified to be an apocalypse marauder.

Though not as good as my top recruitment targets – thieves who could pick locks and electronic locks, or deserters who’d fled with guns and ammo.