Resuming Communications (1)
Winter was finally drawing to a close. Maybe because all civilization had ground to a halt, this one had been brutally cold. There were occasional thaws warm enough for a beach day, but overall, it felt like the world was locked in a deep freeze. In a normal world, the news would have been flooded with headlines about record-breaking cold snaps and once-in-a-century chills. But in a world destroyed by the infected, the cold meant abundance. With the infected slowed to a crawl, we could secure more safe zones and delve deeper for supplies without much hassle. Paradoxically, warmth spelled scarcity.
"Kieeeek—!"
A walker's screech echoed through a commercial building somewhere in Honam. Tatang! The M60 mounted on the military truck spat fire, mowing down a cluster, but it was hopeless—overmatched. Screams several times that number were closing in from nearby.
"Operation failed! We're pulling back!"
The officer in the passenger seat barked into the radio.
"Wait! Don't leave us!"
A soldier inside the building, arms loaded with loot, dropped everything and bolted. His face was pure desperation as he flailed his arms in a full sprint. The officer's neck veins bulged watching him.
"Hey! Why the hell are you dropping the gear? Pick that shit up and bring it! Come back empty-handed, and I swear I'll leave your ass. For real."
The soldier skidded into a 180, scooped up the load, and the walker howls grew louder by the second.
"I'm in!"
He dove into the truck bed just as it peeled out. Thud! Bang! It plowed through a few blockers and escaped by the skin of its teeth as the swarm surged in. This was happening across the board for southern expedition teams pushing north at full steam. The advance had hit its limit.
Jeonju—the place Eugene's crew had risked everything to infiltrate for contact with me—was now trampled by dozens of teams. That was the ceiling for survivors. Beyond it got really dangerous; after a few parties got wiped, everyone backed off. Now the real problems began. How to carve up the zones still somewhat under human control. Places that were just transit routes for scavenging were turning into prized turf. And trouble was inevitable.
That was Kim Sil-jang, running the rest stop, over the PA. His tone was polite but edged with unyielding steel. And for good reason.
A few days back, he'd been hawking wares like usual when gunfire erupted out of nowhere. A scuffle between customers ended quick, but the agonized groans lingered over the airwaves. Trust in rest stops as safe havens had taken a hit, hurting business. Word was, it started as an argument over limited scavenging spots. As loot dried up, eyes turned elsewhere. Tensions simmered between Yeosu and Gohung garrisons—old grudges from the infection war.
Yeosu commander Lee Seong-bong's speech, caught on long-range drone cam. He'd rallied the full force, troops arrayed and armed, morale sky-high after clearing threats and stockpiling supplies. But facing fellow humans—countrymen—no hiding the unease.
Gohung was boiling over too.
They'd switched to casual speech officially—lords over the people now, not servants. Strongest solo faction, flush with people and food, no one dared challenge their rebel vibes. Other garrisons grumbled but stayed quiet.
Some steered clear to avoid getting crushed in the whale fight.
"Everyone's gone nuts. Government's toast, and now they're shooting each other? For what? We're all masterless dogs now."
Deserters in uniforms mixed among them—male convicts drafted during the infection war.
"If you're gonna fight, get on with it. We ain't stopping you."
They prepped to turn bandit, far from garrisons, waiting for the armies to bleed each other dry in the chaos.
Others pursued a different path.
"He's after farmland," Artemis said.
"Farmland?"
A satellite photo of the Honam region popped up on the Central Control Room screen. I could exchange data via neural implant, but I preferred briefings like this—talking out loud, big visuals. It kept me feeling human. Analog love runs deep.
Expedition paths north of the Noise Trees marked with arrows—countless big and small, snaking up through Honam and Yeongnam. Some zeroed in on central-western Honam, what we'd called the Honam Plains, the old breadbasket.
"No wonder they're gearing up for a real fight despite the odds."
"Pushing further means facing infected hordes head-on. Impossible with current ROK forces. With northbound limits hit, grab the weakest infected zones. That's a must-have."
Southern half of the peninsula, no big cities, so fewer infected. Ocean to the west, Geumgang River and others for water and defense against southern hordes. Control it right, and food woes flip overnight.
"Yeah, for long-term civilian survival right now, it's essential."
I rubbed my chin.
"Should we intervene?"
Artemis gauged my mood. She knew my soft spot for selfless soldiers in hard times like these. But I shook my head.
"Nah, later."
I respected his vision for the future, but we had our own priorities first.
This was above the VIP Residential Zone: the flight unit hangar. Separate from the shelter's lower, middle, and upper levels—a fourth domain. Drones, carriers, multipurpose helos, bombers, attackers, prototypes—all developed, produced, maintained here. The true power of our city.
"Step back, please."
I did, and a modded forklift rumbled past. In dim light, they shuttled aviation bombs. Imposing flight units idled with bays open.
"Took a while."
The Noise Tree line blocking southern Korea's tip was nearly ready to burn. Communications severed would soon reconnect.
"Always keep reserves stocked."
Far targets, massive burnables. Like emergency cash in the bank—fuel ready anytime. Rotating near-expired stockpiles into explosives, building synthetic oil from hydroponics via FIFO.
"Almost done, old timer."
Hudson in the US. Still kicking? 'Don't carry too much debt in your heart, son. Talented folks are needed everywhere. You don't have to frontline with a gun like the rest. Be where you shine most.' Miss that guy after just a few chats.
"Old timer? The lone survivor out west?"
"Yeah. Lost contact mid-convo—thought he was gone, but Noise Trees confirmed. Burn 'em all, he might be first to ping."
"Right."
Artemis skipped the "world's gone mad, who knows" bit. A drone bomber sealed its bomb bay after loading. Whirr. Elevator hangar shifted it out, empty one down. Forklifts buzzed again.
My army was strong enough now. No threat could breach the city gates—not hordes, not greedy troops turned raiders. So we descended. With fire and thunder, to tear down the radio barrier that split the country and restore comms.
Survivors thirsting for knowledge, intel, stories. My lonely friend across the sea. Factions flying every flag. Those with resources, tech, info we want. Things to gain, aid, share. We went to smash the wall blocking it all.