Communication Resumption (5)

The contract terms between the rest stop and the Shelter had already been ironed out in advance. What Kim Sil-jang wanted boiled down to two things. First, a reliable source for critical supplies. At this point, most tech items—including antibiotics and electronics—weren't being produced anywhere on a meaningful scale. Jeju Island was the only place with even small-scale industrial activity that mattered. Places like Yeosu had the infrastructure, but no skilled workers, power sources, or parts to run it, leaving them effectively shut down. With things like that, civilians had no choice but to risk venturing outside for supplies. Even a rest stop smack in the middle of a trade route couldn't guarantee steady stock. Some items sold out for weeks, and even decent deals fell through if the delivery guy ghosted or died en route. The Shelter, on the other hand, could provide high-quality goods of any type, steadily and without fail.

The second was a solid backup for do-or-die moments—a sponsor with enough firepower to mediate if some real threat came knocking. And ones who weren't oppressive, but dealt fairly like gentlemen? That was like having divine backing.

What we needed was also two things. First, a communications relay point. Second, intel from locals that drone recon alone couldn't catch. Our drones could make out the number on a coin hundreds of meters away, but they couldn't see through concrete. Refugee camps, military bases, other settlements with some pull. Conversations between scout teams hunkered down in tunnels, subways, or abandoned buildings as night fell. That kind of street-level info only came through human eyes and ears.

Plus, the rest stop had a special intel source: the girls.

"Oppa, I swear, there was nothing I could do! Manager suddenly canceled everything and told me to stand by!"

A coquettish voice echoed from the central stairs on the rest stop's first floor. Moments later, a couple emerged from below, arms linked. The woman wore that old New Town "missy" style from before the fall—tight and trendy. The guy was in military fatigues. Probably the deserter Kim Sil-jang had mentioned.

"..."

The man's face tensed when he spotted me. I gave my best "I don't give a shit about you" shrug and stepped aside.

"Oppa, why aren't you going?"

"Uh, uh..."

She tugged his arm, and only then did he shuffle past me. Once they were gone, I glanced down at my outfit—nothing suspicious. Nano suit under a duster coat made me look like your standard well-built scout.

"No way."

Info from working girls was gold, especially in war zones or a world like this where every day was hell. Men staring death in the face got chatty. Like a mix of babying their moms and last confessions before dying. Throw in pent-up lust from the constant mortal peril, and spots like this were intel motherlodes.

Wonder what that deserter spilled to his girl.

"I'll guide you."

Kim Sil-jang returned from the bathroom and led us downstairs. The basement matched the first floor in size but wasn't for selling goods.

"This is what makes our rest stop special: the All-Things Repair Shop!"

Here, they sold skills. A guy soldering frayed wires in a radio. Another patching a punctured bike tire. Someone swapping a broken crossbow string. Techs of all stripes worked everywhere.

"Posting job ads non-stop paid off, huh? Got a decent crew."

"Interviews were my main gig until recently. Now it's info trading."

What really caught my eye next was the red-light district taking up most of the left side.

"Mixing body odor and machine oil for business looks weird, right?"

"Night work's a skill too."

He grinned and pointed up. "We keep tight control, but upstairs sees the occasional brawl."

I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠nodded. I'd heard live gunfire on his broadcast not long ago.

"Losing a hard-won doc to a stray bullet would suck. Electricians aren't much easier to find these days. So after some thought, we moved techs underground. Auto mechanics are the exception—they need space. Turns out, there's an upside."

Kim Sil-jang pointed to one side. A door in the red-light row opened, and a guy in a faded doctor's coat stepped out.

"Oppa, wait!"

A pale hand grabbed his shoulder. The girl straightened his rumpled clothes and tousled hair.

Kim Sil-jang shrugged at me. "Employee discount perks? They're hooked. Loyalty shoots through the roof. No poaching worries—plenty of settlements hunt docs. Nowhere beats us, though."

"No water trading? Seems like a must here."

He waved it off firmly. "Night market handles that—we compete 'em out. We just distribute."

"Direct sales mean fatter margins, no?"

"Sure, but hogging all the profits? Who'd bother trading here? Gotta leave some pie for others."

He gestured at the busy techs. "Plus, booze inside means drunks on the job someday. Guaranteed. That'd trash our rep."

"Damn..."

I had to admire it. Building this scale from gangsters in a dead world, then partnering with us? Sharp as hell—sharper than I'd thought.

"Heard you halted the girls' business when I showed up."

"Oh, that. Cleared it already. That's why the deserter and doc had a good time."

"Why bother? I don't care. In this world, gotta do what it takes to eat."

He eyed me cautiously. "Well, I prepped girls for you, remember? You passed, but hypothetically..."

I nodded.

"Figured seeing them work mid-tour might sour you. Like spotting the cook in the john—leaves a bad taste, heh."

I stopped. This guy was the real deal. A genuine businessman.

The next morning, Kim Sil-jang and I stood on the roof in the sunlight, eyeing the antenna.

"Links to our low-Earth orbit sats. Notebook in the second-floor comms room hooks into the Extranet. Weather, sat maps, approved drone feeds. Limitations, but the intel's vast."

We offset the relay install and maintenance with site fees. The cold-eyed slick-back from vehicle handoff scribbled notes beside the nodding manager.

"No need to tweak it. Manual's in the laptop."

"Yes, Chairman."

"Hey, idiot—it's Manager, not Chairman."

"Sorry."

Stone-faced ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠apology.

"Always bugged me—pre-war sugar daddy? 'Chairman' sticks to your tongue."

Here, "sponsor" meant the gray-zone guys funding legit fronts for gang dirty work.

"Spot on."

He scratched his head. "Chairman Ham, ran Util Construction—a solid mid-tier firm."

"...!"

I knew him. Minor player in Shelter construction. Persistent old fart shaking my hand at every meeting, stamping his face after landing the big gig amid corporate woes.

"Gone now. Wouldn't abandon his life's work—too late evacuating..."

His company's turf fell early in the infection war, now one of Korea's biggest hordes.

Treated him right in life? Dead or not, Kim Sil-jang spoke of him respectfully.

"Anyway, relay's yours. Sturdy, but don't neglect it."

"Leave it to us. Two sparkies on staff—we'll baby it daily."

He thumped his chest. We were Korea's only LEO sat operators, with the most recon drones. For an info broker like him, cross-verifiable data meant quality edge over rivals.

"Not exclusive."

"We know. But we'll bust ass to be your first call."

"Not now, but later: talent scouting or gene samples."

Shelter had people, but lacked diversity in age, gender, backgrounds. Rest stop saw every type—perfect for lab samples.

"Price as agreed, renew yearly."

"Got it."

I stuck out my right hand. "Here's to a good run."

"My pleasure."

Two-handed grip, 90-degree bow.

Heading to our parked ride after nailing objective one, I spotted kids huddled in the shade. Boy in an oversized hi-vis vest too big for him, girl shifting a bucket, new faces—all rest stop workers. They squatted in a circle, tearing into wrappers. My chocolates.

Honestly, surprised. In plenty times, adults yield to kids. Real scarcity? Everyone craves chocolate or candy. But those girls sniffed it and handed it straight over.

We got a hero's send-off leaving the rest stop. APC tore across barren flats into ruined cityscape—Kim Sil-jang's last tip-off.

"Ghost Town."

He tapped the spot on his e-ink map. Southeast of the stop, nuked by North Korea mid-infection war.

"Ghost Town? Radiation still hot?"

"Yep. Keeps people and most infected away. Walkers were around, but gone months now."

We'd synced terms like "infected" classifications for efficiency.

"Scouts say the few that popped up were blood-soaked head to toe. Radiation shredded 'em inside out. Watch for radiation-hard mutants or bug-types, though—not zero."

The town was charred black. Tik!...tikitiki..tik!

New Geiger counter crackled.

Artemis analyzed the radiation levels. [It's a level where Stalker robots, and even you, can wander around without issue as long as your visor is sealed. Prolonged exposure with a bare body would reach severe levels, though.

"There's nothing to salvage here anyway. I won't be getting out of the vehicle."

The radiation shielding of the APC we were in could withstand being near a power plant that had experienced a meltdown.

We slowly passed through the scorched interior of the city.

Most of the telephone poles were snapped and fallen, and there were more fallen store signboards than ones still attached.

Passing near the epicenter, it was desolation itself. The counter sputtered electronic noises wildly, like a drunk electric guitarist. Most of the buildings had been blown away, leaving only hideous rebar pillars. It looked as if gaunt fish bones had been stuck in the ground.

A little further along, buildings with somewhat more substance appeared, but instead, things more hideous than rebar revealed themselves.

Black stains burned into the building walls in the shape of humans. They were scattered everywhere.

Was it because they were all evacuating after seeing the nuke falling?

There were only a few near the epicenter, but the marks increased endlessly toward the outskirts. As we moved further out, a new sight greeted us.

"..."

They were dark gray statues lying on the ground. Corpses that had burned up in an instant from the immense radiant heat, their masses then hardening like fossils.

There were those who met their end standing up, but such corpses had crumbled over time, leaving no recognizable shape. A fossil standing on two legs with nothing remaining above the navel was the most intact one among them.

"Artemis."

"Thanks for the consideration, but there's no need to go out ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of the way to avoid them. Just pass right through."

Now that we had successfully won over the Rest Stop, the next destination was Yeosu.

I intended to meet Lieutenant Colonel Lee Seong-bong there and form some sort of agreement.

Burning down all the Noise Trees in the south would be the most desirable, but realistically, that was too wasteful. So Artemis and I chose Plan B.

We would intensively burn specific areas, and then use those clearings to exchange signals by setting up relay transmitters on the ground and deploying relay blimp drones in the air. Considering communication with Jeju Island, Japan, and furthermore the United States, we selected Yeosu as the optimal location.

Goheung was also decent geographically, but we excluded it from consideration from the start. This was because a man like Lee Man-cheol—who murdered his direct superior, staged a coup, and even forcefully mobilized the populace—was completely untrustworthy.

A group of Walkers loitering 60 meters ahead on the road appeared on the internal screen. They were all covered in blood from head to toe, and their movements entirely lacked energy, but they sure had the numbers.

"Don't shoot them, just ram them. Let's do a functional test while we're at it."

Along with Artemis's reply, a structural change occurred in the APC. The front bumper lowered closer to the ground, and a cover unfolded underneath to protect the drivetrain. At the same time, the engine's running sound changed slightly; it had entered what you could call 'bulldozer mode'.

40m.

30m.

20m.

They ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠were approaching rapidly.

"Gii...ee...eek-"

Seeing blood flowing from their eyes, it seemed about half of them had even lost their eyesight. But relying on their hearing, they reached out and flailed toward us.

And then 10m.

The moment the majority of them turned toward us.

Koong!

A human domino effect began to unfold.

Thump!

Crash!

Bam!

Satisfying smashes and the sound of breaking bones echoed from all around as the Walkers were knocked away.

Watching it through the vehicle's cameras wasn't very entertaining, but the footage sent by the reconnaissance drone hovering in the air was highly thrilling.

Was it because the APC's charge was so destructive? Or was it because their bodies had been shredded by radiation?

Rather than simply bouncing off, they flew in all directions, snapping and shattering in one or two places.

After grinding through nearly 30 Walkers, the vehicle was drenched in blood all over.

Along with Artemis's clear voice, water was sprayed over the exterior of the vehicle. Ultrasonic waves swept over it.

In an instant, the rotten blood and tiny chunks of flesh washed away, and the little that remained was handled by small cleaning drones.

Like that, we exited out the other side of the city.

"If we keep going straight like this, we'll enter the territory of the Yeosu garrison, right?"

Up until now, everything had been smooth sailing.

"I hope this guy Lee Man-cheol doesn't try anything stupid and just waits for spring a bit more patiently."

But that's exactly when things in this world tend to go wrong.

Usually, a 'sixth sense' is epitomized by a detective's intuition, but the real deal is a soldier's instinct.

An unknown, ominous premonition. I couldn't shake it off.