Cheering for a New Start - 6
Six hours had passed. The rumbling of wooden wheels—now somewhat familiar—pierced my ears. I trudged down the road, pulling a small truck-sized cart like some traveler dragging a suitcase.
"Master. I'm really confident—can't I just ride it once?"
"It's dangerous riding with the luggage."
"Dangerous my ass! I'm telling you, I'm confident. I won't get hurt!"
Truth be told, I couldn't imagine a woman like Seohee falling off a cart this size and getting injured. I'd heard later that she'd taken down a Goliath of all things. Considering her usual childish antics, it was the kind of feat that stretched the imagination.
"Still no."
Honestly, I was worried she'd goof around, throw off the cart's balance, and break something inside. Sure, Seohee wouldn't snap from a normal bump—and even if she did, one healing session from Roa back at the apartment would fix her right up—but these supplies? Not so much.
"Then let me pull it, and you ride."
"I've gotta move this stuff."
"Ugh..."
Seohee pouted, her lips jutting out like a sulky kid.
"I'll give you a proper ride later. Just wait."
"...Like what?"
"Dunno. But my strength's more than enough anyway. If it snows, I could whip up a sled no one else could ride but you. That'd be fun, right?"
There was a lake in this park. It'd been shut down for safety reasons lately, but back when I was a kid, we'd all come out here to sled.
"Sounds fun..." Seohee's eyes sparkled with awe.
"Anyway, let's hustle back and eat. The girls are probably waiting."
With construction dragging on, I'd run into a problem I'd never dealt with before.
The food tastes like shit.
Of course, by this world's standards, we weren't short on grub. Even adding ten more mouths with the new Supply Points, feeding everyone was a breeze.
But nutrition-wise? Dicey.
Even if it's lunch, putting them to work on just snacks feels off...
Triangle kimbap and cup ramen were finite. I couldn't stomach feeding the women working for me instant noodles every damn day.
Deeper down, I just hated it. Sua had picked up cooking in a flash, and back home, I'd enjoyed fresh meat and veggies for lunch every time. But now that she was pitching in on jobs, making her get up early for proper breakfast and cook dinner the second we got back? Felt shitty. And patching lunch with snacks or bread? No way. Fine for a day or two, but a whole week? Made my skin crawl.
"So, we eating what we brought right away?"
"Snacks and bread today. We'll try it starting tomorrow."
I arrived at the Base, swung open the door, and stepped inside.
"No matter how you slice it... it's way too small."
"Can't be helped, right? Took forever just to make the ropes."
The space ringed by log fencing wasn't all that big. At best, two elementary school playgrounds.
"But it's sturdy enough, yeah? The fence is taller than a person—this is plenty safe."
Regular zombies weren't much faster or stronger than humans. No way they'd bust through these massive logs.
The warehouse build we'd started alongside the fencing was done now too. Not perfect, but good enough for storage.
"Alright, let's unload!"
The cart I'd pulled was another workbench product. The process wasn't smooth—it jostled like hell, supplies bouncing inside every bump.
But as someone who'd handcrafted real "wooden carts" in the old world, I was grateful. No rubber tires for cushioning, sure, but actual wooden wheels would've shattered a dozen times on these roads otherwise.
Seohee and I neatly stacked the haul from other Supply Points in the warehouse: gas burners and butane canisters. The camper's best friend.
"See? I told you I saw this before! Nailed it, huh?"
"Yeah, good job."
I knew our front-door Supply Point inside out, but new ones? Not many folks checked what was inside. They'd skim the food aisle and bail, ignoring corner junk like power strips or accessories.
Seohee, though? She'd clocked the burners and gas.
Butane was a splurge, but for hot soup? Worth every canister.
"Seohee-ssi!"
A woman burst out from HQ.
"Sua-ssi needs you now. Better hurry!"
"Ah, what the..." I chuckled and patted her back. "No clue what she screwed up this time, but go. I'll finish unloading, lock up."
"Ugh... gotta be some bullshit again. Bet on it."
Seohee stuck out her lip but headed off obediently.
"Alright... time to wrap this up."
The wooden-floored warehouse held stacked boxes of snacks, cereal, bread, instant cup rice.
"Filling up nice."
With the cart, I'd been looping around, hauling food from nearby Supply Points. We had a solid stockpile now. Just looking at it brought a grin.
"Guess it's time for my meal too..."
I headed to the slightly ajar door to shut it.
And our eyes met.
A stranger was peeking out, staring right at me.
/////
It had been a long haul. The mercenaries roamed Anseongu for days—their bellies practically kissing their spines.
But they'd gotten their reward.
"What'd I tell ya? Works like a charm!"
The women, starved for days, couldn't help but laugh at the spread of Supply Points. They'd worried their asses off, but no zombies. If anything, fewer than elsewhere.
Their ruling urge wasn't even hunger first—it was thirst. In this wasteland, drinking beat eating proper.
One merc ripped open a 1L milk carton, chugging straight from the pack, no cup.
Another jammed a straw into OJ packs repeatedly before yelling, "Fucking paper straws!" She sliced the top with her pocket knife, arm hoisted high, slurping like a face wash.
Thirst slaked, next urge: hunger. They tore into snacks. Gnawed cold sausages, crunchy texture and all. Vulgar as mercenaries come.
Hmm... Kim Soi took a massive bite of ice cream. The brain freeze sharpened her wits.
It worked fine... but something's off.
Supplies were picked clean—not frantic survivor grabs, but organized, planned sweeps by some group.
No zombies either...
Kim Soi stepped out of the mart, eyed the sky. No zombie vibes.
Eh, no trouble's good trouble.
Heading back in, she spotted the anomaly.
"Huh?"
A tower loomed tall.
"Quit stuffing your faces and get out here! Hey, kids—was that there before?"
Members trudged out, mouths smeared with food, faces pissed.
"That..."
"Wasn't there, right?"
Soi bit her lip hard.
"How the fuck didn't we notice?"
It was huge—visible from afar. But they'd had no slack to scan the sky, slinking in without spotting the damn thing.
"...An organization."
"Huh?"
"Grab your chow and move! We'll eat somewhere safe!"
Soi's heart thumped wild.
...The hell?
Never dreamed some org had planted roots here. But shit had changed.
Quick meal done, she rallied the crew.
"Let's scout. Figure out what org's here."
"...Ain't that risky?"
"Gorging like pigs here's the real risk—and nasty. Just do it!"
Soi crept toward the tower, eyes peeled.
And found jack shit.
"...Looks aside, nothing here?"
"Yeah...?"
Far off, beyond the tower: suspicious fresh log fencing.
She circled it at a safe distance, dead certain.
"Tiny?"
Her mind raced.
Something shifted—Anseongu's safer now. That puny org slipped in on the gap...
Just like her crew risking the district's rep to enter. They had no choice either.
Nothing special about 'em. Just first in, snagged the empty slot for a base.
Soi mulled it over.
"Kids. Merc life? Got limits."
"...Didn't you say you hate scraping dirt to survive?"
"Exactly! Other orgs got mercs on contract—protecting in exchange!"
Top merc bands locked in near-slave deals, guarding orgs for protection fees.
"...We ain't top-tier."
"Strength's relative. Look—base is a joke, fence covers squat. All their people? Probably less than us."
But potential? Huge. Word of safe Anseongu spreads, crowds flock—they turn numbers to power.
"We can take 'em now. Sweet-talk 'em into letting us settle too?"
Apocalypse world. Strong prey on weak—daily shit.
Right now, her band could collar this "high-potential" org. Ride their growth, share the spoils.
"Threaten? What if they say no?"
"Why ask? Show 'em who we are."
"We're rough, sure, but we ain't killed first except deadbeats and contract breakers..."
Soi scowled at the lingering humanity.
"Talk only! See—we roll up guns blazing, 'Protection contract—sign here.' They'll shit bricks, hand over the keys."
Her eyes brimmed with confidence.
"I'll go first. Cover me good."
A spark of hope: quitting this merc grind.