Chapter 225
Chapter 225
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 225
Chapter Title: 96. The Carried Ones (1)
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For someone preparing for the apocalypse, the more cards you hold in your hand, the better.
That's obvious.
The more options you have for dealing with any situation, the more flexibly you can respond.
The problem lies in reality.
Increasing your cards requires spending money based on pre-war standards.
Doomsday preppers vary in their economic situations and resources, and we've already seen the gaps that create with our own eyes.
Now, one future has been foretold.
I'm convinced Kim Byung-chul's Seoul won't hold out for long.
At best, half a year.
It won't last past this year.
Let's list the anticipated problems.
Hostile hunters led by Kim Daram, soldiers, zealots, and refugees—read: looters.
The optimal way to protect my assets from this flood of bastards soon to come is to hide my bunker. But for various reasons, I've connected with people who have power and revealed my bunker's location.
There are pros and cons.
The advantage is the steady supply of resources that hasn't dwindled even three years into the war.
Honestly, I never imagined pre-war that I could maintain such abundance up to now.
The downside is secrecy.
An exposed bunker is no different from a golden goblin jackpot spot.
The moment a superior human group targets it, not only my life but my assets could vanish down the throats of those innocent bastards—with a very high probability.
To address this chronic issue, I've racked my brains in countless ways up to now.
I've built decoy bunkers, considered fleeing, even thought about moving.
Each time, I concluded that my bunker and I were inseparably bound by fate, like soulmates destined from birth. But now, it's time to seriously change course.
I need a third location somewhere else.
But I can't abandon my main bunker.
I've read in books that when people face crises, reviewing from the starting point isn't a bad option.
The origin of my doomsday prep is, of course, Viva! Apocalypse!
Though I'm now obsessed with named monsters and such, I know better than anyone that I, Park Gyu, was once the model student with wide-eyed enthusiasm for it.
Looking back at posts from over three years ago—pre-war—I pondered my future direction.
The scenario about to unfold—Seoul's total collapse and the uprising of hostile humans—is actually one I've anticipated for quite some time.
The timing got delayed due to circumstances, and hostile humans leveled up insanely—probably the gap from level 1 to max—but the big picture hasn't changed much from what was discussed three years ago.
In such a situation, if hiding or defending the main bunker proves difficult, some users suggested building a third bunker at a spot where you can observe the existing one, ready to reclaim the main bunker whenever the situation allows.
This has its pros and cons too, but for me, who can't give up the main bunker under any circumstances, it's an unavoidable second-best option.
A third bunker is not optional—it's essential.
*
I suddenly recalled when I first built the bunker.
The top priority in choosing its location was, of course, the site itself.
Beyond ease of defense or resource access, I evaluated countless factors: impending political and social changes, strategic importance, visibility, expansion potential, and more—not decided by any single element.
I can proudly say I assessed it more meticulously than even our Dangunwanggeom sword.
That decision proved right; the past three years confirmed this spot is prime real estate.
Even if I scoured everywhere else, I doubt I'd find better.
But I need to vacate this bunker for a while.
I'm thinking about a year.
That's plenty long if it's long, but considering post-war level-ups, it might not be that extended.
The question is where to establish the third bunker.
Past Viva! Apocalypse! threads say the third bunker should be somewhere you can always observe the main one and seize it anytime.
But those conditions aren't easy.
Around my bunker, the only high ground is my own area.
You can observe nearby regions from my bunker, but the reverse is tough.
Drones or surveillance gear might work, but drones are a double-edged sword.
If I use one, my enemies spot it too.
Constant monitoring is impossible.
"......"
I need a change in thinking.
My constant source of inspiration has always been my role model, John_nenon.
I searched his old posts for the first time in a while.
He referenced foreign users a lot, but toward the end, he posted plenty about Korean situations based on his own legwork.
Before getting banned from the boards, his main interest was rural hospital buildings.
Mostly standalone in remote spots, reinforced concrete for sturdiness, hard to approach from outside and escape from inside—simple yet highly secretive structure. Plus, fully equipped with essentials like ventilation, AC, and plumbing. John_nenon seemed drawn to that.
In fact, late on, he shared multiple field reports exploring abandoned hospitals.
His claim: Instead of building a large bunker with mediocre funds, repurpose an abandoned hospital for a solid hideout.
However, as he noted, this suits groups more than solo survivalists.
Hospitals, no matter how remote, are visible from afar, and that cross symbol draws the sick and suffering like zombies to the hungry.
Near my territory, there are several such places.
Not your typical urban ortho, plastic surgery, or skin clinics—but "nursing hospitals" or "hospices," final resting spots for the elderly on death's door.
Among these many hospitals, some have been cleared by pioneers.
I've decided to pick a third bunker candidate from them.
My shortlist: three spots.
Two border roads by rice fields; the last clings to a mountainside far from my area.
Vroooom—
I hopped on the motorcycle for reconnaissance right away.
No people around felt like confirmation this was my last chance.
Radio blabbed about Kim Byung-chul and his legion valiantly holding off monsters, but from my experience, there were just fewer of them.
No sign of the large ones I feared.
Literally by sheer luck, some monsters detoured the Han River, and that alone had Kim Byung-chul—the show-lover—putting on a crisis act for all Seoul.
If a "proper" monster assault hits Seoul, that'll spell the end for this little world.
The first and second hospitals fell short of expectations.
Frames and structures intact as hospitals, but insides rotted from shoddy construction or war damage, equipment thoroughly wrecked—unusable.
The second was so clogged with waste you couldn't even enter.
Looks like toxic waste dumpers offloaded industrial garbage pre-war.
The third candidate? Not thrilled to go there.
Midway up a rugged mountain ringed by golf courses.
As a mountaintop hospital, it's hidden from below unless winter, but valley-bound, so poor surrounding oversight. The elevation brings supply and access woes.
In short: Fine if self-sufficient, but without it, like a desert in the mountains—everything scarce.
Anyone who's hunkered in mountains knows: Greenery doesn't guarantee abundance.
High risk of lacking basics: water, food, sunlight.
So, unless you're a mountain survival master, settling there demands caution.
With reluctance, I headed to the final site.
True to its hospital past, the road was well-paved.
Asphalt even. Midway up, tattered banners proclaimed "Excellent Hospital [whatever] Award."
Road pristine, no vehicle tracks.
Not even common scavengers bothered.
Makes sense; few would waste fuel on such a remote nursing home.
Still, unlike the others, this third one screamed "luxury nursing hospital."
Decorative roads, signs, guides—clear signs.
Probably where the well-off dumped their parents.
End result much the same, though.
As I neared, an inexplicable unease hit me.
Lived-in feel.
Signs of human habitation.
Three and a half years post-war, in a nursing home for the dying elderly—people living there is bizarre. Yet the air hummed with life: faint chicken clucks, music-like echoes, rhythmic noises—ample evidence.
Click—
I dismounted, grabbed my gun.
Cool wind swept down from the peak as I armed up.
Swept back my tousled hair, advanced slowly up the slope.
The site's name came into view.
True luxury: sign material and design top-notch.
Graves scattered beside it.
Most unmarked, but some crudely etched Hanja hinted at family lineage.
Some graves looked recent.
My hunch was right.
People live here.
That thought sparked fierce curiosity.
People abandoned at life's dead end—a nursing home—surviving three more years in this hell even healthy folks struggle with. A miracle of life.
But wonder and danger are distinct.
As trained, I concealed my presence and approached.
People there.
Elderly.
On terraced mountain fields, elders worked in unison, steadily.
From afar, definitely seniors.
But pre-war age? I'd say no—not that old.
Mid-60s tops.
Still able-bodied for labor.
"......"
I pondered briefly.
Reveal myself or ghost?
Third parties confirmed here—no value to me.
What could I gain from contact anyway?
Decided: Backtrack without engaging.
But the world's levels have risen—that's fact.
"Who's there?"
One elder pointed my way.
Click! Click!
Gunshots? No—racks.
Hostile elders emerged from the side, armed.
"Drop the weapon and step forward. We know you're alone."
The lead elder glared fiercely, growling at me.
Seeing his gaunt face, I sensed one secret of this place.
That elder.
Half zombie.
The neither fully alive nor dead leading the dying, encircling the living.