Osan
Pyeongtaek may have been under military control, but in practice it was a lawless zone.
Kang Dohyun had hunted outlaws to his heart's content there. The bicycle he rode made excellent bait, and hunting with his presence detection and crossbow had yielded outstanding results.
After five days spent hunting bandits rather than zombies, Dohyun set out for Osan.
The moment he entered the Osan region, he could tell the atmosphere was completely different.
Oh.
The fortifications had a hastily thrown-together look, but walls had been raised like a castle from all manner of materials and tools, and soldiers stood guard at a checkpoint by the entrance.
A long line of people waited to get inside.
"We'll be conducting a search."
Anyone entering Osan had to submit to the soldiers' inspection. Dohyun joined the queue. A soldier walked the line, calling out the rules.
"Weapons will be inspected. Luggage will be inspected."
"Anyone bitten by a zombie, or running a fever, will be denied entry."
When his turn finally came—
"Weapons first. Set them down here."
Dohyun laid the axe in his hand and the crossbow on his back onto the table.
"!"
The axe was an ordinary weapon. But the moment the soldiers saw the crossbow, they flinched.
"Take the bag off as well."
He set it down, and the soldiers opened it.
"What the hell? Why is there so much?"
More than half the hiking pack was packed with food. Twenty days into the apocalypse, an individual carrying that much food was a wealthy man.
A soldier wearing a colonel's rank insignia finished the luggage check and spoke.
"Sir, would you consider providing that crossbow to the military? We'd appreciate your cooperation."
He said "cooperation," but it was effectively a demand. Dohyun didn't yet have the strength to defy the army, so he had no choice but to hand it over—but he wasn't about to give it away for nothing.
"It's my primary weapon, though."
"If you provide it, we'll compensate you adequately."
The colonel pulled out thirty coupons.
"Meal coupons. You can receive thirty meals at the Osan military base."
Even with Dohyun's ample food stores, thirty meals was no small sum in the middle of an apocalypse.
Not bad, but…
Dohyun pretended to deliberate for a moment.
"Make it ten more. Then I'll throw in the fourteen bolts I have as well."
The colonel considered briefly, then nodded.
"Very well."
And so Dohyun handed over the crossbow and fourteen bolts in exchange for forty meal coupons.
I'd already used most of the bolts anyway.
A sling could replace it now. He'd sold the crossbow for a good price.
With the trade complete, the inspection was over. Looking satisfied, the colonel offered a final word.
"Once you're inside Osan, do not cause any trouble. Things are different in there from everywhere else."
A last warning against stirring up problems.
"Understood."
"Go on in."
Passage into Osan was granted.
Still early days, I guess.
The trade had been surprisingly democratic. Being the early stage of the apocalypse, they hadn't taken an overly heavy-handed approach.
Satisfied with the deal, Dohyun stepped into Osan.
Osan was a region where the ROK military and U.S. forces had jointly secured a firm grip on public order. Even so, the occasional infected person still slipped through, so soldiers and police conducted searches and patrols to eliminate or expel them before they could turn and create more zombies.
Entering downtown Osan, he found American troops, Korean soldiers, and police everywhere on the streets. Some civilians carried weapons as well. The disordered cityscape unique to the apocalypse stretched out before him.
Near the checkpoint entrance stood a massive temporary hospital packed with people—for the obvious reason.
"I was wounded in the fighting just now."
"We'll treat you. First, we're restraining your hands and feet."
"What? I wasn't bitten."
"We're restraining you anyway."
Soldiers and civilians injured fighting zombies outside came here, and because every one of them carried a risk of infection, they were bound hand and foot before treatment.
Past the hospital, he came to a street that cars had once driven down. One wall was plastered with an enormous number of paper notices.
Looking for Cheon XX, born 2004, Dogok-dong, Seoul.
Many people had fled to Osan from Seoul and the Gyeonggi region, and the wall was covered in notes searching for family and friends lost along the way.
Yeah. I did the same thing once.
Before his regression, Dohyun had searched for his younger brother the same way. He understood exactly how these people felt.
A little farther down the street stood a military supply depot, the area around it loud with people.
"Come on, just a little rice."
"No."
"So people like us who ran with nothing are just supposed to starve?"
"Participate in the work the military offers and take your pay."
The depot only issued food and supplies to those holding military-issued food tickets or coupons. People with nothing crowded in to protest, but the soldiers refused them flatly.
Still a livable world, for now.
Human rights still existed in this period. Given more time, the soldiers would start answering protesters with violence.
Beside the military supply depot, merchants had set up shop—makeshift stalls everywhere, selling goods.
A market already formed.
The merchants sold all kinds of things, but the main trade goods were food—especially portable canned goods and instant meals. Some also sold weapons for use against zombies.
And then—
"Hey, that bicycle of yours for sale?"
Seeing Dohyun's bike, merchants eyed it with naked greed.
Originally he'd planned to ride it all the way to Suwon. But according to information he'd picked up in Pyeongtaek—
The roads to Suwon still aren't cleared, and they're crawling with zombies.
Riding a bicycle would invite far too many ambushes. Since a merchant had spoken first, Dohyun answered.
"How much are you offering?"
"Five million won sound good?"
"Hahaha. This guy's a total con man. Money's worthless now."
Twenty days into the apocalypse, currency had lost all value. Most goods in the market traded by barter or for military-issued food tickets.
"Then how about ten cans of food?"
Ignoring the merchant who took him for a sucker, Dohyun raised his voice so the others could hear.
"Bicycle for sale! Fifty food tickets!"
Every merchant's eyes locked onto his bike. Then one of them—
"I'll take it for fifty!"
"No, fifty-five!"
"Fifty-seven!"
It was a popular item, and an auction broke out in reverse. Dohyun sold the bicycle to the merchant who bid sixty-one tickets.
Browsing the market, he spotted a motel still in operation nearby.
Sleep on the street or in a shelter? No. I'll sleep somewhere proper.
Osan was densely packed with refugees who'd come down from Seoul. Empty buildings were unlikely. For a safe night's sleep, he headed into the motel.
Ding-a-ling.
"Welcome."
A man at the counter greeted him, looked Dohyun over, and asked,
"Here to stay the night?"
"Yes. This is a safe lodging, right?"
"Of course. It's a military patrol zone."
If soldiers managed the area, it wasn't perfect—but it qualified as safe lodging.
"What's the rate for one night?"
"You know cash doesn't work, right?"
At that, Dohyun pulled out a single food ticket.
"One food ticket a night. A room with running water is three."
Dohyun produced two more tickets. The owner collected all three and handed over a key.
"Room 403. Running water. No electricity, though. And the room hasn't been cleaned. The water's cold."
"The door locks properly?"
"Of course. Still, keep any valuables close."
The conversation ended, and Dohyun took the key. The number stamped on it read 403.
"Hmm…"
Room 403 was completely empty. Every piece of furniture was gone—though at least there was no trash.
"Sleeping bag will do."
No bed was a shame, but still—
Whoosh…
In the bathroom, the water ran fine.
"Time to wash up."
When you had a chance to bathe, you took it. Dohyun set down his gear, stripped, and stepped straight into the shower. It had been nearly a week.
As he washed, he sorted through recent events in his head.
Pyeongtaek was fun.
Pyeongtaek had been full of half-baked outlaws. With the military stationed in Osan, the truly strong or vicious ones didn't stick around there. Among those amateurs, he'd had a great time reverse-hunting the bandits who preyed on people.
No experience points, but I pulled in over a thousand Zombie Coins.
The first month was precious time—but a thousand Zombie Coins made the days in Pyeongtaek a worthwhile investment.
Almost a month now. Goal is to reach Suwon before that.
Rest today. Tomorrow, head for Suwon. He revised the plan once more.