A Fisherman, a Fire, and the Taste of Civilization

I set down my fishing rod and picked up the bow.

Then I studied the figure approaching me.

A backpack on his shoulders, a tackle bag in his hand—so at the very least, he wasn't a zombie.

He was wearing sunglasses, which made his expression impossible to read.

Then again, so was I.

He's not about to jump me out of nowhere, is he?

Every possible thought ran through my head. But judging by his appearance, there was a ninety-nine percent chance he was just an ordinary angler out for his usual cast.

Nocking an arrow and aiming it at him would have been overkill.

He came close, peered into my fish net, and said, "Well, look at that! ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠You've caught quite a few cherry trout!"

I gave a small nod and didn't bother replying.

His eyes fell on the bow in my hands. "Whoa! You're going to fish with a bow? I've always wanted to try that. But I wonder—are there fish around here big enough to shoot?"

He tilted his head, then gave me a light bow. "Well then, good luck out there!"

I nodded back in return, and he resumed walking in the direction he'd been headed.

"Excuse me!"

At my call, he turned around. "Hm? Me?"

"Where did you come from?"

"Why do you ask?"

My sudden question put him on guard instead.

Only two days had passed since the zombie outbreak. A diehard fishing fanatic who camped outdoors for a week—sometimes several—at a stretch could easily have missed the news entirely.

I could have just let it go, but something told me I should say something.

I asked him point-blank. "Do you know about the zombie outbreak?"

"What? What outbreak?"

"Zombies."

At the word zombies, he seemed at a loss for what expression to make, looking utterly bewildered.

"Come on now, you almost had me with that joke. Deadpan humor, huh."

"It's not a joke. If you've got a phone, check the news."

He pulled his phone out of his backpack and powered it on. He'd shut the thing off entirely to fish in peace, undisturbed by anyone.

"Huh? How do I have this many missed calls?"

An anxious look crossed his face as he searched the internet—then he jumped back with a shout. "Good Lord! There really is a zombie outbreak!"

"Seoul and Incheon are already sealed off."

"What about Daejeon? What's the situation in Daejeon?"

Apparently his home was in Daejeon.

"Not sure. Try making a call."

"Oh, right—that'll work."

He dialed somewhere.

A moment later, the voice of a furious woman came pouring out of the receiver.

After hanging up with his wife, he bent into a deep bow toward me. "Thank you so much! If it weren't for you, I might never have seen my family again!"

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"You're heading straight to Chungju now?"

"Yes, I have to! My whole family's there."

"What are you driving?"

"I brought the car. It's parked down that way."

I didn't drag out the conversation. "Travel safe."

"Thank you!"

He scurried off the way he'd come.

He must have been in an absolute panic, because he flung his heavy backpack and fishing bag to the ground and ran on without them.

I watched his retreating figure for a while.

Only once he was completely out of sight did I walk over to the bags he'd abandoned.

"This fishing bag is top of the line."

When I opened it, the rods inside were all premium gear as well. There were even several spoons—exactly what I'd been needing for cherry trout fishing.

Jackpot! What a haul!

Next I checked the backpack. It was stuffed with high-end camping equipment, including a top-shelf goose-down sleeping bag. There was also a generous supply of military-grade heat packs—strong and long-lasting.

Tonight I'll be sleeping nice and warm.

I gathered up everything the man had left behind, then looked back in the direction he'd gone.

Would he actually make it to his family?

All the countless dangers that could spring up along his journey flashed through my mind.

Better to worry about my own business.

I began cleaning the cherry trout.

On my way back home, I spotted smoke rising in the distance.

I climbed to a high vantage point to check. It was coming from the chimneys of the houses in Deoksu-ri Village.

They'd lit fires in their cookstoves and wood-burning stoves.

What happened to their safety paranoia?

The villagers had been too terrified of drawing zombies to light so much as a match. So what had suddenly made them so bold?

On a hunch, I browsed the internet on my phone—and found the answer.

The government had laid down some extremely strict rules to prevent prank reports. Honest mistakes might be forgiven once or twice, but deliberately filing false reports would land you real prison time.

Since using the app required mandatory identity verification, anyone making a false report would be caught red-handed on the spot. In other words, the app's reliability was exceptionally high.

Well, well—the government's actually doing its job for once!

I studied the map.

Seoul and Incheon were completely red. Most of the satellite cities bordering Seoul were red as well. The areas of Gyeonggi Province outside the capital region were mostly yellow, and here in Inje, Gangwon Province, every single zone glowed green—secure.

That green was remarkably soothing to look at.

So that's why everyone lit their stoves. Rural folks really do catch on faster, I tell you!

I gazed at the village again. Watching the smoke curl up from chimney after chimney, I found my mood lifting for no particular reason.

I should light a fire too.

If the whole village was burning wood, there was no reason I couldn't. Common sense said that even if zombies did appear around here, they'd be drawn toward a village full of fires—surely not toward the lonely valley where one man lived by himself.

I'd roast pheasant and cherry trout over the stove fire tonight.

And lighting the stove had another perk, too.

Tonight's the night I properly smoke the rafters and warm the floor.

The stove's heat was designed to pass through the ondol floor of the room before escaping through the chimney—so once the fire was going, I could sleep on a toasty-warm floor.

Oh, this is exciting!

I hurried home and headed into the kitchen, stuffing dry leaves into the stove. The chimney might have been blocked from years of disuse, so I burned the leaves first and checked. Thankfully, the smoke drew up just fine.

There we go!

I filled the stove's kettle to the brim with water. Time for a hot bath—first one in ages!

I fetched firewood from the pile beside the storage shed and lit it. The flames took beautifully.

I went into the room and checked for smoke leaks, but unlike my worries, there was no problem at all.

The old house is in great shape!

I had to admire the rural house for holding up so well after sitting empty so long. Then again, I did drop by once or twice a year to look after the place.

That was when it happened.

"Hyeong-woo!"

Someone was calling my name from outside the gate. No need to be startled—it was the voice of Choi Jin-beom, the youngest son of the village chief.

I opened the gate for him and said, "You've always had the luck of a well-fed man."

"What good stuff are you eating?"

He stepped into the kitchen, spotted the pheasant and cherry trout I'd laid out to grill, and broke into a grin. "And here I thought you'd be gnawing on arrowroot root. You've got the good stuff!"

He was holding something in both hands. "What's that?"

"Pork su yuk and kimchi. Brought them for you."

The villagers who'd lit their stoves had started cooking proper meals.

I shouted at Jin-beom, "Hey!"

"What?"

"Let's eat—now!"

We ate the pork su yuk and grilled the pheasant and cherry trout—a genuine feast for the first time in ages.

The pheasant, wrapped in aluminum foil and roasted, was delicious. But the taste of the pork su yuk...

This is the taste of civilization!

The pork, its gaminess mellowed with medicinal herbs, melted in my mouth alongside the kimchi. If salt-grilled pheasant over an open flame was the taste of the wild, this was the very essence of Korean culinary culture in a single bite.

"Good food like this deserves a drink, doesn't it?"

Jin-beom cracked open the soju he'd brought and poured it into two paper cups, holding one out to me.

Refusing in a situation like this would've been poor form. Half a bottle of soju was well within my limits, so I took it, clinked cups with him, and took a sip.

"Ahh, that's the stuff."

"It's nice having a drink with you again."

I nodded at his words. "Hasn't it been a while? Last time we saw each other was in Seoul, two years ago, wasn't it?"

"Ah, right."

A girl from our middle school class had gotten married in Seoul two years back.

"How's Hye-jeong doing? Married life treating her well?"

At his question, I shook my head. "No idea."

"You live in the same city and you don't know?"

I fired his joke right back. "Seoul's not exactly the size of Inje-eup, you country bumpkin. What good does being a schoolteacher do you? Still a total hick."

Hahaha!

We laughed together. Then Jin-beom asked me, "So how'd you manage to get out of Seoul in one piece?"

"Grandma came to me in a dream. She told me I'd die if I didn't come home."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah."

"Whoa! That's wild!"

I kept quiet about the message that had appeared before my eyes.

"What on earth caused all this, anyway?"

"How would I know?"

"Aren't you supposed to know? You work at a big corporation."

"There you go again, you country bumpkin."

Hahaha!

Jin-beom was roaring with laughter when he suddenly stopped and said, "Oh, right. A strange old man showed up in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the village."

"A strange old man?"

"He's not right in the head. Doesn't know his own name, keeps begging for food nonstop. Dementia, probably."

"Is that so?"

"Dad felt sorry for him, so he's letting the old man stay at the community hall."

I nodded silently. The chief's inability to turn away anyone in need hadn't changed a bit.

"But listen—this is just my own hunch..."

"What hunch?"

"That old man's face looks exactly like your company's chairman."

"Our company's chairman? Ko Young-joon?"

"No—Ko Geon-hyuk!"

I snorted. The Honorary Chairman Ko Geon-hyuk and a demented old man? The two simply did not compute.

"Ridiculous. Why would Ko Geon-hyuk come to Deoksu-ri?"

"Yeah, I guess it doesn't make sense to me either. The great Ko Geon-hyuk himself, after all."

We talked this way and that about the zombie situation, and then Jin-beom suddenly said my name.

"Hyeong-woo."

"What?"

His expression turned serious. "Stop moping around out here all alone and come live in the village."

I shot back immediately. "What's that supposed to mean?"

He answered with the look of a man explaining the obvious. "What do you think? I'm saying it'd be safer in the village than out here. More people... and we've got guns."

Most of the village's adult men held Class 1 hunting licenses. A bow simply wasn't enough to take down the wild boars that tore up the fields.

"Dad led the villagers to the Inje-eup police station and brought back every gun they had."

Even firearms purchased with a hunting license had to be stored at designated locations. The chief had rallied the residents into retrieving every weapon held at the police station and bringing them back to the village.

"The police just handed over the guns?"

"Dad signed an agreement to set up a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠village armory and manage the weapons ourselves. And it's not just Deoksu-ri—people from every other village around swarmed the station raising hell. You think they'd refuse to hand them over?"

"When you fire a gun, won't the noise draw even more zombies?"

"Then we shoot the ones that come running too. You think zombies are going to roam the mountains in packs way out here?"

It sounded reasonable, and yet something about it made me uneasy. Guns always came bundled with accidents.

"So come to Deoksu-ri."

"This is Deoksu-ri. Deoksu-ri Mountain, Lot 33-7."

I brushed off his earnest proposal with a joke.

"Oh, come on... that's not what I mean."

Gulp.

He swallowed a mouthful of soju, his face tight with frustration. "You've always had this talent for hiding the real issue behind wisecracks."

I chuckled and tore off a roasted pheasant leg, handing it to him. "Eat something with your drink."

"I'm only saying this because I'm worried about you, you know..."

"We're close enough to hear each other if either of us falls over. No need to move anywhere."

Phew—

Jin-beom let out a long sigh. "The village elders begged and begged your grandmother to come live in the village, and she wouldn't so much as give them the time of day. You're exactly the same, you know that?"