One Day After the Apocalypse
A foul stench stabbed at my nose. Dust and blood mixed with some unidentifiable rot, a nauseating reek that made bile rise in my throat.
Five months since the zombie outbreak, and by now I should have grown used to the air of this hellish world—yet this smell alone I could never adapt to.
Especially the day after rain, when the damp air carried that sickening odor even stronger, it still triggered dry heaves no matter how many times I breathed it in.
I adjusted my grip on the old crowbar, its tip slightly bent, and scanned the interior of the emptied-out big-box supermarket. What had once been a lively space packed with people was now as silent as a vast tomb.
Most of the fluorescent lights on the ceiling were shattered; only the occasional emergency exit signs still hung, casting their eerie green glow.
Beneath that weak light, the shelves had toppled like dominoes. The floor was littered with broken glass and debris, and dark crimson bloodstains that had long since dried and crusted over since that day, spreading in every direction.
Either the creatures had swept through in a frenzy, or survivors who arrived before us had already looted the place. Either way, the problem was that almost nothing seemed left for us.
"Tch. This place's already been cleaned out too. All that effort for nothing."
The muttered curse had barely left my lips when a voice sharp as a razor blade cut in right behind me.
"Seo Yeong-chan. I told you to keep your voice down, didn't I? You planning to advertise to the whole neighborhood how loud you are? Trying to call every single one of those things nearby?"
It was Seo Yeong-ju. Hood pulled all the way up over her gray hoodie, she approached with the soundless steps of a weightless cat and gave my back a light tap. Even that gentle strike carried bone-rattling irritation. The scolding came free of charge.
"Hey, I am being quiet. It's just the two of us in this huge place—why are you acting like we're standing on the edge of a cliff?"
"That paranoia is the only reason you're still standing on those precious two legs of yours and breathing, you idiot."
Yeong-ju clicked her tongue and kept scanning the surroundings.
Her gaze never settled in one spot, sweeping thoroughly over the dark shadows beyond the collapsed display cases.
Her nagging had long since become like a lullaby to me. The same repertoire, day after day for five months.
But I knew one thing for certain: not once had she ever been wrong.
"Okay, okay. I'll be careful."
That pathological vigilance of hers had saved our lives dozens of times over. So I had no room to argue. Here, the only option was to duck my head and radiate apology with my whole body.
We were picking through the remains of a survivor hideout that someone else had already cleaned out once.
Clinging to the threadbare hope of finding something precious they might have left behind—like searching for a needle in a desert.
A single can of food, a bottle of clean water, or even a few antibiotic pills—now that even a small wound could fester and kill—would be a precious find that could stretch today's life into tomorrow.
"I'll start over there, the warehouse by the frozen foods section. You take the household goods aisle. If you find anything useful, don't you dare shout. Come tell me quiet as a cat. Got it?"
"Got it. I'll be careful. Quiet as a sneaky cat."
Even at that, Yeong-ju just shot me a look of pure disbelief, raised her middle finger, and vanished into the darkness toward the warehouse with truly soundless steps. A snort of laughter escaped me on its own.
No matter how prickly and cold she acted, she was the only person in this hellish world I could trust with my back.
We had been senior and junior in the same university club. Now we were the only two left in the world—family who had to keep each other alive.
"Household goods aisle, huh... wonder what's even left."
I started digging under the overturned display racks. Most of the scattered merchandise was useless junk.
Torn-open snack bags, moldy bread, batteries that had leaked dry in their packaging, and one old photograph that had lost its owner.
Probably fallen from someone's wallet. In the photo, a family smiled brightly. A dad giving his little daughter a piggyback ride, a mom laughing happily beside them.
Their peaceful faces made my chest tighten for a moment, but I quickly set the photo aside and shut down the sentiment.
This world was far too harsh and merciless for lingering in nostalgia. For all I knew, the people in that photo were already among the things wandering the streets below.
Then something caught my eye at my feet. I looked down and saw a dented canned food tin.
The label was too filthy with dirt and dust to read, but there was no sign it had been opened. Hoping against hope, I bent down and reached for the can.
I just wanted to check if there was anything inside.
Clang! Clatter! Clang!
The result was disastrous.
The can was tied to a thin string, and the other objects connected to that string rattled and rang out in a cascade of noise.
It wasn't that loud, but inside the vast, deathly silent supermarket the sound began to spread as clearly and powerfully as if it were blasting through a loudspeaker.
Damn it. I frantically tried to stop the objects from moving, but I already felt a cold sweat trickle down my spine from the sudden tension.
"Do you actually want to die?!"
Yeong-ju had already closed the distance and smacked the back of my head with everything she had. It hurt—a lot. My skull rang and stars exploded in front of my eyes for a second.
"Sorry! It was a real accident! Looks like the people who used this place as a hideout before set up an intruder alarm. It was seriously well hidden."
"How many times have I told you that kind of 'accident' can get us both killed?! You stupid bastard! What are you gonna do if those things hear this and come swarming in from outside?! You gonna stop them with that empty head of yours?!"
"Okay, okay! I'm sorry, I'm sorry! My bad!"
I raised both hands in a gesture of surrender. Yeong-ju still huffed with unspent anger, but her instincts had her scanning the surroundings again.
She knocked the crowbar out of my hand, drew her own dagger, and listened carefully. Thankfully, there still didn't seem to be any unusual movement.
She let out a deep sigh of relief, then glared at the can I had lifted as if it were something disgusting. It was a mackerel can trap—sealed to look unopened, filled with rocks.
"You made all that racket over this piece of crap? You worthless mackerel-head."
"Hey, I thought there was actual food in it!"
"Seo Yeong-chan, for once in your life, try thinking before you act. Please. This world isn't your game world—"
She shook her head and started to turn back toward the warehouse, then suddenly stopped, having spotted something.
Her gaze landed on a small hiking backpack wedged precariously between a pile of collapsed bricks and a toppled beverage display.
Someone in a hurry must have left it behind.
Yeong-ju approached carefully, checked the area, then quickly pulled the pack free. When she unzipped it, her eyes widened slightly.
"Jackpot."
What she pulled out were two cans of peach preserves and a brand-new medical compression bandage still in its plastic packaging.
In this damned world, those were as good as gold bars—precious items that meant the difference between life and death. My eyes went wide too.
"Holy crap! That's my Yeong-ju. You're on another level. Treasure-hunting pro."
"Hmph. Unlike someone who falls for the most obvious traps. You bring disaster, I find hope. Pretty clear difference, right?"
She shot back snidely, but I didn't miss the way the corner of her mouth lifted just a little. I started searching the area more thoroughly myself.
I needed to score something too. I couldn't just end the day getting chewed out.
Then, under the cushion of a torn leather sofa, I found something hard.
I carefully pulled it out—a slightly worn but excellent-condition comic book, still in its plastic cover.
The final volume of the Seoul Walker series I had been obsessed with before the zombie outbreak. The one whose ending I never got to see because the world ended, leaving me pounding the ground in regret.
"Hey! Look at this! I found something too!"
I waved the comic like treasure. Yeong-ju, who had been packing the cans into the backpack, turned to stare at me with pure disbelief.
"What are you gonna do with that junk? Use it for kindling? Or as a pillow?"
"Come on, people can't live on food alone. You need stuff like this to breathe a little.
Right? Perfect for reading on night watch when you can't sleep. This is what they call food for the soul."
"You'd be a lot better off spending that time checking the perimeter one more time for your survival. Dump that useless trash taking up backpack space right now."
Yeong-ju's voice was firm. To her, anything not directly tied to survival was garbage. But I absolutely could not give this up.
"How is this trash?! The more hopeless the situation, the more important it is not to lose your humanity! This isn't just a scrap of paper—it's proof we're still human, a precious treasure that protects our minds!"
"What a load of crap. Does that precious treasure fill your empty stomach? Or smash a zombie's skull for you?"
"God, you're a woman with zero romance! People like you always get eaten first in the movies! Your soul's all dried up!"
"What? You done talking? I'll outlive an idiot like you who gets all sentimental and runs around collecting comics any day. You think that 'romance' of yours is gonna protect us?"
Our voices were getting louder. We both knew the other was wrong—or maybe we both knew the other was right—but in this endless, grinding reality, if we didn't have these stupid arguments we really would go insane.
Our ways of surviving were different. She kept both feet planted firmly in reality. I was closer to an idealist who needed even the tiniest 'purpose' to hold onto.
That was the moment we were glaring and sniping at each other.
Creeeeak—
A bone-chilling sound came from outside the window. The sound of an old iron door opening on rusted hinges. At the same time, as if they had heard our argument, the low moans of 'them' began to dig into our ears from multiple directions.
In an instant, every movement from both of us stopped.
The fierce argument from seconds ago vanished like a lie, leaving only survival instinct flashing sharp and cold.
We looked into each other's eyes as if by prior agreement. No more words were needed. Yeong-ju mouthed silently:
Quiet.
I nodded and tightened my grip on the crowbar. Yeong-ju likewise clenched the handle of the dagger at her waist.
Our petty argument was over. Now it was time to survive together again.
I carefully tucked the comic book into my jacket. Yeong-ju saw it and said nothing, just clicked her tongue once. That was her way of giving permission—but I still felt her eyes on me.