Finding a Means of Transport 3
Kang Po-gyeong’s mention of a “working vehicle” had been like rain after a long drought. Yet that rain did nothing to quench our thirst; instead it dragged a host of far more complicated and difficult problems along with it.
“A trade, huh…”
Yeong-ju spoke first.
“From everything Kang Po-gyeong said, that woman Sim Geum-a is no soft target. She sounds like the kind of cunning bitch who’d use even temporary allies as bait if it served her interests… Can we really expect a fair deal from someone like that?”
Yang Jin-ju nodded in agreement.
“She’s right. They almost certainly have far more food stockpiled than we do. Our emergency rations probably won’t even tempt her. So what exactly are we supposed to offer in exchange for something as precious as a vehicle?”
We ran through what we actually possessed: emergency rations, a handful of remaining firearms, and the Shelter itself.
“The power of the Shelter and the suits…”
I murmured the words under my breath, but Yeong-ju immediately shook her head.
“No. Absolutely not. The Shelter and these suits are our last emergency card. Exposing them to another group is far too dangerous. Who’s to say they won’t take one look at our strength and decide to plunder us instead?”
Her words were brutally realistic—and uncomfortably close to the truth.
We sank back into the same deep dilemma. To push safely through the dangers of downtown Daegu we would have to wear the suits. Yet the moment we appeared before them in those suits, we would be laying our strongest hand bare in front of potential enemies.
After a long discussion we concluded that even if we covered them with cloth or raincoats, we would still have no choice but to wear the suits. But we still had no answer for the most critical question—what to offer in trade—when we finally moved to the dining hall and began our evening meal.
It was while we were eating in that heavy, thoughtful silence that Yang Jin-ju suddenly fixed her gaze on Nam Jin-ju across the table, as if something had possessed her.
“…Jin-ju, that!”
She muttered the words and lunged, snatching the hand that had been reaching for a piece of stir-fried pork.
Nam Jin-ju jumped, eyes wide with confusion.
“Huh? What’s wrong? Did you want this? I can give it to you.”
But Yang Jin-ju completely ignored her. Her eyes were locked solely on the gleaming object in Nam Jin-ju’s hand.
It was not one of the plain plastic spoons or forks from our emergency ration kits.
It was a pair of smooth, solid iron chopsticks we had made for fun back when the new facilities first came online, just to test the performance of the resource processing room.
Yang Jin-ju yanked the iron chopsticks free and held them aloft, crying out with the joy of someone who had just shouted “Eureka!”
“This is it! This is exactly it!”
She launched into an excited explanation, sounding like a scientist who had just made a great discovery.
“Think about it! No matter how much food and how many people a large group has, there are still limits!”
She waved the chopsticks for emphasis and continued.
“Everyday essentials like these chopsticks—small but indispensable! They’re probably using plastic utensils or wooden chopsticks they can scavenge in bulk nearby. But those things break or wear out no matter how carefully you use them; losses are inevitable! So we mass-produce those same everyday goods out of sturdy iron and supply them!”
Her brilliant idea made every pair of eyes around the table light up.
“And! Without large-capacity containers that can store water for long periods, their water supply will swing wildly depending on whether it rains or not! Big, clean iron storage vessels—those would definitely be needed too!”
She looked around at us and asked one final question.
“When people live together in a group, what else do they need?”
At those words the gears that had locked in our heads finally began to turn again.
“…Cold-weather gear like tents and blankets!”
“Simple tools! Hammers, shovels, that sort of thing!”
“Small construction materials like nails and screws!”
Our faces brightened as we each started throwing out tradeable items and launched into a heated discussion. A short while later we all rose from the table as if by prior agreement, leaving our half-finished meals behind, and sprinted for the resource processing room.
Behind us in the dining hall, Kang Po-gyeong’s flustered voice trailed after us: “Uh? Uh? S-since it looks like you won’t be coming back, I’ll just clean up and go, okay?”
Once we reached the resource processing room we gathered in front of the giant touchscreen and began combing through every item the machine could produce, hunting for goods that were essential to daily life yet durable enough not to break or wear out easily—perfect for trade.
“Iron chopsticks and spoons are the baseline, of course…”
Yang Jin-ju started writing a list with paper and pen.
“This! How about this? Stainless-steel food trays! Easy to wash and they never break!”
Nam Jin-ju pointed at a section of the screen and called out.
“Oh, nice. Add those too.”
“And these. Large water containers. Fifty-liter ones. Make them out of iron and they’ll last practically forever.”
Yeong-ju cut in sharply.
“And ah—buckets and sturdy mop handles! Cleaning tools will definitely be needed!”
“Basic tool sets—hammers, pliers, screwdrivers—those should work well too!”
The three women excitedly flipped through the screens, pouring out ideas one after another. Yang Jin-ju carefully wrote every suggestion down on the paper.
We spent a long time compiling the list of daily necessities, still riding the high of the idea, until the screen finally reached the weapons category. At that moment we all stopped as if on cue and exchanged glances.
“…What do we do about weapons?”
Yeong-ju asked us.
Kang Po-gyeong, who had finished cleaning the dining hall and quietly joined us, offered her opinion.
“There will definitely be demand. Now that the group has grown larger, they will want more weapons to protect it.”
Her realistic assessment sent us plunging back into deep thought.
“Guns are absolutely off the table.”
I stated it firmly.
“What about knives… or spears? We could mass-produce those as long as we have the metal.”
Yang Jin-ju suggested.
“Knives eat up too much metal when you make them. Inefficient. Spears would be better. Just a long wooden shaft with a sharp metal tip fitted on the end. Saves resources and still packs a decent punch.”
Yeong-ju organized her thoughts and finally reached a decision.
“Good. Then no more hesitation—we start preparations first thing tomorrow morning!”
She suddenly turned to me.
“Seo Yeong-chan. Tomorrow you put on a Foundation Suit and go cut some wood. There’s a small hill about ten minutes north of the Shelter, right? Cut down some usable trees there. Be careful.”
Her abrupt order left me blinking in confusion.
“Huh? I don’t mind going, but why am I suddenly locked in as the wood-gatherer?”
She looked at me as if I were hopeless.
“You can’t even sort recycling properly. If you bring back half-assed metal again and the machine rejects it, that’s just wasted time. Heavy labor suits you best. While you’re gone we’ll gather and sort the metal and other materials around here.”
The humiliating memory of the rebar bundle I had collected earlier—rejected outright by the machine because concrete was still mixed in—flashed through my mind. I could say nothing more; I simply nodded.
The next morning Nam Jin-ju and I stepped out of the Shelter side by side, me in a Foundation Suit and her in a Walker Suit.
Nam Jin-ju’s job was scavenger—collecting metal, glass, plastic, and other resources nearby—while I was the lumberjack heading into the hills for wood.
“Come back safe! If it gets dangerous, return immediately!”
Yeong-ju and Yang Jin-ju saw us off at the entrance; Kang Po-gyeong was already busy with the morning laundry. We waved back and set out on our separate missions.
Nam Jin-ju was already using the suit’s strength to yank copper wiring out of metal streetlamps as easily as pulling weeds, working her way through a pile of scrap.
I waved to her and set off toward the northern hill marked on the map.
Thanks to our thorough sweep of the area the day before while hunting for a working car, most of the zombies that might have interfered had already been cleared out. The road to the mountain was surprisingly peaceful.
When I reached the trailhead of what, only seven months earlier, would have been a pleasant hiking spot for the locals, I felt an oddly refreshing scent of phytoncides even through the suit.
“Nice…”
I muttered to myself without thinking and began climbing the narrow trail in earnest.
To think I would get to take a peaceful walk like this in this hellish world. For a short while the unfamiliar sensation made me forget that civilization had ended. I climbed slowly, scanning the surroundings for good stands of timber, and near the summit I came face to face with an unexpected sight.
More than twenty zombies stood like stone guardians on the flat ground at the end of the trail.
Yeong-ju, who I had assumed was busy making goods in the processing room, must have stopped by the support room and checked the feed; her voice came over the comms.
“Yeah, no idea.”
I answered while drawing the shovel-shaped energy saw from the right hand of the Foundation Suit. One by one I calmly returned the charging zombies to nature.
After finishing them all I surveyed the area. The people who had been here looked like survivors who had fled to the mountain summit when the outbreak began and tried to hide.
Seven collapsed tents, the remains of a campfire, cooking pots, and the empty snack bags and drink cans of whatever they had eaten were neatly stacked to one side. They had clearly maintained some kind of order and held out here for a considerable time.
Yeong-ju’s voice came again. I lifted my gaze and, just as she said, saw five small mounds of earth that looked like graves. Two of them, however, had been hideously torn open as if something had clawed its way out.
“These people… maybe they buried a bitten comrade without even confirming the infection, and then got taken out by the zombie that dug itself free?”
I offered the guess. Yeong-ju was silent for a moment.
“Ugh, no way…”
Her horrific speculation made me glance again, almost against my will, at the pile of food scraps. And there, mixed among the empty cans and snack wrappers, I found white bone fragments. Whether they belonged to mountain animals or not, I could not tell.
Yeong-ju seemed to follow my gaze; her voice came once more—“It doesn’t matter anymore. Just focus on cutting wood”—and then the support room went quiet again, as if she had left.
I looked one last time at the fallen zombies and the two ruined graves, a complicated mix of emotions churning inside me. Then I turned my back on the scene and moved on, searching for a good stand of usable timber.