The Hope Church

Knock, knock. The faint rapping and a voice drifted through the door. “Are you awake? You didn’t turn into a zombie, did you?”

I forced my eyes open. I had slept so deeply and soundly through the night that waking up felt like a struggle. A thick, sunken voice crawled out like a zombie’s groan. “Uh… ugh…”

“Ah, shit. Has he turned?” The door burst open and a hand axe raised high flew into the room. That razor edge. The weapon flashing as it caught the sunlight. I jolted upright and snatched the hammer beside my pillow. All traces of sleep vanished in an instant as an urgent shout tore from my throat. “No! Put that axe down!”

“Why are you making sounds like a zombie… You really are a weird person.” Jeon Dohyeong lowered the axe with an awkward expression.

I rubbed my face several times with both palms, then pulled on my mask first. Of course it was the correct move. I had done the same thing to him before. Fearing we might turn while sleeping, we kept to separate rooms with the doors closed, and checking whether the other was still human each morning had become routine. But being on the receiving end made my heart drop. What if he had hurled the axe without hesitation?

I waved him off. “I’m going to eat, so stay in your room.”

“Got it. After we eat, let’s talk about what to do with the church.”

With a creak, the door closed.

I searched for something to eat. Food whose expiration dates were nearly up. Yogurt from one of the houses, tofu beginning to turn sour, eggs. The sort of things that would become inedible once the apocalypse truly took hold. It was too grotesque a menu to call a proper meal, yet I shoveled it down with the mechanical feeling of refueling. Yogurt, tofu, and egg mixed together in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠my mouth. A hazy thought drifted by. Have I gained weight lately?

Maybe it was because I was forcing down everything near expiration, but my body felt heavy. After eating without much thought, washing the dishes, showering, and boiling barley tea in the kettle, I knocked on Jeon Dohyeong’s door with the hammer.

“For now, I plan to attend the evening service first. What about you?”

“It’s stifling just staying inside… I’ll go too.”

The schedule was set. We rested thoroughly until evening, then slipped out onto the streets when no one seemed to be around.

The service was supposed to begin at eight in the evening. That was exactly when the power outage usually hit our area. They would start the moment the lights went out.

“We’re heading out an hour early? The church isn’t even that far. It looked like a twenty-minute walk.” Jeon Dohyeong swung his axe in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠obvious reluctance. He probably wanted to minimize time spent outside since simply being out here was dangerous. But I shook my head.

“The service isn’t the goal. This is reconnaissance.”

It was an outing to count their numbers, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠look for any opening where a knife could be driven in, and gauge the opponent’s capabilities. We needed enough spare time to circle the church building.

At the very least, I need to see a chance to assassinate that evangelist or pastor or whatever he calls himself.

Of course those idle thoughts didn’t last long. We were out on dangerous streets. I had no attention to waste on anything else. Both eyes stayed wide open, busy watching for zombies or lunatics. We scanned our surroundings, weapons ready to swing at any moment.

Cars still moved along the roads, and quite a few people could be seen on the streets. Naturally there were zombies too.

“…”

“…”

It was a bizarre coexistence possible only in this transitional phase. People tiptoed in wide arcs to avoid provoking the zombies. The zombies bared their teeth at passing cars but never quite threw themselves onto the pavement. It seemed some minimal judgment remained.

Of course this coexistence would not last.

How many infected are there now? One and a half million? They said zombies alone would exceed four hundred thousand. If more time passes from here…

The number of zombies would only keep growing. Almost no one visited the government testing centers anymore, and the self-diagnosis kits supplied in tiny quantities had instead driven infected people out into the streets. All because that PD who would leave his name in history had planted proper suspicion.

I swallowed hard.

The numbers are bad enough, but once they get hungry they’ll start actively hunting people.

No matter how I looked at it, the future was bleak. This was the apocalypse. The atmosphere on the streets had already sunk to something close to a wasteland. Restaurants permitted only delivery were quiet, and the music that once spilled from various shops could no longer be heard. People walking the silent streets gripped weapons capable of killing while watching every direction. In an era where each individual had to guard their own life amid pervasive threats, an ominous tension seemed to flow through the very air.

Tap, tap— Jeon Dohyeong and I, nerves stretched tight, signaled directions with hand gestures and took a winding path to avoid the zombies. Naturally we were delayed. By the time dim evening darkness had settled, we had taken nearly an hour for a distance that should have been twenty minutes and finally reached the church.

The church grounds were free of zombies. We ran desperately and stood panting at the chapel entrance. There had been no time to scout.

I should have left just a little earlier!

As I inwardly scolded myself, the grandmother standing at the chapel entrance smiled, eyes crinkling warmly.

“Such deep faith. Rushing so you don’t miss a single word from the pastor.”

“Ah, well…”

“Oh dear. Just sanitize your hands and hurry inside. The service is about to begin.”

I tried to answer, but the grandmother thrust the alcohol sanitizer at us without waiting. A post-it note was stuck to it.

A scientific and all-too-rational judgment. Was the pastor a cult leader after all? Or was he building a survivor group under the pretext of religion?

Jeon Dohyeong spoke awkwardly. “We’re wearing gloves, so isn’t this unnecessary?”

“You never know what might be on the gloves. Disinfect them anyway. Then write your names on the visitor list.”

I quickly rubbed the sticky sanitizer over my gloves while looking at the list. It was the same form used for contact tracing at marts and restaurants during the old COVID days. A chill ran down my spine. Name, number, address. Yes—address.

Is this to map out where people live so they can loot them later…?

My wariness surged. I had encountered something more dangerous than zombies. A human already adapted to the apocalypse, just like me. And one talented enough to organize a group under the banner of religion. For a moment my eyes nearly rolled back in my head. This was no simple cult. The pastor was my superior counterpart. I had to eliminate him somehow.

I quickly grabbed a ballpoint pen and recorded nonsense. Fake name, made-up address, random number. I nudged Jeon Dohyeong. “Uh, there isn’t much time left. Hey, I already wrote yours, so let’s hurry inside.”

“Yes. It doesn’t look like anyone else is coming, so let’s go in together.”

“Yes, grandmother, come with us too.”

Jeon Dohyeong was dragged along with a bewildered face while the grandmother followed. The sound of her slow footsteps behind us and the heavy bang of the chapel door closing felt ominous.

Did I seem suspicious? Why are ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠they watching me so closely?

Cold sweat trickled down my spine. Even so, I calmly observed the scene unfolding beneath the bright lights. A spacious chapel. Evil wooden chairs that tortured the spine. People packed tightly together. There were a lot of them. Men, women, elderly, and children, all mixed together, waiting only for the service and the pastor. The force the pastor could command with a single word. They were even armed with baseball bats, crowbars, axes, and kitchen knives. A gut feeling told me we were finished. How were we supposed to handle this? Arson? Fire extinguishers were everywhere. Viral terrorism? Everyone was wearing masks properly.

“No seats left. Unfold this chair and sit here.” Clack—the grandmother tapped a folding chair leaning against the wall. I quickly dragged it over and opened it near the chapel entrance. The optimal position for escape. The grandmother followed and sat beside me. A pleased voice reached us. “Thanks to our pastor, so many people have gathered at the church. It is all God’s guidance.”

“Um, grandmother. Is that miracle real?”

“Of course! I experienced it myself. The believers who were like family, the original pastor—they all turned into zombies. But our pastor, through prayer—”

While Jeon Dohyeong kept the conversation going with his sociable manner, I spotted something and squeezed my eyes shut. They had tried to hide it, but it could not fool me.

That’s a police pistol!

Several of the men standing along the wall like elders, deacons, bodyguards, or watchers had pistols tucked visibly at their waists. Were they police officers who were also believers? Or had they looted them after seeing the post I uploaded online? If so, I had handed guns to my enemy. It could not be. It must not be. They had to be ordinary plainclothes officers.

Just then Jeon Dohyeong showed interest in the standing men. “Why are those people standing? Don’t their legs hurt?”

“Hoho. They are all people who received salvation from the pastor. Brothers and sisters like me who directly experienced the miracle. The pastor personally drove out the virus—”

A sigh escaped me. So they were not police. They had appointed those with strong faith as executives and issued firearms only to them. The church was already organized far beyond my expectations. Any clumsy move and I would be the one to suffer. One wrong step and vengeful pursuers armed with both bullets and faith would surely come hunting us.

No plausible scenario is coming to mind.

As I secretly let out heavy sighs, darkness fell. The power outage had begun. Silence descended over the chapel. Everyone who had been murmuring closed their mouths at once. The darkness and silence pressed heavily on the mind. No one turned on a phone. There wasn’t even a cough or breath. That collective cohesion. The darkness even distorted one’s sense of time. Seconds or minutes, it was impossible to tell.

Jeon Dohyeong whispered softly. “Grandmother. When does the ser—”

“Shut your mouth.”

The kind grandmother’s personality flipped in an instant as she snapped sharply. Jeon Dohyeong closed his mouth. Then a warm flame bloomed where the pastor would speak. On the high platform, atop the long wooden pulpit, candles lit one by one, casting an orange glow across the pastor’s face.

Putting on a show, is he?

For a moment the scenario writer inside me surfaced, but it quickly vanished in the face of this hopeless situation.

This one’s untouchable.

I looked at the pastor’s face in dismay. To have already built a group this large. The young man who could easily pass for a college student closed his eyes and brought a portable microphone to his lips. His trained voice flowed out with solemn weight.

Bible verses. I listened to that voice in a daze, at least trying to grasp what kind of cult doctrine this church followed. The pastor continued reciting with solemn gravity. Keywords of plague, disaster, and protection. The prayer that followed.

“Oh, Lord. Almighty God. God of life. We believe You will save the lambs from the tribulations and plagues born of wicked men.”

Listening to the continuing words, I slowly grasped the core. The doctrine that the chairman of Immortal Company was Satan’s servant, that the I-Virus was Satan’s scheme, that those weak in faith became zombies, that the truly faithful could not be touched by the virus, and that even if they turned they could return. The pastor’s miracle-like feats and a doctrine perfectly suited to the current situation created powerful synergy.

I reached a conclusion. This could not be beaten. Like a government institution such as a police station, it was not something I could handle alone.

“Amen.”

—Amen!

When the pastor spoke briefly, a wave-like shout rolled back. I mimed praying roughly as if swept along by the tide. It was dark anyway so no one could see, but the performance mattered.

I recalled two old proverbs. If you cannot win, join them! With a group this large, joining might actually be more advantageous. Of course their faith and belief system is completely off, but…

I could simply pretend to be a fanatic. If it meant surviving the apocalypse, what couldn’t I do? The second proverb was this: The enemy within is the most terrifying!

If I can get close and find a quiet chance to assassinate him… Or secretly visit the addresses from the visitor list under the church’s name and loot them…

In the darkness my eyes flashed. Whether good or evil, every choice was made for profit. Depending on the situation, I could simply pick the bright and hopeful path.