Hope Too Early
The pastor—was this a real miracle? Truthfully, it made no sense that he hadn’t been infected yet. The sole uninfected man in a church where every other clergyman had turned, fighting zombies at close range without even a mask and still standing unharmed. My hands trembled. My heart pounded. An irrational thought crept in. A miracle. A clue that could ruin the chairman’s grand plan. Faith and rational thought ground against each other with a harsh, grating sound.
Does the pastor have antibodies? Immunity? Is he asymptomatic? If that were true, he had to die. If the government dragged him away for research and produced a cure, I—who was thriving in the apocalypse—might end up locked in the prison of a restored world. No, perhaps the restored world itself would be the prison.
I clenched my fists. My nails dug into my palms. My wavering gaze settled on the pastor, haloed by the glow of candlelight. Even in this chaos, he continued the service without faltering.
You appeared far too soon.
Just thinking of Pandora’s box was enough. All the disasters and evils had flown out, and hope came last, didn’t it? The world hadn’t fallen apart enough for hope to show itself yet. There still wasn’t enough disaster and evil. The moment that thought crossed my mind, the name Hope Church and the pastor’s existence felt like some kind of omen. A truly fated hope.
The killing intent sank deep inside me and sharpened into a blade.
Right. Hope shouldn’t appear this early. This is wrong.
It would only be proper if he appeared after police records and databases were completely destroyed, after the record of me killing someone on the first day of the zombie outbreak had vanished. Or thirty years later, in an era when I could steal someone else’s identity and live freely. The killing intent was refined into something dry and mechanical, like editing a sentence that broke the plausibility of a scenario I was writing.
“Amen.”
—Amen!
The service wrapped up in a hurry. Even though the power outage hadn’t ended.
“We’ll conclude today’s service early. Um… it’s getting dark, so there might be issues on the way out.”
The pastor trailed off, looking flustered. I snapped back to my senses and waved my phone like a flashlight.
“I’ll guide everyone out one by one!”
“Ah. Deacon Kwon, please handle the disinfection as well. Especially for those who came into contact with non-believers—make sure they’re properly disinfected.”
I’d leave that to Jeon Dohyeong. I nudged him.
“You stand at the entrance and make sure everyone gets disinfected.”
“Uh, yes. I mean, amen.”
Jeon Dohyeong, looking as if he’d been possessed, hurried out of the sanctuary.
“Please rise carefully and follow me.”
I smiled kindly as I guided people out, starting from the back rows, and thought to myself: the service was over, so they could turn their phones on now, yet they followed me passively. I needed to kill the pastor and shake the faith of these believers. No—I had to bring this threatening group down once, then reduce them to a level I could properly exploit.
That day’s service ended in disarray. The pastor, blood spattered around his mouth, dragged his feet with a dark expression and locked himself in his room. Before closing the door, he said, “Things seem to be getting worse. I will pray and meditate to discern God’s will.”
The elders, though worried about the pastor, scattered to prepare to return to their homes. The pastor looked burdened with concerns, yet they simply trusted him without any deep thoughts of their own.
Suddenly, an elderly woman smiled at me.
“Our Deacon Kwon, take care of the pastor, won’t you? He doesn’t seem to have eaten dinner. Later, boil him some ramen. There’s kimchi I made in the fridge too.”
It was a request only someone living in the church like me could fulfill. Technically, they could have asked Jeon Dohyeong, but for some reason they trusted me more.
The elders nodded in agreement.
“That’s right. The pastor is still young to carry such a heavy burden. Since you’re close in age, at least keep him company.”
“If there’s a place that delivers, order something. Here, this should help. Ramen won’t fill you up.”
“Come on, man. Do you know how expensive delivery fees are these days? Here, take it.”
Several 50,000-won bills were thrust toward me. I accepted them with an awkward smile. Even with delivery drivers hiking up their fees to push through zombie-infested streets, it was still a generous amount.
“You don’t have to… I’ll use it for the pastor.”
“Yes, eat well and keep the church safe tonight.”
The six elders filed out in a rush. I watched their retreating backs with a blank expression before turning to Jeon Dohyeong, who was grumbling beside me.
“Isn’t this discrimination? Why am I being ignored?”
“Oh, electricity thief. They must have smelled the sin on you.”
“What are you talking about, murderer?”
At his retort, I was momentarily speechless. I’d lost on logic. No—I couldn’t let a subordinate get the better of me. I quickly opened my mouth again.
“I repented through prayer. I’ve been forgiven.”
“If we’re going by that logic, then I’m the same, aren’t I? You’re a really strange person.”
Losing an argument this childish? He really was a vicious electricity thief. Compared to him, someone who only committed impulsive acts swept up in disaster, I couldn’t win against that brazen face. I let out a deep sigh. Not fighting was the best option, and if I had to fight, using someone else’s blade was the next best. I chose the best option.
“This feels a bit blasphemous. Shall we stop?”
“…You’re right. Forgive me, amen.”
Jeon Dohyeong, who had learned nothing but strange things while living in the church, clasped his hands and bowed his head. With that, the church fell into silence, and deep night arrived.
The pastor refused the late-night delivery, saying he had no appetite, and I wandered alone through the darkened church corridors. My footsteps, deliberately muffled, stretched silently forward. I was lost in deep thought within the darkness. A low voice slipped out.
“Betrayal…”
Was it right to betray someone who seemed to embody a miracle? Wasn’t this a little irrational? The Hope Church group was far too useful. I slowly reworked my way of thinking. Rationally. Logically. Like shaping characters and their actions when writing a scenario. A plausible logic flowed through my mind.
He could just be lucky. Or maybe he’s already infected and could turn into a zombie at any moment.
…Both were problems. How long would his luck hold? The pastor, who didn’t even wear a mask to flaunt his specialness, could be infected at any time without it being strange. Perhaps by tomorrow morning, I’d be facing a zombie pastor. Rationally speaking, the church’s collapse was only a matter of time. It was a private organization held together solely by the pastor’s power; the moment he turned, it would collapse into chaos.
A sudden realization struck me.
So this is the perfect timing to betray him!
My steps halted. The tangled worries vanished, chains fell away, and my body felt lighter. The future had narrowed to a single path, so all I had to do was run down it. Betrayal. An enemy within. My tasks were simple: eliminate the pastor, remove the church’s capacity for expansion, and plunder its resources.
Just as the scenario was writing itself in my head—
“…?”
I tilted my head. Aside from the pastor, Jeon Dohyeong, and me, the church should have been empty. Yet light was spilling from the storage room. White illumination leaked through the gap in the door, along with someone’s shadow.
That’s the storage room where we keep the food supplies.
Was there a thief? Had I finally crossed paths with one? Right when I’d just decided to betray? Was this divine will?
I forced my excitement down and crept toward the storage room. As the distance closed, a faint voice reached me.
“Miracle, my ass. Zombie blood got in my mouth—how the hell am I supposed to be fine? I need to find my own way to survive.”
It was a voice I’d heard before. The elder in charge of supplies. A middle-aged man of average height with a sly look. I opened the door without a sound. The elder was frantically stuffing boxes with long-shelf-life foods—hardtack, salt, sugar—staggering under the weight but still shoving more in. I was seized by suspicion. An elder stealing?
“Excuse me. Are you a thief?”
“H-huh?”
The thieving elder’s movements froze. He turned awkwardly and looked at me. His gaze locked onto the hammer in my hand.
“Deacon Kwon? This is… I’m not stealing, it’s just—”
“Are you a thief?”
Our eyes met. The elder thief, staring into my pupils, bit his lip hard and quickly drew a pistol from his waistband. He aimed it at me without hesitation. His hand didn’t tremble.
“Deacon Kwon. Let’s settle this nicely. I’ve got family at home, you see? I’ll only take enough food to feed them. Just keep your mouth shut. God said to show mercy, didn’t He? Right?”
“No. I asked if you’re a thief.”
I blinked. I couldn’t understand why we weren’t communicating. I was asking because I wanted to recruit him if he was a thief. The elder, studying my eyes, felt something and his hand trembled slightly.
“Crazy fanatic. Can’t reason with you. Those eyes are—”
“Are your ears bad? Do you know how to pick door locks? Can you siphon gas from cars? Do you have a cutter?”
“Huh…?”
This time the elder blinked stupidly. Annoyed, I closed the storage room door. The elder flinched for no reason, even though he had a gun. He spoke slowly.
“I did some stealing when I was young, but I repented and lived honestly after. But why…?”
“Door locks. Car gas.”
“You need equipment for that. The thing that makes a blue light and the pump for extracting fuel. No, what is this?”
The confused elder. I smiled beneath my mask. Finally, a thief had appeared. The main member candidate I’d been longing for. The way he immediately thought of the necessary equipment showed he had real expertise. This was fate. The fate to betray and build my own band of marauders.
I licked my lips briefly, then spoke in an excited rush.
“Elder in charge of supplies. Why is your vessel so small? Is this all you learned from the pastor?”
“What the hell is this—”
The elder looked as if he suspected he might be dreaming. Everything just felt absurd. I kicked at the rice sacks piled in the storage room.
“Are you really satisfied stealing this kind of thing once or twice? Didn’t the pastor show you himself? Real theft is stealing people’s hearts, their time, their labor.”
“Aha. This is a dream. No wonder. I must have fallen asleep from the tension of working after so long.”
The elder suddenly let out a hollow laugh, but when I slapped his cheek hard—smack—he came back to his senses.
“Deacon Kwon…?”
“This is reality, Elder. Wake up. And my real name isn’t Kwon Dain.”
The elder, rubbing his own cheek, stared at me blankly. His mask shifted as his mouth fell open.
“The church is hopeless. It can’t stop the apocalypse. You agree, don’t you?”
“Uh…”
“Then what should we do?”
“Survive?”
The elder parroted back. I extended my hand toward him.
“Let’s bring down the pastor and plunder all the church’s resources. Together.”
Jeon Dohyeong was already hard to trust, and I needed proper manpower. And now an internal enemy like the supplies elder—exactly the thief I wanted—had appeared. I had to recruit this man.
“But the pastor is a good person. That’s a bit…”
“He’s going to turn into a zombie anyway. He doesn’t even wear a mask. The living should live, and those who can survive should survive. And I’m not just offering empty prayers—I’m a disaster response expert. I’m the real future.”
I talked earnestly for a long while. The elder, already a defector who had stolen from the church, had no real faith left, so he eventually fell for my persuasion. It was the same logic as when he had entrusted his body to the pastor. I had simply offered a slightly more sustainable and reliable future. I had merely twisted the psychological foundation the pastor had laid, taking advantage of the crack.
The thieving elder, barely regaining his focus, looked at me anew.
“…But Deacon Kwon. Were you always like this? I thought you were a devout believer.”
“I’m just an ordinary person trying to survive the apocalypse.”
I answered vaguely. Then I asked what I was curious about—an interview question for a marauder.
“Do you really have family?”
“No. I had a wife, but we divorced. She took the kids too. …Don’t get mad about the lie. You’re not Kwon Dain either. It’s not like some demon is hiding your name.”
Pass. Marauders had to be a small elite force. Dead weight had no place in the apocalypse. More than anything, the lies that flowed from him as naturally as breathing appealed to me. So did the mindset that detected danger and betrayed faster than anyone else. Realizing we were the same kind, the thieving elder smiled.
“Alright. Let’s pull off something big.”
“I look forward to working with you, Elder.”
We grinned and almost shook hands before quickly pulling back. Had to be careful of the virus. We simply smiled sinisterly and began laying out various scenarios.
Day 35 of the zombie outbreak. After wandering between faith and doubt, I found my answer and recruited the thief I had so desperately wanted. An expert in theft, a defector who abandoned his faith, a natural liar. And beneath the shadow of the cross, a conspiracy ripened. The season of betrayal, the season when distrust took root instead of trust. The apocalypse.