The Food Chain
The evidence that law and order had collapsed stood right before my eyes. Cops who showed zero interest in maintaining public safety and instead robbed civilians. It was an extremely positive development. How nice would it be if they simply stopped arresting people for committing crimes? I flashed a genuine smile at the police officers eyeing our haul. Of course they couldn’t see it behind the mask, but the eyes and overall vibe still carried through.
“Your eyes are twitching. Looks like you’re low on magnesium. Good thing I happen to have some supplements right here.”
I rummaged through my bag for the vitamins, and the cop’s eyebrows began to quiver violently as he backed away. A clearly flustered voice rang out.
“W-what the hell? Why are you reacting like that?”
“Freeze! Don’t move that hand!”
Even the officer who had been watching our rear rushed over, visibly rattled. It was as if I had a bomb hidden somewhere. I paid them no mind and pulled out both the magnesium and a multivitamin.
“Here’s the magnesium.”
I offered it like a gift, but the police refused to take it. Instead, tension flashed across their pupils as they stared at the supplements with open suspicion.
“Did you mix zombie saliva in there? Are you after our gear again—”
Some memory must have surfaced. Suddenly one of the cops jerked his pistol up and aimed it at my head. Classic PTSD. He really had been through the wringer, just like the treasure goblins we’d encountered before. I slowly raised my hands in surrender, and thankfully the other officer stopped him before anything exploded.
“Calm down. He’s just a regular citizen.”
“Hello. I’m a citizen. These are brand-new items from a pharmacy sale. Pure gifts, I swear.”
The gun barrel pressed against my forehead trembled. The cold touch of metal. Beyond it, the cop’s cloudy eyes shook like someone lost in traumatic memories. For a moment I heard Jeon Dohyeong and Park Yanggun quietly retreating. Then the officer’s face suddenly looked exhausted. Deep wrinkles formed around his sweat-soaked eyes. He lowered his weapon and wiped his face several times as if washing it.
“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”
“We’ve been attacked so often… Please understand, sir.”
I understood perfectly. I nodded. In this world, it was only natural not to accept gifts at face value. Even the sushi restaurant owner had fed me pufferfish poison. If I were them, I’d grab a weapon the moment a stranger offered me something too.
I asked with a hint of concern, “Are there really that many people attacking police these days?”
It was like flipping a switch. Both officers nodded vigorously. Rage burned in their eyes.
“Some lunatic posted on the internet telling people to attack police. A lot of armed bastards have been coming after us.”
…Wait, was that me?
I was probably the first person who wrote that kind of post. Had the ripple effect of what I wrote been bigger than I thought?
“People who ram their cars into police when they see them on the road. People who swing weapons at the back of our heads. People who lure zombies over and then steal weapons from our corpses. So many of our seniors and juniors have died at the hands of civilians…”
The officer’s hands shook as he squeezed his eyes shut. A strange emotion washed over me. The post I wrote had moved people. It had moved the world. If that was the case, maybe I’d taken one small step toward my dream of becoming a scenario writer.
Lost in my own thoughts, I quickly dug through my bag again and pressed a can of spam into his hand.
“You’ve really been through a lot. Must be hard dealing with zombies on top of everything.”
“You really didn’t have to…”
The cop gave an awkward laugh and accepted the vitamins and spam. The little incident had helped build some rapport. The same people who had been openly targeting our supplies were now acting friendly. They stuffed the gifts into their pockets.
Then a wicked idea suddenly bubbled up inside me.
Should I attack them?
Give them a bunch of gifts first. Then while their hands were full, smash their heads with the hammer. It was definitely doable. The police equipment would be a solid gain.
But I was aiming for a well-crafted scenario, so I suppressed the impulse. I didn’t have enough information about the overall situation to strike right now. Should I turn them into friends? Hunt them for loot? I needed more intel.
“By the way… is the police situation really that bad? I haven’t seen many officers hunting zombies lately.”
“Well…”
The officers hesitated. Only after I handed them another retort pouch did they speak slowly.
“A lot of our colleagues have been killed by civilian attacks. Some got infected and turned into zombies. Others were killed by zombies… The police force has basically lost all functionality. Even for us…”
They poured out their story. A small police box. Officers disappearing one by one. In the end, only a handful remained, and they had come out onto the streets to survive—blocking paths like bandits and stealing food from passersby.
“Be careful. The other precincts are pretty much the same.”
They worriedly shared news about police in other districts. Some had become street gangs. Others were thinking of raiding armories. Some had cozy relationships with vigilante groups. The larger stations had even declared themselves rulers of their territories. In short, the police had shattered like a broken bowl. It was excellent news.
“There’s a complete security vacuum. Good people like you are easy targets.”
“No, no. You officers are the ones more exposed to danger. You’re really going through a lot.”
That was enough for me to make my decision. These guys were worth keeping alive. They were the closest thing to firearms in this ruined city, valuable sources of information about the once-powerful government institution known as the police, and potential friends who could afford to pay the price of friendship. Maintaining a long-term relationship would be more profitable.
Collapsed public authority isn’t necessarily an enemy.
They weren’t police anymore—they were fellow outlaws. There was plenty of room to become friends. The senior outlaws in my mind—the cartels and mafias—didn’t form alliances for nothing. A warm, friendly atmosphere flowed between fellow outlaws who lived by preying on others.
One of the officers suddenly reached toward his waist. His fingers touched a taser.
“You only have a hammer for a weapon. At least take this.”
“Oh, a taser. That’ll ease my worries about zombies a bit.”
This was friendship. Friendship that bloomed through the exchange of gifts. The officer kindly explained.
“The cartridges are single-use, but you can still use it as a stun gun without them.”
“It works as a stun gun too, huh.”
I already knew that, but I put on the expression of someone touching a taser for the first time and carefully shook it. Then the officer shared more professional knowledge.
“The battery can be replaced with regular batteries. I’m not an expert, but—”
He explained how to disassemble the battery compartment and connect wires to regular batteries. Even if I already knew, it sounded complicated. Maybe the information was online somewhere.
We chatted pleasantly like that, exchanged contact information, and the time to part ways finally came.
“Let’s help each other out. Contact us anytime.”
“Yes. See you next time.”
I watched the officers walk away, waving. They were probably heading off to find easier prey to rob. Their figures didn’t look peaceful at all. They were excessively wary of their surroundings. At the slightest sound of a car engine, they would flinch and hide behind trees or streetlights.
A robber who broke into a former believer’s house. Us, who robbed that robber. And now the police, who were robbing our resources. Even the police, who seemed to sit at the top of the food chain, were someone’s prey.
This wasn’t even survival of the fittest anymore. In a world of ambushes, arson, firearms, poisoning, viral terrorism, zombie lures, and traffic accidents, everyone died the same. There were no true strong ones. In a world where everyone attacked everyone else, to survive…
I turned my head.
“The police are gone. You can come out now.”
“They’re gone? Hmm. Our Kim Dain really has great social skills. I couldn’t even talk to them.”
While I had been busy conversing with the police, the two thieves who had vanished like ghosts crept out of the building. Jeon Dohyeong’s face was deathly pale as he let out a sigh.
“That scared the hell out of me… Why are the police robbing civilians?”
“In a world where civilians attack police, it only makes sense that police would rob civilians too.”
I looked at Jeon Dohyeong like he was crazy. It would be unfair to expect them to only take beatings. We shouldered our heavy bags and headed back to the villa.
A world where robbery had become basic common sense was approaching. In a city that produced none of the resources necessary for survival—especially one where supply lines had dried up—the only way to live was to take from others. As we walked, we witnessed the scene vividly.
“Hard to tell who’s a zombie and who’s human anymore…” Park Yanggun muttered in a low voice.
Both zombies and humans wandered the streets in search of food to fill their stomachs. Convenience stores had been emptied long ago, so people’s homes had become their new targets. The difference between zombies and humans was whether they used specialized tools.
“A ladder?”
While zombies only broke first-floor windows they could reach, humans used ladders to target second-floor homes. Fortunately, they were still far behind our group of looters. After all, we had a professional thief, a master of deception, and a champion at climbing gas pipes—Park Yanggun. Any floor, any locked door opened in his hands.
Jeon Dohyeong stamped his feet anxiously.
“Hey, that’s our villa! Shouldn’t we do something?”
He was right. A ladder was propped against the second floor of the villa where we lived. The window was wide open and the ladder was empty, which meant a thief had definitely broken in. Of course, there was no need to worry.
“No rush. We already cleared out all the other units anyway.”
I agreed with Park Yanggun’s calm assessment. There was no reason to get worked up. We had already moved all the essential survival supplies to our own places. And if my memory served me right, that particular unit only contained corpses. Either zombie bodies or the residents’ remains.
“There are corpses in the house!”
Sure enough, the thief who had climbed the ladder came scrambling back out the window in terror. Must have been scared by the bodies. Either way, it was an opportunity. A chance to punish the intruder who had dared break into our villa.
I immediately sprinted over and kicked the ladder away. A scream drew a parabola as the thief fell to the ground. It was only from the second floor, so it wasn’t fatal. The thief writhed in pain but still managed to stand up, limping.
“What the hell! Why would you do this when there are people inside!”
“A thief— I mean, an intruder—has a lot to say, huh.”
Calling him a thief would be like insulting my own companions. I quickly corrected myself, and the other man’s face flushed red as he jumped up and down.
“Why am I a thief?! I’m family! I came because I couldn’t reach them!”
“Using a ladder?”
“I couldn’t contact the owner and the door wouldn’t open! What else was I supposed to do!”
…Was he really family?
No, that fact wasn’t important. Either way, he was a robber who had broken into our building. An enemy with hostile intentions. If we let him live, he might come back at night and set the place on fire. For our safety, preemptive action was necessary. The best defense is a good offense.
Clang! The hammer struck the man’s head. Then, as if speaking to the neighbors watching us from their windows, I declared loudly,
“Family? What family. That’s my house over there.”
Well, it was my house now, wasn’t it?