The Spy
The neighborhood representatives, including the uncle, conferred briefly. They decided to negotiate with the apartment bastards. At the very least, they would demand the return of whatever supplies those bastards had taken from the neighborhood.
“Right. We can’t just walk away empty-handed.”
“If it comes to it, we fight. Our numbers aren’t that bad either.”
Their eyes gleamed with greed, anxiety, and murderous intent. Gripping their weapons with renewed resolve, they strode out of the management office with their heads held high. I kept my presence small, like someone who had simply been swept along. I followed at the rear of the group, moving at a leisurely pace.
Outside the management office, people swarmed beneath the streetlights. The apartment raiding party shifted their weight nervously, waving their weapons for no reason, stealing glances at the uncle. Peering out from behind the crowd on tiptoe, I also saw the apartment residents surrounding us.
…There really are a lot of them.
The people whose homes, whose territory, whose apartment complex had been violated radiated a menacing aura. Their eyes burned with vicious killing intent; blood already stained some of their weapons. We were losing the battle of momentum before it even began.
When the uncle stepped forward, the neighborhood people quickly parted to clear a path. The women’s association president and the management office director narrowed their eyes sharply.
“So you finally show yourselves, you thieves!”
The uncle tried to speak, but the management office director shoved someone forward. It was the arson squad that had gone to create smoke. They had all been captured. Their faces were already swollen from beatings. One had a cracked head and was dripping blood; another hung limp like a corpse. The women’s association president kicked the oil drum they had been carrying like a prisoner on display. Her voice was sharp as a needle.
“You were going to set fire to the apartments? You wanted to kill us all? Even the children living here? Well? Say something!”
“What the hell are you talking about, you crazy bastards! You attacked our neighborhood first! You killed people and now you’re saying this shit?”
It was all lies. Even if it was arson, they had only meant to burn the metal drums to make smoke, and the other side surely knew it. Conversely, the apartment people had never directly harmed any neighborhood residents either. It had been a contest of momentum, perhaps the prelude to actual fighting. In old wars, didn’t they always exchange words first? Your leader is this kind of vile person, they committed such-and-such wrongs—an attempt to secure moral justification. And just as there is no romance in war, their verbal sparring grew increasingly childish.
The women’s association president and the uncle continued their ugly exchange.
“You only looked through empty houses! We could tell from the way you were exaggerating last time! Every time you open your mouth, it’s a lie!”
“Oh! Now you’re making up things that never happened? Typical of someone shady enough to plant a spy!”
Personal attacks. They tore into each other at the most primal level.
“A spy? He came over of his own free will. Hey, neighborhood people. There are plenty of empty houses. Why don’t you come over to our side? In times like these, you should live in a nice, safe apartment. When else would you get the chance?”
“A nice apartment? You people look pretty weak. Must be starving, huh? You should join us instead. What’s so good about having more people? You just have to split the food that much thinner.”
They even tried to shake the other side and induce betrayal.
“So you want to fight right now? Go ahead! We have more people! We’ve already surrounded you!”
“Yeah! Fight! Getting beaten to death is the same either way!”
At times they raised their weapons and approached menacingly, as if they were about to start fighting right then and there.
“Let go! No, what are you doing! Those bastards came to set fire to our apartments! We have to fight!”
“Let go! Let go of me! You shameless apartment bastards!”
Even though no one had tried to stop them, the confrontation ended with both sides voluntarily backing down. Mixed among the crowd, I smacked my forehead.
How pathetic…
It wasn’t even elementary school kids fighting. They looked like children striking awkward poses from a distance and yelling at each other to come over. Even so, this was a life-or-death struggle for survival. Was this really how it was supposed to be? In an apocalyptic group conflict, you would expect a bloody slaughter. Not even venomous rhetoric—just this. I quickly scanned the people around me. Surprisingly, the mood wasn’t bad. The tension had eased considerably because of those two’s ridiculous display. Whispers reached my ears.
“Doesn’t look like they’ll fight.”
“Better if they don’t. No matter who wins, people will get hurt and die… We only followed because they threatened us.”
Voices filled with relief at the prospect of avoiding a fight. I understood. When this many people clashed, injuries were inevitable, and in this world, getting hurt could easily mean death. Still, I didn’t like it. I looked at the people with cold eyes. Villa Street, the neighboring neighborhood, the apartment complex. Potential enemies living close by. It would be nice if their numbers decreased just a little.
Until the blackout—thirty minutes?
After checking the time on my phone, I calmly assessed the situation once more. The plan had failed, yet it hadn’t. The argument wouldn’t end anytime soon, and more importantly, everyone had come outside. That was what mattered.
Tick-tock, time passed. I kicked at the ground idly, waiting for darkness to fall. After circling the management office once, the wait had grown tedious. The childish standoff had turned into a negotiation; the deadly tension had vanished, but a sharper conflict had arisen between the representatives. The return of supplies stolen from the neighborhood.
“Don’t say such nonsense! When did we ever take that much food?”
“You didn’t take food? You did!”
The resources the neighborhood people were trying to reclaim had been inflated. Since they had come all the way to the negotiating table, they wanted to squeeze out as much as possible. Conversely, the apartment people argued to give as little as they could. People fought fiercely over food, the essential resource for survival. Unlike the earlier childish bickering, this was filled with desperation, hunger, and a do-or-die spirit. They even looked ready to pick up weapons and swing them.
“Just fight! If we can’t get food anyway, dying is the same!”
“So you want us to starve to death? We already have to feed the apartment people—”
“Whoa, grab them!”
People rushed to hold them back and pull them apart. Tension flowed once more through the loosely gathered crowd.
Good.
Tap-tap-tap—I wiggled my fingers and checked the time repeatedly. Eight o’clock. Only minutes remained until the time the pastor would have been holding service—and until the blackout. Darkness. Perfect for inciting conflict. Perfect for hiding one’s identity. Avoiding the people who had sat down because their legs hurt, I slipped toward the back. The management office. Everyone was focused on the representatives’ negotiation; no one paid attention to the rear. My phone showed three minutes until the blackout. The time it took to wait for instant noodles. A time filled with anticipation. I took a deep breath, inhaling the faint scent of chaos.
——!
The blackout arrived. Startled voices rose for a moment, but it wasn’t their first time experiencing a blackout, so the atmosphere remained calm.
“What time is it…”
“Right now, the negotiation—”
No. We couldn’t let them negotiate. They had to fight. I immediately drew my pistol and fired at the management office window I had marked earlier.
Bang—!
The gunshot. The sound of glass shattering. For an instant, silence fell over the dark world. Had the gunshot ruptured their eardrums? Every sound—people’s breathing, the representatives’ conversation, the rustle of movement—stopped completely. I drew a deep breath and screamed until my throat tore.
“Aaaah! A gun! Someone fired a gun! Run!”
At the same time, I threw both hands wide and shoved the people in front of me. Screams erupted a beat later. It was an explosion. In an instant, pandemonium unfolded in the darkness.
“Aaaah! I’m dying!”
“Don’t block me!”
“Agh! They’re swinging weapons!”
Disoriented screams. Footsteps that seemed to shake the ground. The sound of people pushing and falling over each other. Weapons being swung. The sound of blows landing. Someone’s lit phone fell from their hand, scattering chaotic light. The faces of panicked people flashed past like ghosts.
Of course, there were attempts to calm the situation. I could hear the uncle and the women’s association president shouting urgently.
“What? Who—don’t tell me it was you?”
“No! Everyone, please calm down! If we do this—”
“Stop! No, this is—”
And then gunshots rang out again. Bang-bang-bang-bang-bang—continuous fire, like someone emptying a magazine. Not me. Someone else.
Of course. I’m not the only one with a gun!
I ducked in shock. It must have been someone who had attacked the police and obtained a firearm, now panicking and spraying bullets. The situation was now beyond control. Darkness. Successive gunshots. Screams echoing through the apartment complex. The sound of ragged breathing right beside my ears. If you were caught in that crush, bodies would collide and blades would graze you—there was no way to stay sane.
Whoa, this is scary. I should run.
Trembling with fear, I moved in the opposite direction from the neighborhood people. Instead of charging toward the apartment residents who had surrounded us, I slipped quietly into the management office. An escape. Throwing myself into that chaos would only put me in danger. It was better to cross the office and slip out through the loosely guarded rear. I slid the window open and climbed over the sill. There were people here too, but they were waving their phone lights in confusion, completely flustered.
“A gun? What’s going on?”
“112—no, wait.”
I quickly found a direction with fewer people and sprinted. Those who spotted me reflexively gripped their weapons, but I stretched both arms out in surrender and shouted.
“I surrender! Please don’t shoot!”
“Over there—what’s happening—”
Hands reached out to grab me, but I twisted my body to dodge and kept running straight toward the villas. I slipped away smoothly, my steps light. Behind me, screams echoed faintly. A world where people killed each other over a single bag of food. A world where competition between humans meant someone had to die. A world without compromise or consideration. The apocalypse.
It was truly the apocalypse. A ruthless world. A world that would bite the moment it saw an opening. Exhausted, I returned to the villas and doubted my ears. I stared blankly at Jeon Dohyeong and Park Yanggun. Jeon Dohyeong stood with his chest puffed out like he had done a good deed, then shrank back when he met my eyes. Park Yanggun waved his hand as if it couldn’t be helped.
“We couldn’t do what you asked. We were too busy defending the villas. Word got around that the streets were empty, so all kinds of thieves showed up.”
Apparently, other people had the same idea I did—trying to take advantage of the empty streets. So they had been busy protecting Peace Villa. In reality, the number of bodies in the second-floor storage room had increased. Jeon Dohyeong avoided my gaze and muttered.
“Still, we tried to do something. Somehow we ended up fighting off the remaining people and the thieves together.”
Even this guy had apparently fought off thieves alongside the old men and children left in Villa Street.
“No, no.”
I was at a loss for words. This wasn’t marauding. It was a vigilante group. They were the ones defending the streets. After opening and closing my mouth for a long while, I nodded.
“I suppose that’s possible too.”
Still, we had caused a conflict. The apartment people and the neighborhood people had fought, so half the plan had succeeded. Protecting our own resources was important too.
Just then, a heavy knock sounded.
Thud-thud-thud—
The uncle’s weary voice followed.
“Peace Villa kid. You made it out?”
“Yes. Are you hurt anywhere?”
I opened the door and greeted him. The uncle said he had been going around checking on everyone’s condition, then suddenly lowered his head.
“I’m fine, but it looks like a lot of other people got hurt. I didn’t know the apartment bastards had guns. I especially didn’t expect them to shoot at us… I was wrong.”
His voice was a complicated mix of regret, resolve, and murderous intent. He lifted his head and met my eyes. His gaze looked hollow, like someone who had been through war, yet also seemed stained red with killing intent.
“I was too stupid. I thought your suggestion was too vicious, but it wasn’t.”
“Uh…”
Was it not political maneuvering after all? Had he really been horrified by my actual proposal? I couldn’t find the words, but the uncle muttered while looking down at his blood-stained steel pipe.
“Avoiding bloodshed, prioritizing negotiation, thinking that just raising our voices together would be enough… That wasn’t it. We should have been thinking about killing.”
“I suppose so.”
“Anyway, since you made it out, that’s enough. If you’re alive, you can do better next time.”
With that, the uncle walked away wearily. He said he was going to check on the other Villa Street residents. I tilted my head, not quite understanding what he meant by doing better next time, but a few days later I discovered proof that the uncle had grown.
A body hung from a roadside tree on Villa Street. A sign was tied to the corpse’s chest, and on it was written:
Informant.