The Army's True Colors
The house felt different with the military back. In the blackout-darkened room, I sat in my chair and stared into the empty air. The sudden appearance of the army left my thoughts in disarray. Tap-tap-tap-tap. My fingers drummed rapidly against the desk. First, assume the worst.
Their approach reeked of suspicion even without words. They claimed they were reaching out to neighbors to avoid unnecessary risks. But the opposite reading was just as plausible: if no one resisted violently, they would absorb survivors and evolve into a warlord faction. The army was already laying groundwork—distributing food to build goodwill, promising to clear out zombies, advertising long-term visions like farming. Wasn't this all just preliminary work?
"There are similar cases among my role models," I muttered. Vigilante groups formed to fight drug cartels sometimes became new cartels themselves. This army could follow the same path. Even if they started with slogans about citizen safety and trustworthy neighbors, corruption could take hold at any moment. The police had already turned into a gang—what made the military any different?
The soldier's face surfaced in my mind. Even if his mind was unstable, he looked well-fed. A group that had simply burned through remaining supplies, whose numbers had dwindled on their own, sparing them real hunger. They had never truly felt the apocalypse—the kind where you had to kill people just to eat. What would they do once food ran low? Would they turn vicious like the survivors on the streets?
Once I put on the glasses of suspicion, everything looked questionable. I slowly replayed the company commander's words. The roads are blocked… What about the sky? Helicopters or transport planes? They can't be completely out of pilots. He hadn't been entirely honest. He had wrapped himself in lies. A four-character idiom came to mind: seonjaburae naejabuseon. The good do not come; those who come are not good. An army that had deliberately sought out the city center was clearly not benevolent.
My head cleared. Right. An army that only moved now must have a purpose. And that purpose was simple: dwindling food supplies. Resources from the commercial districts. Manpower for farming. A desperate struggle to survive. Once I stripped away the military packaging, the picture became brutally clear. Another survivor faction fighting over the city's resources—one with overwhelming firepower and the capacity to expand. Groups like that were…
"Better off nonexistent."
Click. My fingers stopped. I slowly clenched my fist. This wasn't just any faction. It was the military. Joining them was out of the question. Re-enlist? Put the uniform back on? Nonsense. If I were going to do that, I might as well have gone to prison. Living under their control—laboring, receiving rations, being ordered around—was worse than what I had now. The freedom to scavenge, to live small and predatory. I smiled and began drafting scenarios in my head. Ways to harass the army. Attack their infrastructure. Waste their resources by dumping zombies and survivors on them. Pit soldiers against civilians. Ruin their reputation. Just as they were preparing the ground, so would I.
The first step was apocalyptic prophecy. A doomsday theory that would become truth the moment the army made a single mistake. I twisted the Book of Revelation and crafted a narrative to frame them. The White Horseman of Plague had spread the I-Virus, and now the Red Horseman of War had arrived with guns. When summer came, the Black Horseman of Famine would rise from the broken sewers, flooding the streets and destroying every farm and resource, leaving only starvation. This army wasn't just killing people with bullets—they had come to seize the city's resources to hasten the famine. It was prophecy in name only, a metaphorical warning not to trust the military.
I kept writing against the darkness. Even if the army worked hard to clear zombies, how would people react when they saw the soldiers hauling away every last resource from the supermarkets? What if an accident happened? What if soldiers killed survivors? What if photos spread of starving, infected soldiers? The army was powerful. I would work from the shadows.
—A New Age Apocalypse! The I-Virus, the Army, and Famine!
A recruitment notice. A plausible doomsday theory stitched together with an advertisement claiming to be the army while actually recruiting people. Fake information I had sent through the city's messengers. Anyone who showed up expecting safe housing and abundant food would be turned away by the military—or, even if accepted, would grow resentful when the promised rations proved far smaller than advertised. An accidental discharge would be even better.
"…"
I grinned and turned my attention back to daily life. Maybe because I had done something rotten in secret, even simple labor felt enjoyable.
Thud!
"What kind of trash is this?"
The drainage ditch with its wire mesh torn away was packed with leaves, dirt, cigarette butts, insects, and every kind of refuse. I silently scooped it out with gloved hands and tongs.
"Ugh. I've never done this kind of work before. It's really disgusting. I've only ever done easy jobs, so I can't handle this."
Sa Gihyeok, working beside me, recoiled with a grimace. I glanced at him.
"We need to prepare for the heavy rains in summer."
"The monsoon is still a long way off. Can't we take it slow?"
He really didn't want to do it. Of course, his opinion didn't matter. Who knew when or how much it would rain? With the government gone, natural disasters were true catastrophes, and no amount of preparation was excessive. I spoke playfully to my criminal colleague.
"Then how about becoming a scarecrow?"
"…That was a joke, right? Please tell me it was a joke."
"It was a joke."
No point wasting valuable manpower on scarecrows. They were made from corpses, not by turning living people into corpses. I'd rather turn someone into a zombie and use them as a Virus Generator. Sa Gihyeok gave me a suspicious look.
"I can't tell if you're serious or joking…"
"More importantly, you really never served in the military?"
"No, I didn't."
He really hadn't gone? That lowered his utility. I had been hoping to use him to get close to the army, but that seemed unlikely now. I couldn't exactly ask Park Yanggun to steal firearms either. For now, I'll just play small tricks. Slowly chip away at trust and faith.
As we cleaned the drainage, heavy footsteps echoed faintly in the distance. Thud-thud-thud-thud. Loud voices, too. The sound of many people moving.
"What is that?"
Sa Gihyeok and I carefully left Villa Street and spotted soldiers marching down a nearby road. They wore full combat gear—rifles, ammunition belts, gas masks, ballistic helmets—and moved in formation. Curiosity drew us closer.
"Wow. That's impressive. Since I never served, seeing that kind of thing looks strangely cool."
Sa Gihyeok's nonsense made the passing soldiers shoot us irritated glances. Clearly, he and the military didn't mix. I quickly scanned for a non-commissioned officer or the company commander I had seen before. His eyes were tense.
"Heading out to clear zombies?"
This didn't feel like food distribution or market-building. It reminded me of the atmosphere in the military during emergencies—like a North Korean provocation—when they were facing real combat. I approached the company commander casually. Whether because they hadn't been attacked like the police or because they trusted their own strength, they didn't seem overly wary of survivors like me.
"Ah, the one I saw last time."
What? I hadn't said a single word back then. Why did he remember me? Was it a subtle threat that they already had civilian information?
I kept my expression neutral and asked like a curious citizen. "Yes, hello. I was wondering where you're headed."
The company commander slowed his pace, gestured for the others to go ahead, and adjusted his rifle sling. "We promised to clear out zombies, didn't we? We're planning to hit the supermarket first."
Attacking a large supermarket? I studied his face. He looked sleep-deprived. I couldn't tell if they were desperate from resource shortages or simply putting on a show for publicity.
"I see. You're working hard. Did you have to march because the roads are blocked?"
"Yes. Civilians had set up obstacles, so we couldn't clear everything. We only used transport vehicles as far as we could, then walked the rest of the way."
The commander sighed heavily, as if exhausted, and fiddled with his rifle. After a moment of hesitation, he asked carefully, "Have you fought zombies before?"
"Zombies…"
I searched my memory. Had I fought zombies? I had far more experience fighting people. Right—the Hope Church. We had bravely defended against the wave. There had been a few smaller fights too.
"Of course…"
Soldiers were still passing by. I deliberately raised my voice and lowered my head. "Zombies used to be people. I killed them to survive, but… they were someone's father, mother, son, daughter, friend."
Lie, damn you. I poured out the words like a curse, and the soldiers' and commander's faces darkened instantly.
"I met a mother once. She was wandering around looking for her zombified son. What if the zombie I killed was her child? I just… felt…"
"No, it's fine. More importantly, is there anything we should be careful about when fighting zombies?"
The commander quickly changed the subject after I delivered what sounded like heartfelt truth. "We've done our own research and gathered information, but it still feels insufficient. Do you have any know-how?"
"Well, the best option is not fighting at all."
That was the truth. Fighting zombies wasn't ideal. If you had to fight, you had to wipe them out completely so they couldn't learn from the experience. I glanced around. I saw a few soldiers sweating as they carried a heavy machine gun together, but nothing else.
"No artillery or tanks?"
"Can't use them. The equipment is fine, but if we destroy buildings, we bury the resources inside too. We're forced into infantry combat without artillery support."
Made sense. What was the point of shelling a supermarket into rubble if the food got buried with it? I suddenly thought of rock-paper-scissors. Soldiers with overwhelming firepower that could erase civilians. Zombies forcing an environment disadvantageous to soldiers. Civilians surviving by overcoming zombies.
Around that time, the company commander turned away. "We'll be going now. Thank you for the conversation."
"Yes…"
He walked quickly and rejoined the column of soldiers. I followed slowly after him.
"Sa Gihyeok, let's go watch."
"Sounds good. I've never seen the military fight before."
Neither had I. Real combat. The soldiers and officers were probably experiencing it for the first time too.
***
A lot of people had come to watch. Various survivors had gathered on the street with a view of the supermarket. The Police Chief looked tense as he watched the properly armed soldiers, while others' eyes gleamed with different emotions. I approached him. The Police Chief, who had been pressing a pair of binoculars to his eyes, glanced at me and waved dismissively.
"Villa Street. Come to watch?"
"Yeah. It's close, isn't it? Why the binoculars?"
"You have to watch even the small details. Looks like they've set up a command post over there. I see civilian collaborators too. Probably going to use drones."
A voice spoke up then. "We provided those. We lent them drones in exchange for charging."
It was the Electricity Nomad I had seen once before. He seemed to have moved again in search of electricity and was looking for opportunities to obtain it here as well.
"We have one more drone here. Want to use it? You just need to let us charge it later."
"Can we see the feed directly?"
"Yes. You can watch it on a laptop."
I had only intended to gauge the atmosphere from afar, but an unexpected chance to observe the scene had appeared. Everyone nodded with curiosity, and the Electricity Nomad quickly began operating phones, laptops, and various devices.
"If the drone gets damaged by gunfire, you'll have to compensate us."
"How much food are you thinking?"
"No. Food is fine. Just let us charge the electricity."
A robot? Did he live on electricity? It was the first time I'd met someone so obsessed with power that the thought crossed my mind. Thanks to him, we could spy on the battlefield.
The soldiers spent a long time setting up machine guns at the supermarket entrance and scouting with drones before finally moving in. The company entered the store wearing gas masks.
"I'll send it up."
The drone took off. A clear image appeared on the laptop. Following the Electricity Nomad's slow manipulations, the drone approached the supermarket, crossed through a broken window, and entered.
"…It's a grinder."
We couldn't hear the sound, but the camera provided a vivid view. The swarming zombies were simply shredded. The firepower was on a completely different level from pistols. There was no need to even bring in machine guns. When the infantry had to retreat to the entrance to reload after emptying their magazines, the zombies pouring out were torn apart by the waiting machine guns.
The Police Chief laughed heartily. "That's right. Waste it all. Looks like their supplies aren't coming in properly. If they use up all their bullets on zombies, they'll become scarecrows too."
His cheerful voice was drowned out by the loud gunfire echoing from the scene. The battlefield was slowly changing. Zombies began fleeing away from the entrance or retreating upstairs. No more zombies approached the entrance. Eventually, the infantry followed the zombies upward, and casualties began to occur. The faces of those watching the screen hardened. Zombies that had been playing dead among the corpses suddenly rose and buried axes in soldiers' necks from behind. They chased after squads that had emptied their magazines. Sometimes, lively child zombies approached, and soldiers couldn't bring themselves to shoot. There were also friendly fire incidents—soldiers shooting their own squadmates.
…The army isn't as effective as I thought.
There weren't many soldiers left to begin with. Ammunition would also be limited. No matter how I looked at it, they couldn't retake the city. They couldn't even deal with all the zombies. I shifted my gaze into the distance. The command post. If this was the situation, wouldn't they target survivors, who were easier to deal with than zombies? Intimidation or persuasion would work on them.
As expected, they're the enemy.