The Electric Thief
The silence hung heavy. The electric thief’s eyes darted wildly as he stared at me, and I met his gaze without a sound. Killing two people or three made no difference. Perhaps the brake had already snapped the day I killed someone by accident. “Worn out” might have been the more accurate description.
The thief’s face flickered with hesitation as his gaze jumped between me, the axe, and the camper. Fear. Anger. Resolve. I watched every shift without blinking. That was why, the instant his expression hardened with decision and he began to back away, I spoke first.
“Thinking of running? Don’t. I’ll bury the axe in your back.”
I mimed the motion—unbuckling the sheath, swinging the axe. If he turned his back, I would have all the time I needed. I still had the hammer, too.
Under the dark sky, the pale glow of the streetlamp touched the thief’s face. Trembling, he bent at the waist and carefully set the smartphone—new by the look of it—on the concrete.
“Good. Now kick it over here.”
The thief clenched his teeth and kicked. The phone skidded roughly and disappeared beneath the camper. I frowned.
“Trying something clever, are we?”
The moment I crouched to retrieve it, he would strike. That much was obvious.
“No, that’s not—”
The thief shook his head frantically, but I wasn’t fooled. This was only the fifth day since the zombie outbreak. He had survived just as long as I had. Underestimating him would be a mistake. Besides, he was already a criminal stealing electricity from public property. His sense of morality was clearly as broken as mine.
How to handle him without getting hurt…
I thought for a moment, then chose the simplest option.
“Get in. Take out all the camping gear.”
I stepped aside from the door and pointed the axe inside the camper. To be safe, I pushed the axe further in so he couldn’t slam the door on me.
The thief approached slowly, eyes flicking sideways at both me and the axe. For a brief second, hostility flashed across his face. My hand slipped into my hoodie pocket and closed around the hammer. If he lunged, I would swing it. Though at this range, the hammer might not be the most efficient choice.
Luckily, he didn’t attack. He climbed inside and asked, “What should I start with?”
“The pot.”
I jerked my chin. The thief lifted a large pot with some brand name stamped on it. A clattering sound came from inside—nested pots, probably. Then, lips pressed tight, he suddenly hurled it at me.
“Screw you!”
The pot flew. I had been ready; I raised my arm to block it. It was light and didn’t hurt, but I screamed anyway, collapsing dramatically while making sure the axe stayed hooked inside the camper.
“Some filthy vagrant—”
The door slid shut but caught on the axe handle. Inside, I heard frantic scrambling. Calmly, I twisted the axe like a lever, prying the door open, then shoved it wider. Beyond the doorway, chairs and gear had been stacked into a makeshift barricade. The thief was already scrambling over the sink toward the driver’s seat, limbs flailing.
Of course it wouldn’t be easy. If the axe hadn’t caught, I would have lost him. He really was a professional at stealing the nation’s electricity—modern-day bandit, nothing less.
I kicked the chairs aside and climbed in. The axe sheath tore open with a sharp rip. I raised the blade and pressed the edge against the thief’s throat as he sat frozen in the driver’s seat.
“A-ah…”
The thief’s breath came in ragged gasps. He swallowed hard; his Adam’s apple brushed the blade, leaving a thin red line that welled with blood.
“P-please, spare me. I won’t report you. Money? Do you need money? I have money.”
I laughed softly. Money? What use was money once the apocalypse arrived? Slowly, I dragged the axe upward. The edge traced from his throat to his cheek, then to his forehead. The thief’s eyes followed the blade, his breathing frantic, like someone hyperventilating after a sprint.
“Phone unlock pattern.”
“It’s fingerprint, but I can change it to a pattern if you—”
Meaning he only needed his fingers intact. I didn’t need to hear anything else. I pulled the axe tighter, pinning his head. His gaze locked on the blade. Now was the moment. The perfect chance to kill him without resistance.
My other hand drew the hammer and gripped it tight. One swing from the opposite side of the axe and it would be clean. Cleanup would be simple too—stuff a plastic bag over the crushed skull, cinch it with the charger cable around his neck. The blood wouldn’t spill.
“Please, please…”
Tears welled in the thief’s eyes and spilled over. Fake tears. I was only a murderer, a jailbreaker, a bicycle thief, a blackmailer—someone who had committed crimes against ordinary people. But this man stole electricity from the entire country. A hardened criminal. Someone with that kind of nerve wouldn’t break down over something this small. The stunt with the phone earlier proved it. He was a professional.
I slowly raised the hammer… then, after a moment’s thought, lowered it and hid it again.
“Throw the car keys on the passenger floor. Unlock the phone.”
“Yes…!”
“Then get inside the sleeping bag.”
He still had value alive.
***
“How long until it’s done charging?”
I had no idea how long electric vehicles took to charge. I tapped my foot restlessly in the driver’s seat. The sooner I could leave this place, the better. If I fled in someone else’s car, the police would never find me.
A voice came from behind—the electric thief’s.
“You can leave now! There’s plenty of battery left!”
I glanced back. In the space I had rearranged, a single caterpillar lay on the floor—an electric thief cocooned inside a sleeping bag. I had wrapped several layers of camping rope around it and tied his hands as well. He couldn’t escape on his own. His complexion looked decent enough, though his eyes still gleamed with cunning, searching for any chance to slip free.
I put myself in his position and wrote the scenario: criminal, kidnapped, escape. He’s probably planning to scream the moment we reach a crowded area. Or beg passersby for help while I’m away. That was easy enough to solve—just blast music loud enough to drown everything out.
“How do you play music in this thing?”
“That’s…”
When I raised the axe, the thief explained quickly. I nodded, stepped out to unplug the charger, and kept the cable. Even after the apocalypse, sturdy cord would still have value. I climbed back into the driver’s seat, gripped the wheel, then stopped.
There was a problem. A very big problem.
I forced an awkward smile and asked hesitantly, “So… which one’s the accelerator again?”
I had a license, but I had never actually driven. Nothing about it remained in my memory.
The thief’s eyes widened in horror. “No, don’t! Don’t drive! Let me—”
“Right. I’ll figure it out by pressing things.”
“Aaaagh! Stop! Do you know how much this camper costs?! Don’t! Stop!”
He was overreacting. I grinned and turned the music up as loud as it would go. A cheerful travel song blasted through the speakers, swallowing every other sound. Perfect. I pressed whichever pedal felt right.
The public restroom entrance rushed closer. We slammed straight into it. The crash was silent beneath the music—only the camper lurched violently.
“This one’s the accelerator. Straight ahead. Got it.”
I laughed loudly, hummed along to the song, shifted gears, and backed out. Screams echoed from the back, but I paid them no mind. With that, I cheerfully drove out of the mountains.
Fifth day since the zombie outbreak. I had acquired a camper and a phone, spoken to another human being, and returned from a primitive mountain dweller to a civilized city resident.
***
Sixth day since the zombie outbreak. The world was collapsing smoothly.
***
An empty stretch of highway on the city outskirts. I parked on the shoulder and slept deeply. After washing up with the camper’s water, I opened a lunchbox and ate. The electric thief had bought it for his camping trip—some kind of military-ration-style bibimbap.
Tastes good. After days of nothing but chocolate bars and cereal in the mountains, real food lifted my mood considerably. Tension eased; the feeling of fullness made my mind pleasantly loose.
“Hey, I’m hungry too.”
I glanced down. The thief, still trapped in the sleeping bag, wore a pitiful expression. I shook my head.
“People can go three weeks without food.”
The rule of threes, or whatever it was called. Three minutes without air, three hours without warmth, three days without water, three weeks without food. By that logic, the thief didn’t need to eat. I, however, did. I scooped up a generous portion of bibimbap and shoveled it into my mouth.
“Keep talking while I eat.”
I wanted to know what had happened in the outside world while I had been hiding in the mountains.
“I’ll talk, so at least give me some water.”
The thief blinked desperately. I nodded. The camper supposedly held dozens of liters of water. A few sips wouldn’t hurt.
“Talk first.”
The thief’s eyes sparkled. “Where was I? Ah, the military. The army’s in chaos too. They say infected people appeared in training camps, and somewhere they shot the infected dead with rifles.”
“With guns?”
I set my spoon down. Guns. An army armed with guns. Maybe the apocalypse wasn’t coming after all. No matter how dangerous zombies were, they couldn’t stop tanks or fighter jets. My hands trembled. That would be unacceptable. I would lose far too much. The apocalypse had to come.
Fortunately, the thief eased my anxiety. He grumbled, “Insane, right? They’re calling them zombies, but they’re just sick people. The military’s shooting patients. Of course people are furious. Are they going to shoot coronavirus patients too? Are they going to execute citizens? Who’s next after the zombies?”
Good. The world was helping me. A world that still maintained the premise that zombies were people. Hope and optimism still reigned. I couldn’t suppress my smile.
“Besides, once a vaccine and treatment are developed, the zombies will recover anyway. The families of the infected and human rights groups are already pressuring the military hard.”
At this rate, the military wouldn’t be able to move freely. Instead, they would slowly lose strength as soldiers became infected. Tanks and jets still needed people to operate them—drivers, mechanics, logistics personnel. Once all of them turned into zombies, the future was obvious.
I smiled contentedly and resumed eating.
“Are there many infected in the military?”
“Probably. The incubation period is that long. Soldiers, non-commissioned officers, officers—none of them are safe. And it’s not just the military. Hospitals, government agencies—everything’s falling apart. Not enough quarantine space, not enough staff. They’re too busy treating people attacked by zombies.”
“What about the police?”
I asked casually.
“They say tasers can immobilize zombies, but the news makes it sound like they’re short on manpower and overworked…. Water, please.”
The thief’s voice was parched. I tilted a water bottle and poured slowly. Even as water streamed down his face, he focused only on drinking. After a moment, I asked my final question.
“Tell me about the zombies and the I-Virus.”
“There’s a lot of fake information…. Droplet transmission like COVID is confirmed, and blood-borne transmission is dangerous too. Some say even water might be risky. Waterborne? Is that the word?”
I clenched my fist. Such a dangerous virus. Such a powerful biological weapon. A disease capable of destroying the world. And the world really was ending. The face of Immortal Company’s chairman flashed through my mind.
As expected of our chairman!
No wonder he had smiled even while being dragged away. He had been confident. I hadn’t been wrong. The apocalypse was coming after all.
I looked down at the electric thief. A dilemma had arisen.
…
A marauder needed a group. Alone, he was no marauder—just a wanderer or survivor. Prey, not hunter. The thief’s face turned pale under my gaze. He seemed to realize his usefulness had been exhausted.
“P-please don’t kill me. Please.”
Honestly, he was decent material. A morality as broken as mine, the nerve to steal from the state, the quick thinking he had shown when cornered. He had the qualifications to become an apocalypse marauder. Not quite on the level of the lockpick thief or the deserter with guns and ammo I had originally considered recruiting, but still.