What Do Humans Eat to Survive?
I didn't log into the Maelmang Gallery today. Instead, I went a bit farther out for the first time in a while. There were things I needed to check on, and I wanted to clear my head. My mood had been all over the place lately because of everything going on.
As I was walking, I ran into something strange.
It's a person.
A man was standing right in the middle of the street. That alone wouldn't be unusual. The problem was the backdrop. Zombies were charging straight at him. But for some reason, he didn't budge. It wasn't like he hadn't noticed them. He was staring right at them head-on. And yet, he just stood there helplessly.
No weapon in his hands, either.
Was he just trying to die? But that didn't make sense. Suicides weren't rare, sure. But choosing that method?
Getting torn apart by zombies. Kinda hardcore for a new suicide trend.
I couldn't help but feel a flicker of curiosity about why he'd pick that way to go. I strode right up and cleaved the oncoming zombies in half with my axe. Even as I was smashing them, the man just stood there in a daze.
"You okay?"
Only when I spoke did he snap out of it a little. He turned to me and opened his mouth.
"Why'd you do that?"
"Huh?"
"Why save me? A guy like me should've just been left to die."
I scratched my cheek. Fair point—it might've been a nuisance to him.
After a moment's thought, I asked, "Want me to kill you?"
"Huh?"
"I can make it quick and painless. Nice clean slice."
He looked like he had no idea what I was saying. Just stared at me blankly. The awkward silence stretched on, so I pulled two canned coffees from my backpack.
"You seemed like you were trying to die. Let's hear what happened."
"......It's not really something to tell another person."
"I'm curious."
He stared at the canned coffee for a bit, then nodded. We sat on a nearby bench. Zombie corpses were scattered everywhere, but neither of us cared. I cracked mine open, and he followed suit, glancing at me first.
"Gah!"
He took a sip and let out a sigh of admiration. On the second sip, tears welled up in his eyes.
"......I never knew Lotte Chilsung was this good."
"You never appreciate it till it's gone."
We sat there quietly draining our cans. Maybe he figured he owed me for the coffee. After a while, he spoke first.
"I killed people."
"How many?"
"Two.... No, three."
Not many. I didn't say it out loud. Even among murders, the weight varies. If he was willing to let zombies rip him apart, it must've been heavier than his conscience could bear.
"......I never meant to kill them."
"That's what everyone says in court."
"I'm serious."
He hung his head low as he spoke.
"I used to work in customer management at a small company. Which really just meant taking shit from complainers."
"Tough job."
"Then the apocalypse hit out of nowhere. I went to work, and the whole building was gone. No savings, world in ruins. I was lost."
"Everyone was at first."
Things were a little better now. More people adapting. Though that probably meant more dying too.
"Even thugs came banging on my door. Had to flee my place—my only home. Not that it was really mine."
He gave a hollow laugh, like he'd swallowed something bitter.
"So I begged, scavenged abandoned houses for food. Sometimes got handouts from volunteer groups. Come to think of it, those are gone now too."
"......Yeah."
"I tried to hold on, but it was reaching the limit. Most places were already picked clean. Went days without eating."
He clamped his mouth shut there. Looked like the real story was about to start.
"Never knew real hunger before. Even starving, I could always scrape up ramen money. But actually starving? Drives you insane."
He was squeezing the words out. Probably still starving now.
"My mind started slipping. Thought about eating my own flesh. Shoved random weeds in my mouth and got sick."
"Hmm."
"Walking along like that.... Damn it. This couple.... They were eating roasted sweet potatoes."
He bit his lip hard.
"Never even liked them that much before. But they looked so good. That sweet smell, the shape.... I'd have done anything for one. My reason just shut down."
"So you killed them?"
"I didn't mean to."
He rubbed his dry face, repeating himself.
"Just thought I'd threaten them. After days of starving, I had no strength anyway. Grab the potatoes and run. Figured scaring them like a thug with a weapon would be easy."
No easy marks in this world. You don't survive without snarling. Even kids hide weapons now.
"The guy pulls a knife outta nowhere. I swung in shock.... Hit him square in the head."
"......"
"He drops, wife freaks and lunges at me. I fall too, we tangle, and she cracks her head on a rock. Turns out people die easier than you think."
Most murders are accidents. Rage and survival instinct—they give you unnatural strength.
"Shaking, I grab the potatoes and stand. Then I see this girl crying in the corner. Still remember that moment. Our teary eyes met, and my blood ran cold. Dropped the weapon and bolted."
"Hmm."
"Lost my mind after that. Went back later. The girl was getting torn apart by some huge zombie.... No, a monster I'd never seen. Should've run, but she couldn't leave her parents' bodies."
She probably would've died anyway. Adults starve in this world. It's harshest on the weak.
"Can't forget it. Her eyes wide open as it ate her, the monster sauntering off satisfied."
"......"
"......No excuses. That couple, the kid—all my fault."
"Yeah."
"Wanna know the most pathetic part?"
He laughed like a maniac.
"Those stolen sweet potatoes? Best thing I ever tasted. So good I bawled eating them."
"......"
"Lived my whole life without hurting anyone. But if it happened again.... I'd steal them. I'm trash."
That was why he wanted to die. Like the girl devoured by zombies. Same fate for him.
Having spilled it all, he looked at me.
"......You're not mad?"
"Should I be? Why?"
"I killed people. Innocent ones—even a kid."
I smirked. Typical good-guy thinking. Clinging to the illusion of conscience in this world. Maybe that's how they cope.
"Killers existed before the world went to shit too."
"Well.... Yeah."
"You gonna kill every one you see? How do you even live like that?"
"That's different from now."
"Not to me."
I've seen the world's filth. Get mad at it all? No chaebol or politician would be left.
"Sure, trash pisses me off, and I kill it sometimes. But you're.... ambiguous."
Wish bad guys were clearer cut. Humans are too nuanced. Makes it harder.
"If I gotta add something, why not just live?"
I rummaged in my backpack and handed him food: chocolate bars, a few cans, candy.
"Wh-what's this?"
"Last longer than one sweet potato. Try surviving a bit more."
Drool practically dripped from his mouth. But he couldn't reach out.
"For a guy like me?"
"Better than fattening up zombies."
"Atonement?"
"What bullshit is that?"
I said coldly, "You killed a family. Nothing you do atones. It's just self-satisfaction."
"Then why give me this chance...."
"People help people without needing a reason."
I'm rotten too. Spouting crap I don't even believe.
"Whatever life you live now is up to you. I just did a small favor."
I stood. He said nothing. We parted, and I never saw him again.
I heard about the man a while later. More like, I saw it.
A young couple, faces tense, clutching the food I'd given him.
"Mind if we talk a sec?"
I called them out. Maybe my stiff expression? Or the axe? They froze solid.
"Wh-what?"
"Where'd you get that?"
"Wh-why? What's it to you?"
"Not gonna rob you. Just answer."
They hesitated. I stepped forward.
"Did you kill someone for it?"
"N-no! We got it! Never stolen!"
"Got it?"
"Y-yeah, some old guy...."
The woman trailed off; the man jumped in.
"He handed it to us. Asked why, and he said he was avenging some monster."
"......"
I wandered a bit more after that. Found a body. Right beside it, a ghoul with a knife in its back, groaning from wounds.
......Won't bring the dead kid back.
Why this sudden choice? I think I knew. He couldn't forget the girl and the monster haunting him.
"......Since we crossed paths, might as well finish it."
I approached the ghoul with my axe. The wounded thing went down easy. I looked at the fallen man one last time.
......Skin and bones.
Humans need something to eat to live. What that something is—they decide. Food, hope, conscience.
And when it runs out, people die.
That was the story.
"There. Belly full now?"
I slipped a chocolate bar into his shirt pocket. Knowing full well it wouldn't sate his hunger.