Chapter 6
Chapter 6
Chapter 6. If You Gather, You Die
‘I’m so fucked...’
I lunged forward reflexively toward the front.
Clang!
The chunk of metal that had aimed for my skull smashed the innocent ground instead.
“Aaah!”
The one who'd attacked me let out a short scream as if he'd twisted his wrist.
When I turned around, five dark shadows filled my view.
“Whoa, how did you open the door!”
“Who the hell are you!”
“You bastard, what the hell are you!”
No, these people… Who are they to be angry now? No matter how rough the world is, you don't go straight for someone’s skull without even looking at their face.
At least when you open the roof hatch you could make a sound, y’know, like you pulled the handle.
“First, put your weapons down and let's talk.”
I slowly stepped back to avoid provoking them and assessed their builds, appearances, and gear.
First, two men who looked over fifty.
Damn, one of them is going bald. It doesn't affect combat ability, but it hurts my heart.
Then a shabby-looking man in his forties. And finally two guys who didn’t look too good. One of the two who swung the rebar at me looked like a thug.
“You bastard, what the hell are you?”
The thug standing behind the one with the rebar glared and asked.
Judging by physique and vibe, this one was the boss and the rebar-swinger his underling.
Thug 1 had a shiny golf club in his hand.
Long reach, sturdy material, it looked tempting.
‘Useful...’
Reach matters for weapons.
A nightstick is too short.
“You hear me, asshole?”
Maybe he noticed me looking at the golf club; thug 1 raised it with a menacing expression.
“I’m a cop.”
“A cop?”
“You a cop?”
At the two words “cop,” their faces brightened all at once.
People can call cops names when things are normal, but when this kind of situation happens, they’ll look to cops first.
“Why are you dressed like that?”
Thug 1 scanned me suspiciously and asked.
“I was off duty, but a mess broke out so I linked up with my junior and we headed here.”
I said that and pulled out the pistol and Hwang’s ID.
I’d prepared for this.
“Hey, what the hell?!”
When I pulled out the gun, thug 1 flinched and stepped back.
“Oh, I don’t intend to shoot. I just pulled it out so you’d trust me.”
Of course, the gun wasn't purely for that.
If anyone swung a weapon one more time, the implied warning was that I'd put lead in their head.
Actually, there were no bullets.
“Do off-duty cops carry firearms?”
Thug 1, his momentum slightly broken, watched me and asked.
Because of his job he seemed to know a lot about cops. But I’m not the type to be beaten on that point.
“Oh, that’s my junior’s weapon. I borrowed it to break through the crowd.”
At the phrase “break through the crowd,” Plump-Face cautiously began to speak.
“Boss Park, I-I saw it earlier. I saw this guy get out of a police car.”
“So he got out of the car, came this far and fought those monsters so the car could pass? That’s amazing...”
The shabby-dressed man looked at me up and down with a bit of admiration.
I knew what he expected.
You’re a cop, you have a gun, so get rid of those monsters, right?
“Then you saw me come into this building and instead of opening the roof hatch you attacked me?”
I frowned and asked, and thug 1 gave an embarrassed cough.
“Uh, we didn’t see that. We just thought a monster broke through the door and climbed up.”
That shameless excuse made irritation bubble up.
‘Are you calling that an excuse?’
I could tolerate watching me fight zombies. Who’d run downstairs to save someone in this situation?
But opening the rooftop hatch and then pretending nothing happened while trying to smash my skull, that was a step too far.
‘Stay calm, stay calm.’
But right now I didn't want to waste time arguing with these people.
I had important things to do.
I needed to scout a place that could serve as a base camp quickly.
“First, everyone, keep your distance.”
I stopped arguing and issued orders quickly because one of them might already be infected.
I was also impersonating a cop because I knew how much weight the words of a police officer carry in situations like this.
And with a gun in hand, communication becomes even more peaceful.
“Eh? Why?”
The shabby man questioned but obediently began to put distance between himself and the others.
“There might be people among you who suddenly turn into creatures like those.”
“What?”
“What are you talking about?”
“People nearby are showing strange symptoms and turning violent. It's not confirmed, but it might be a chemical weapon attack.”
I made up a plausible lie to get them to separate.
Telling them the truth like I did with Hwang's case wouldn’t help.
Chemical weapons are a more believable story for modern people than zombies or system alerts.
“Chemical weapon? Like poison gas and stuff?”
“Maybe a new weapon that affects the brain and makes people attack others. The unrest isn’t just here; it’s nationwide—”
“What, so you’re saying it’s those reds who sprayed poison? That’s why reds should all be beaten to death! What’s with reunification!”
Just then, the bald man who’d been silently listening cut in with a scowl.
Hmm, no one said who did it, but the pain of division gives that idea some persuasive power?
“No one knows who did it yet.”
“Whoever did it, of course it’s those reds! This is why we should kill them all! Reunification my ass!”
Geez, grandpa’s blood pressure is rising.
Why bring that up here, though?
Anyway, there were too many debatable statements, so I cut it off.
“Anyway, someone here might suddenly attack the person next to them, so step back for now.”
The gathered people eyed each other and began to create distance.
They trusted the cop’s words.
Then thug 2 blocked me.
“Is that real? There was nothing about that in the news.”
He looked stupid, but he apparently checked the news on his smartphone as he evacuated.
‘Good, communications still work for now.’
Of course, soon the networks and power would go out.
I was telling these people this so they’d run around spreading the story later.
Humans have a tendency to cluster during disasters. But in this case, that instinct would bring death.
“Then you mean I came all the way through the monsters just to lie to you?”
My sharp retort silenced thug 2.
“So what do we do now?”
The shabby man asked anxiously.
“Please wait. I need to assess the situation first.”
I moved naturally to the railing as I said that.
A strange atmosphere passed over the rooftop at once. They were clearly scared at the thought that one of them might suddenly go berserk.
“Boss Park, put that golf club down.”
The bald man swallowed hard and said.
Not long ago that golf club was their best weapon. Now it looked like an instrument that could smash his own skull.
“Fuck, ask me to put it down now when we don't know who might snap?”
Thug 1 showed no sign of lowering his weapon. Whether he did or not, I scanned below to memorize the terrain and surroundings.
I was both scouting for a base camp and looking for somewhere to get food.
‘Ideally somewhere without many people, good wind and weather protection, decent insulation, and with high ceilings.’
High ceilings are good, but it's hard to find a place that also likely has few zombies. Also it'd be great if there are stores nearby for food and supplies.
The problem is such places aren’t that common.
‘Huh?’
Then a perfect location entered my sight.
‘Found it!’
Whether my guess would be right, I’d see, but for now nothing looked better.
Having solved the most important problem, I moved on to the next.
“Can I borrow a pair of shoes?”
I couldn’t run well in these cheap slippers, and stepping on broken glass or shards could shred my feet.
With these people here, I should be able to get at least a pair.
“Shoes? Why?”
The bald old man asked.
I said I needed to go call in reinforcements and couldn’t run well in slippers.
The bald man looked down worriedly at his feet instead of answering.
Whatever he'd been doing, he too was wearing slippers.
“How many feet do you have?”
The shabby man looked at his shoes.
His were like work boots.
Those are the most desirable shoes here.
In an apocalypse, work boots or safety shoes are best, then sturdy walkers.
Dress shoes are terrible. Because a small wound can lead to death in this world.
“Tetanus from stepping on a rusty nail, or a foot injury from glass that reduces mobility and leaves you surrounded by zombies.”
“Seems about my size, try these on.”
The shabby man immediately took off his work boots and offered them.
“Thanks.”
I gratefully slipped my feet into the boots he handed me.
“Oh, they fit perfectly.”
Good. Literally like my own shoes.
Now I wouldn’t waste satiety unnecessarily.
“But will a gun and a nightstick be enough? You probably don’t have many bullets… still, some more weapons would be good—”
Then the bald man cautiously spoke up.
“What, are you forcibly trying to take it?”
Thug 1 tightened his grip on the golf club.
“Hey, Park, calm down. We’re not trying to take it.”
Honestly, I preferred the golf club to the nightstick, but I didn’t want to waste energy forcibly taking it from someone having a meltdown.
“Fuck, how am I supposed to believe that?”
Park burst into anger and assumed a stance like he was about to swing the club.
“Why are you staring so much, huh?”
His raised voice made the rooftop fall into an odd silence.
Everyone thought the same thing.
One by one, they began to take a step back.
“Park, why are you so worked up?”
“Maybe you’re hearing weird noises or something, right?”
“What do you mean? Then what do we do? You gonna kill us?”
Watching silently, I pulled the pistol out and aimed it at Park’s head.
“Park, calm down and put your weapon down.”