Chapter 48. Incheon Port.
Chapter 48. Incheon Port.
"Mr. Sihu, do you plan to head right back out this time too?"
"No, we need to get a handle on the Yongsan group and there's a fair amount of things to sort out here first."
"I was actually going to ask you to hold off on leaving for a bit. I wanted to print up some flyers and distribute them when we got back from Incheon Port."
"Understood. In that case, send me the roster for the Yongsan group if you've got it compiled."
"Yes, I've noted their occupations and specialties in detail, so it should be easy reading."
We started discussing how to approach Incheon Port and what to do once we were inside. Chaeyeon's father, who had worked in trade, contributed the most to the planning.
"When you get there, you'll find the Incheon Container Terminal. We should be able to set the helicopter down somewhere in that area."
"But is there enough space to land it there?"
"The grounds are massive, and the road leading up to the entrance is wide, so a landing there would work."
I glanced over at the old man and asked about the helicopter's weight capacity.
"Hm? Weight isn't the issue—it's the size of the containers. We can only move one at a time."
"Which means multiple round trips... you're going to have your work cut out for you."
We then called in the workers to discuss modifying the containers, and within minutes, they had gathered in the assembly hall.
"Sir, we heard you called for us."
I laid out the plan to convert containers into housing to prepare for the influx from the Yongsan Group and any additional survivors, and asked what materials they would need.
"Since we're in the countryside, most tools are kept in household sheds. The issue is things like steel doors, glass, and silicone. If we just had those, modifications would be plenty feasible."
"Does the modification process itself take long?"
"It would if you're thinking about design work, but if we're just going for simple habitability, it won't take long at all."
"Good. I'll try to source as much as I can, so write up a list of necessary materials and get it to me before we head out."
After asking about the detailed modification process and giving them instructions for the fish farm project as well, I dismissed them. "Chaeyeon, when you go to work on the fish farm later, could you use magic to dig out a pit?"
"Sure. But is that all I need to do?"
"The old-timers who used to be in aquaculture and the workers will handle the rest. We'll just grab the seawater on our way back from Incheon Port."
"Got it."
And so we kept ourselves rather busy. Checking on the fish farm, inspecting the paddies, fields, and livestock, and taking stock of our current food supplies and materials—the days flew by before we knew it.
This time we also had to check on the containers, so our party, the special forces unit, and some soldiers all decided to take part. Everyone assembled in front of the helicopter, fully armed.
"If all preparations are complete, please board; we'll be departing shortly."
Once everyone was on board, the helicopter lifted off, heading for Incheon Port.
* * * * * * * *
Since Incheon Port was close, it only took about ten minutes before it came into view. That was when Warrant Officer Lee Geun-cheol's voice came through the helmet headset; he had spotted something.
"It looks like there are survivors on the Incheon Port side."
At the mention of survivors, everyone looked outside.
"There's a barricade set up, makeshift as it is. Judging by the scale, there seem to be quite a few survivors."
Maybe because the population density around here was relatively low, a fair number of people had made it.
"They likely held out using the foodstuffs being imported and exported. I can't confirm their armament, but if they raided a nearby police station, they'll have firearms."
"I have no intention of clashing with them. Let's just do what we came to do and leave."
We surveyed the surroundings from the air and landed in front of the terminal at a spot with good visibility in all directions. We grabbed cutters, grinders, and other tools for opening the containers and moved inside.
"There are way too many to check individually. We need to get into the building and secure the documents that detail the cargo manifests."
"Have the regular soldiers set up a perimeter, then. We'll handle the entry ourselves."
We entered the building, clearing out a few zombies as usual, and started searching for the documents. One bit of luck was the absence of any special entities, so the search went smoothly. That was when one of the special forces agents called the party over, having apparently found the documents.
"I found the documents!"
Maybe because of the massive volume of cargo, the stack of papers was thicker than expected. The party split them up and started going through them.
"Cars, electronics, food... there's nothing they don't have. But are there no weapons kept separately here?"
"No, weapons come in through a dedicated military port. The real problem is there's simply too much to take—I'm not sure how to handle it."
"What's the loading capacity of the Chinook?"
"Roughly ten tons. If you factor in the containers themselves, we could carry about six tons in supplies alone."
We started ranking priorities: the containers—our most essential need—had to be taken, of course, along with tools, construction materials like cement, and any food that was still in good condition.
"Sihu, should we grab some tablets and laptops too?"
"Hm? The internet's down. Is there even anything to do with them?"
"You can load movies onto external hard drives and stuff! I'm telling you, it's so boring out there with nothing to do..."
"Fine. The electricity will be up soon anyway, and we can use the solar panels for now."
We decided to use the car keys in the office to move goods by truck. We took the trucks and headed to where the containers were. But there were signs that people besides us had been here. A few containers near the entrance had already been opened.
"Traces of containers being forced open. We're not the only ones who've come through here."
"Couldn't it be people who used to work here?"
"If that were the case, they'd just use the keys. These are marks from a cutting torch."
I told them I'm fundamentally cautious of survivors, and that if these people posed a threat, to subdue them immediately, and if the situation turned unfavorable, to shoot to kill.
Before splitting up to cover our respective areas, we checked the containers that were already open. The special forces commander then called us over about something he'd found. We went over and saw bags of flour wrapped tightly in plastic.
"Wait, is this..."
"Correct. It's drugs."
"I'd heard on the news about drugs being smuggled through here..."
"But someone's already taken some. If the survivors around here have been using, approaching them is a bad idea."
"Unless they come looking for us, let's just leave them be. For now, let's move the supplies to the front of the helicopter."
It felt like we spent several hours straight hauling goods with the party. Beyond the supplies we'd initially targeted, we also grabbed anything that caught our eye that was needed for daily life—refrigerators, washing machines, and other electronics, as well as beds, sofas, chairs—loading them onto the trucks nonstop.
Of course, driven by personal greed, our party and I also snagged a few electronic gadgets.
After that, we took gas, oil, and other fuels. We also found seeds in surprisingly good condition, and since there was imported and exported livestock feed, we took a massive amount of that, too. Once we'd loaded up pretty much everything we could, I spoke to the special forces commander.
"We're going to need a few more helicopters. At least three, so we can run round trips and shuttle the containers."
"Yes, and for reference, we'll have to carry them suspended from the helicopters on external slings. The one stroke of luck is that a round trip only takes about thirty minutes."
"In that case, let's take a few trucks along as well, not just the containers."
"A truck would certainly be more convenient than moving things with standard passenger vehicles. With a little modification, people could even ride in the cargo bed."
Maybe because it felt good to be loading up countless items exactly as we pleased, our party kept grabbing extra things they needed. That was how we ended up deep in an area we hadn't yet checked. That's when I felt it through my Qi Sense.
I raised my index finger to my lips, signaling for quiet.
"There are people hiding up ahead."
And then, probably recalling the drugs from earlier, the agents tensed up, raising their muzzles. For some reason, these people were hiding from us, on guard. I gave a signal to the group.
"We are with the government. If you are survivors, please come out slowly."
They said nothing and stayed hidden. It sounded like they murmured among themselves for a moment, and then they suddenly started running. The problem was, they were armed; they fled while firing crossbows at us.
— Fwit!
A stray bolt lodged itself in one agent's thigh. The special forces commander, having witnessed it, hesitated over whether to give chase. That was when I spoke up.
"No, leave them. Let's check on the injured man first."
So they fled, and we went to search the place where they had been. What we found there were dismembered corpses.
"You son of a..."
"Don't tell me... these survivors ate zombies because they were starving...?"
The special forces commander examined the corpses, probably hoping they had just killed the zombies, but the bodies unmistakably bore human teeth marks. For now, we documented the scene with smartphone photos and returned to the helicopter.
"Doesn't matter, since they ran off. Radio the group and tell them we're on our way."
Shortly after the radio call, a few additional personnel and helicopters arrived together. They loaded the supplies onto the helicopters and used slings to secure the containers to the aircraft.
And so, upon returning, we reported the existence of the survivor group and requested a doctor. Sensing the urgency, the doctor came over quickly. Fortunately, the arrow had missed the injured agent's bone and major blood vessels, so it wasn't a critical wound.
While the doctor was explaining the prognosis, we ended up talking about the survivors and I happened to show them the photos from the scene. The doctor looked at the pictures and spoke with a rather grim expression.
"These aren't cut-up zombies... they're the bodies of living people."