There is an old saying: "Sitting like a borrowed sack of barley." I’m not sure where it came from, but it describes someone who just hovers silently on the sidelines while everyone else laughs and chatters away. Life is full of moments where you become that "sack." You aren't always the protagonist of your own life, let alone in your relationships with others.
Meeting Bae Sunghyun at a gopchang place in Seomyeon, I realized within minutes why we never became close. Sunghyun had a talent for turning everyone around him into "sacks of barley." To be more precise, only the men.
The three girls he brought along were all young and attractive. Each stared at Sunghyun as if they wanted to devour him on the spot, hanging on his every word. Sunghyun, like a fish in water, basked in it, masterfully displaying his silver-tongued skills.
It was the same in college. Back then, everyone around him shook with envy, trying to carve out some "market niche" by forcing out pathetic humor and lame jokes. I, too, had generated plenty of shameful memories in those years.
Now, I had neither the desire nor the drive. Physically, we were the same age. But the weight of the years I had lived and the experiences I had endured were incomparable.
How many of those sitting here had ever stained their hands with the blood of a beast? Could they slit open a cow's belly and pull out the entrails to get the very offal that was now sizzling appetizingly on the grill? Would they hesitate to put a hole through a zombie’s skull when it came at them with its maw hanging open?
That was the distance between me and them.
In this life, I had settled in Busan for the first time, but last time I started in Gimhae and moved toward the Hadan district. Haeundae, Seomyeon, Nampo-dong... While I was moving between shelters, I never ran into Sunghyun once. Did he die early on, or did he become a walker? With a face like that, he could have been a "pretty-boy zombie" and enjoyed some popularity. I think there was even a movie like that...
I became an invisible man, but it didn't bother me—I focused on devouring the food. Not my favorite, but the place was high-end: fatty, chewy, a real delicacy. Seeing that I was completely unperturbed and simply enjoying the meal, Sunghyun finally turned his attention to me.
"So, how’s Seoul?"
"Same as Busan."
"Come on, it’s Seoul! Here in Busan, everything’s dead. Everywhere you look—nothing but old people."
Sunghyun didn't hide his longing for the capital or his dissatisfaction with his lot in life.
"Why don't you go to Seoul yourself?"
"Me? Well... I took part in a casting call. As soon as the results are in, I'm gone."
There was a note of desperation in his voice, but the girls' eyes lit up.
"Wow, are you finally debuting?"
"Yeah, in a movie... Not the lead, of course, a supporting role. But not just a bit part—a serious, character-driven role."
He had as much acting talent as a bullet made of shit. I smirked at his pathetic attempts to blow smoke and threw a piece of succulent meat into my mouth.
"How did you find out I moved to Seoul?"
"From Junsok. He asked if I had your number."
Hearing the forgotten name, I froze with my chopsticks mid-air.
"Junsok is still in Busan?"
"He's here. Wants to leave, but he can't."
"What’s he doing now?"
Sunghyun leaned in and lowered his voice.
"He's in the Busan Detention Center."
The news about a friend I’d gotten along with so well in college knocked the wind out of me.
"They say he beat up an old man. Barely passed the Level 9 civil service exam, worked at the district office... what snapped in him—hell if I know."
I frowned, a sharp feeling of revulsion hitting me. Not because of my friend’s trouble, but because of how Sunghyun delivered it. The sympathetic tone in his voice sounded falsely elevated, and his face looked suspiciously satisfied.
I set down my chopsticks and stared at him. It was clear now why he’d invited me—to brag about his success with women. They say looks give you confidence, but in Sunghyun’s case, it had nothing to do with self-respect. He was the same in college. He loved chewing over others' failures. Among tall, handsome men, there are plenty of "perfect sons" with clear goals. Bae Sunghyun was not one of them. Just a pretty-faced, party-loving, worthless, weak-willed loafer.
"Things are really tight for you right now, aren't they?"
I stung him back—implying his own affairs were just as pathetic. Sunghyun flinched.
"Huh? What do you mean?"
"You look like shit."
"...Yeah? No, everything’s fine..."
"Whatever."
While this empty chatter continued, the diner packed with even more people. Having stuffed my stomach under the roar of the crowd, I stood up, pretending to go to the restroom.
Seomyeon was loud and hot despite the cool night air. Salarymen tasting freedom and aimless youth were either aggressively drowning themselves in booze or just wandering the streets. In 48 days, this glowing landscape would be nothing but a memory. I silently drank in the view and headed toward the road.
*****
In the taxi on the way back, I remembered Junsok with a heavy heart. In college, we were inseparable, but after graduation—rare calls until it all faded to nothing. Why? We were busy surviving. It sounds like a cheap excuse, but earning a crust of bread is no easy task, and when the scenery of life changes, old connections inevitably pale. No one is to blame; you just realize at some point that the person stayed somewhere far behind.
I knew he was preparing for the civil service exams, but I didn't know he’d passed them. And then landed in jail for beating an old man... It was hard to believe, but in the apocalypse, even the kindest people often stained their hands with blood.
Through five lives, floundering at the very bottom, I had met thousands of people. There were saints among them and scumbags, but mostly—just ordinary people in the face of catastrophe. Now, after returning, most of them are living somewhere. There were a few faces I wanted to see, but I never looked for them. I remember them, but they don't remember me. Our connection is a matter of a future that hasn't happened yet, and since I'm doing everything differently in this life, we might not meet at all.
For better or worse, I didn't owe my life to anyone. On the other hand, there were people like Shin Taeik, whom I wanted to gut the moment I saw them. But if I kill someone now, while the world is still functioning, the police will be on my tail, and I won't have time to do anything before I become zombie fodder. And in prison, I'm definitely finished. Revenge can wait; preparation is more important.
But I have to visit Junsok. Meeting in a detention center is an irony of fate, but he shouldn't be pitied. In 48 days, even the darlings of fortune living in penthouses will turn into walking corpses or find themselves in conditions worse than a prison cell.
I leaned my head against the seat. The taxi sped through the city lights, which looked like ghosts.
*****
Getting off at Jangjeon Station, I walked uphill at a leisurely pace. Looking around, I saw that everything was here: bathhouses, gyms, shops, chicken coops, diners...
When the panic starts, looters will sweep these shops clean. I’ll have my own warehouse, so there’s no need to get into that mess. Но knowing where everything is located is a must.
Dropping into a store for beer and chips, I went deeper into the residential quarter. The atmosphere shifted sharply, as if I’d stepped onto the dark side of the moon. No bright signs, no pedestrians. Rare streetlights, like punished children, dejectedly lit the patches beneath them.
Stopping on a corner, I looked down at the city. Something alien hovered over the high-rises near the shopping district. A drone. A medium-sized quadcopter.
A drone here?
I looked closer. It slowly flew up to the illuminated windows. It looked like a hunter-killer machine from Skynet searching for survivors, but this pervert’s goals were much more primitive. Is it really that interesting to see how the neighbors live? Have social media and shows lost their kick?
I don't give a damn about his voyeurism, but after the end begins, such toys over the shelter could become deadly. The best remedy is an anti-drone signal jammer, but you can't get them in Korea. Even the military barely has them.
I’ll have to camouflage the shelter, and if that fails—shoot them down with a shotgun using fine birdshot. The drone climbed higher, having had its fill of other people's apartments, and flew away. I noted the direction and went home.
The shelter, hidden in the woods on the mountainside, was drowned in absolute darkness. The empty parking lot and the building without gates looked eerie, like a haunted house. An ordinary person would be afraid to enter, but I walked in without hesitation.
I locked the main door, went up to the third floor, took a hot shower, and opened a beer. When the buzz hit my head pleasantly, I brushed my teeth and lay down. Under the warm blanket, sleep claimed me instantly.
For the first time in a long while, I had a dream. A scene from an old novel: I’m drinking beer on the roof of a dorm, and a firefly lands on the railing. Twilight, the smell of summer, and an aching longing. The firefly blinked with a yellow light, feeling the cold metal of the railing. I reached out my hand.
He wasn't afraid. He crawled onto my palm, lighting up the darkness in my soul, and then slipped off and took flight, like a drone. The trail of its light traced lines of complex, fleeting connections in my eyes.
In that moment, I felt acutely: no matter how many times life repeats, there are things you can't bring back.
I reached my hand into the void but froze. Someone was standing behind me.
"What's up? Aren't you coming?"
It was Junsok. Tanned face, baseball cap, a shotgun in his hands. He looked like a seasoned veteran. I really should go see him at the detention center.
"I'm coming."
I finished my beer, tossed the can, and grabbed my shotgun. We went down and got into the Sorento. Junsok was at the wheel.
"Where did it go?"
"Southeast."
Junsok floored it in the direction the scout drone had flown. The Sorento flew down the road, swerving around abandoned cars and trash. Zombies in stasis twitched at the sound, but we didn't have time for them now. Living enemies are more dangerous.
Staring through the windshield, I pulled shells from my tactical vest and loaded the shotgun. Not birdshot. Large buckshot.