How To Be Misunderstood as a Villain in a Zombie Apocalypse

Chapter 5. Having no secrets is a poor and empty thing. Industry, commerce, agriculture, middle class, slums. There is no upper class.

Still, it was easy to prioritize search. This is because each district had the same number of newspaper deliveries. The fact that a lot of newspapers are delivered means that there are a lot of people, and that there are a lot of things.

The first place I visited was the wholesale and retail market for agricultural products, which is 30 minutes away from the bureau.

There is a large parking lot, small shopping mall, agricultural machinery and vehicle maintenance center, and even the Jongmyo Research and Testing Center.

Looking at the fact that ‘the lifeline of our region’ was proudly written on the map, it was possible to guess how much people depended on it.

But when I got closer, all I could see was stench, smoke, and ruins.

I parked the car 1km away. I stepped on a ladder with a large billboard that is common on the side of the highway and watched for 30 minutes.

A burned and scorched building. A collapsed maintenance center. A car with a broken door. A dead zombie.

It wasn’t just one or two. Like the yellow dotted line in the middle of the road, it continued regularly and long. Everyone was face down in one direction with their backs to the market.

Why is it like this?

I saw dried bloodstains on the asphalt road. It dried up over time and was hard to notice. The bloodstains also continued in a certain direction, the same as the direction the zombies fell.

I opened the map and drew my finger in a straight line. The village of Lambert came out. That was what the military police did. He lured the zombies gathered in the market with a cage containing bloody humans and zombies under the helicopter.

“It should be safe.”

I drove into the parking lot. Cars, corpses, and buildings looked similar in that the contents were empty, leaving only the skeleton. Even the fuel tank of the car is left open. It looks like it drained all the oil.

The vines grabbed everything. What the heck are those garbage coming up through the cracks in the asphalt?

I see a building the size of a small complex shopping mall. Smoke came out faintly as if something had been burning for so long.

I entered a stinking market.

There were traces of people living together. A burnt cot. Smoked Drum Barrel. They even ripped off car doors and used them as barricades, but in the end they all seem to have been beaten.

A gun rusted with blood. Looking at the torn clothes and the bulletproof helmet with teeth marks, I knew what the end would be like.

In the middle of all the rubbish, stands a single stall. Model vegetables and fruits are on display. Instead of the rotten original, the immortal replica was eloquent of what this place was originally and what it should have been.

Underneath it, I saw a notice that said .

Grabbing the M4 carbine, I slid up the stairs and threw a piece of stone on the floor.

Tick. Tick. Tick…

No sound. There is only sunlight coming through the window. It smelled more rotten than downstairs. The epicenter of the disgusting smell, I opened the door to the testing room. The ceiling was high, long and wide, like the main auditorium.

One side is a hydroponic cultivation test site, and the other is a soil cultivation test site. And all of that was covered by a grotesquely grown plant. The stench was coming from right there.

The first thing I saw was a cucumber. It was about the size of a kimchi radish, and although the skin was lined like a zucchini, it was thick and fit like a cucumber.

The reason why the lines were drawn on the peel was that the flesh inside grew too fast and the peel cracked.

The vines were thick and the leaves were too big. The yellow flowers hanging over it like a broken umbrella were grotesque.

Cucumbers weren’t the only ones that grew that way. Pumpkin. Blueberries. Grape. Tomato. It was absurdly large, all burst, and withered.

That was written on the acrylic board. Jokes that aren’t even funny. I was so stupid that I crossed the training test site and stopped in front of the information board. I saw a poster related to an academic conference attached to it.

At the end, a diagonal line was drawn with red magic marker, and it was written as ‘swindlers and robbers’. It was clean and neat letters, but the hostility contained in them was as clear as it was.

Kybele. Cybele. I try to bring back memories before I fell into this world.

When I was collecting items, I was bound to pick up trash, and simple explanations would be written on useless places, befitting a game company that puts a lot of effort into it. The name Cybele, used to be mentioned there.

One of the fiercely competitive battlegrounds, the ‘Laboratory’, is also set in the Cybele Lab. The interior was as complicated as a maze, but there were many high-value items, so many users of intermediate level or higher would flock to it.

However, it was not clear what kind of research was done there. There were not many who were interested.

It was a game that didn’t even have a story to speak of, and the producers weren’t very interested in solving such a piece of cake, and most of them, including me, were just thinking about how to easily obtain and sell high-value items.

At the end of the testing room was a laboratory covered by a glass wall. A man was standing by the window of the study room holding up his toes. He was dead by hanging himself on a rope from the ceiling.

The body, neck, and arms were drooping and looked strangely sullen. He was looking out the window, and his face was obscured by his long hair.

A wind blew through the lab window. The researcher’s body shook. He kicked the wall with the tip of his shoe. At the end of the wall, I saw a wooden shelf with “Giveaways” Written on it. Subdivided seed bags were on display.

Tomato. Carrot. Onion.

“Take it?”

He kicks the wall once more as if urging him on. I opened the door to the lab and approached cautiously. Picked up a seed across the lab. I wonder if anything would grow if I put it in a water bottle filled with toilet paper.

Following the gaze of the dead, I also looked through the window. There was a pile of dead people in the open field. Zombies, zombies. Vines covered it like a shroud.

There was a crumpled placard under the wall.

I was about to leave the lab, but turned around. I tied the knife to the mop handle and cut the rope.

Standing on the floor, the researcher thought he might fall to the side, then lay down looking up at the sky. It looks like he is taking a nap with his limbs stretched out. He looked strangely relieved, as if he had finished his work.

Her sunlight covered her. The burnt-yellow research gown is tinged with golden light and is brilliant. Better than any shroud or coffin.

* * * * *

The second stop is the Rowing Country Golf Club. There are quite spacious golf courses, resorts, convenience facilities, water supply facilities, and even solar power facilities.

The interior is also spacious. Only 20 large and small buildings. Of course, there is no guarantee that the facility will remain intact. Judging from the fact that ‘slums’ is written on the map of the distribution center, it seems that they have already gone where they want to go before the end of the world.

So this place is either gang-infested, a group of survivors settling in, or zombie-infested.

Still, the reason why I chose this place was that I came here so often that I was as familiar as Lambert, that it was convenient to scout because it was a basin, and that there were not only one or two entry routes, but it was free to infiltrate and escape. It is three.

Moreover, since the power of the gang has been destroyed in Lambert, the power must be weakened.

Of course, not all members of the organization would have flocked to it. A charismatic and strong leader would be a structure where moderately strong guys plunder and return while enjoying a harem in their home base.

However, no matter how brave a lion is and how strong a bear is, they become powerless when their limbs are blown off. Even if there is any left, it’s a handful per shot that shoots well. That’s it, it can be easily dealt with.

If it doesn’t work, just run away.

Such misfortunes can be avoided by just scouting well. And all I have left is time. While driving a car that rocked up and down happily and went over a hill, an accident occurred.

Just at the top of the hill the engine went off. Turned the key again, but no response.

“Huh, hey? It hasn’t spread? It hasn’t been long since I added oil?”

I calm down my pounding heart and try walking again. Drooling. Drurrureuk, kukung! Empty… I’ve heard this sound effect in a cartoon movie before. That’s what I hear before a junk car explodes.

What’s wrong? And checked the instrument panel. The engine temperature pierced the H.

I applied the brakes, got out of the car, and looked down. A green liquid was leaking all along the way. It was the radiator coolant.

“It’s ruined.”

In the middle of the road? You mean stop like this? This car creaked so much that it came all the way here?

“Guuu.”

As expected.

On the side road, zombie guys are crawling out from all sides. Shooting it with a carbine shouldn’t be a problem, but the real problem is something else. If you make a gunshot, all the zombies around you will flock.

Considering that there are no bloodstains on the road, even the military police helicopters wouldn’t have come this far.

“Should it fit in the cargo hold?”

This makes no sense. Like carrots wrapped in gimbap, they just fit into a pile of zombies. Even the driver’s compartment and cargo compartment are separated, so you can’t get out there.

It’s too bad even if the location is bad.

“Mr. A.”

First of all, I had a carbine, a hunting knife, and two magazines from the ammo box, so I climbed onto the car. If you slaughter the head with a knife while holding a sit-in from above, you will be able to survive somehow. If you roll up your coat instead of gloves, it will protect you.

The zombies are 30 steps ahead. Climbed onto the car. They saw me, but didn’t seem to recognize me as something to eat. Once I took off my coat.

That was the time.

Over there. On the hill on the other side, something twinkled. I reflexively fell on top of the car. One zombie’s head was blown off. Phishuk, followed by a sound.

It’s a sniper. He’s shooting here from the other side with a sniper rifle equipped with a silencer.

“Sir.”

He grumbles holding his breath. I got closer to the car. Another zombie knocked on the side of the fallen zombie, and then fell to her knees.

Another head was blown off. Fishy.

“It will turn.”

I crawled down the road into the driver’s seat. A group of zombies have walked out of the forest. I crunch and chew on my colleague who has fallen on the floor. I fastened my seatbelt and released the brake. In that state, I hit my body hard against the seat.

Kung. Thud.

The car backed up slowly. It would be more correct to roll backwards rather than backwards. The zombies who ate their comrades stared blankly at me. I slowly raised my middle finger and grabbed his steering wheel tightly.