WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: Potter
Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried
◈ Hiding a House in the Apocalypse ◈
Chapter 19: Premonition
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I picked up a TV signal for the first time in a while.
Apparently, the President himself was making a statement.
I didn't listen properly.
A sewage pipe had clogged, so I had to keep going back and forth between the bunker and outside to clear it.
I didn't need to listen properly, either.
“It isn't true that the government is relocating to Jeju.”
He was spouting bullshit from the start.
I left the TV on and began working on the pipes.
The main culprit behind the blockage was the fallen leaves and trash piled around the sewage outlet.
Trash, I understood. But where the hell had all those leaves come from?
“The reason military aircraft have been taking off so often lately isn't to move government assets to Jeju, but because of the threat from Japan. On the 3rd, the Japanese Maritime Self-Defense Force sank a humanitarian asylum vessel carrying around 150 South Korean citizens who had departed Busan without even firing warning shots...”
I listened to the broadcast here and there as I went between the bunker and the outlet.
There was some distance between the sewage pipe and the bunker.
A small stream ran around the low hill where my main bunker stood, but its flow was weak and there were too many eyes around. So I had installed the sewage outlet farther away, near the stream.
It had been an excellent decision overall, but it was a little annoying at times like this.
“It is true that some government assets were moved to Jeju, but that was an independent action taken by Director Lee Sanghun of the National Crisis Committee's Information Strategy Bureau...”
I considered turning off the TV there, but I didn't know when I'd get another broadcast like this, so I kept it on and resumed work.
I reinforced the outlet with wire mesh, then ran some water through it.
Clean.
While I was at it, I cleaned the septic tank too.
It meant using a hose and pump to suck up the sludge settled at the bottom of the tank and move it elsewhere.
Even as the pump sucked up my shit, I listened to the broadcast whenever I had a moment.
“Within three days, the government will release its reserves and begin unrestricted ration distribution. We will also conduct emergency free examinations for children and adolescents. Contrary to reports from certain media outlets and rumors, our government possesses reserves equal to three years' worth of major consumer goods, including food and medical supplies...”
I had considered dumping everything directly into the stream without installing a septic tank, but human waste smelled awful. And if sediment built up around the outlet, it would do nothing but announce that someone lived here. So I'd installed one with help from my mentor, John_nenon.
Of course, I regretted it every time I had to clean it. But once I got through that brief miserable stretch, it was clearly the wiser choice.
My bunker wasn't a temporary refuge. It was where I'd live until I died.
“Ah, fuck!”
Shit water splashed around my mouth.
Cursing, I returned to the bunker, where a warm voice greeted me.
“Our government will remain with the people forever.”
I turned off the broadcast there.
Electricity was precious, and I didn't think I needed to hear any more.
Still, I'd gained something from it.
Three days.
At least three days of peace, probably.
Though I couldn't shake the bad feeling.
* * *
The first day, I walked around the bunker and inspected its condition.
My main focus was checking every detonating cord connecting the dummy bunker to the main bunker.
None were faulty, but two spots in the camouflage had been exposed.
It might have seemed trivial, but in a crisis, small differences could decide who lived and who died.
After carefully concealing the detonating cords again, I set new explosives in front of the entrance to the secret passage leading from the dummy bunker to the main bunker.
They weren't strong enough to blow the door off, but they were meant to easily clear out, with the press of a button, anyone lurking inside the main bunker as before.
Behind the secret entrance, I also prepared death traps and defensive cover that only I could use, in case the worst happened.
That afternoon, I turned the meat I'd put in the dehydrator into preserved food.
I was making something called pemmican, which was made by drying meat thoroughly, grinding it fine in a blender, mixing it with dried cranberries, and setting it with fat.
It supposedly kept fairly well and was nutritious too.
I hadn't planned to make it right away.
It was preserved food, but it couldn't possibly be more efficient than canned goods, and I was somewhat picky about food.
It was more like insurance for a situation where I couldn't use a freezer or generator.
But the Lieutenant Colonel Choi incident had proved that not everything went as expected.
I never knew when a second or third Lieutenant Colonel Choi might invade my territory.
The weather would soon turn cold, but it was better to be prepared.
With three days to spare, I hurriedly watched a video and tried making it. Maybe it was thanks to the chef's masterful touch, but it was pretty edible.
Still, aside from its usefulness as preserved food, it wasn't something I'd recommend.
It took too much work.
SKELTON: (SKELTON cooking) I made pemmican!
So I made time and posted it on the community.
It got no likes, but it was fresh content, so it received quite a few comments.
Maybe human hunter was free for once, because Defender left a comment too.
Defender: I like men who can cook.
The moment I saw it, my face went blank.
“?”
What was this bastard doing?
Could it be that?
That... guy who liked guys...
Should I unfriend Defender? No, doing that would probably bring our reunion forward, so I decided to endure it.
With a faint sense of dread, I stored thirty-six meals' worth of pemmican in a cool place, mixed with a generous amount of preservatives.
On the second day, I went around the dummy bunker and cleared the shooting lanes.
At every firing port and cover position, I aimed with an actual gun and removed anything the enemy might use for cover.
I'd done this before, but that had been before the war. The environment had changed a lot since then.
The most troublesome thing was the grass growing so damned fast.
I spent the entire day cutting it down with a sickle, remaking my territory into something that belonged to me alone.
Even after all this backbreaking work, my belief that combat was the last resort hadn't changed.
I was alone, and the enemies I had to face were endless.
The rising caliber of my enemies was another danger.
When a country collapsed, soldiers becoming the most dangerous group was obvious enough from the examples of India and China.
The planes headed for Jeju probably weren't packed with soldiers.
Kim Daram had said so too.
There wouldn't be many places in Jeju for soldiers.
Right then, a transport plane roared overhead.
A thought suddenly occurred to me.
Was Kim Daram on that plane too?
It felt like she should be leaving soon.
That night, after soaking in a hot bath and washing away the day's fatigue, I drank a glass of shelf-stable milk and logged into the community.
The user on the hottest streak lately was the journalist guy.
They lived in Seoul and reported on the city's collapse in real time. Of course they were popular.
gijayangban: Gangnam, live.
jpg
gijayangban: (From PaleNet) Han River temperature, live.
jpg
gijayangban: Recent Seoul fashion.
jpg
gijayangban: Tanks appearing inside the Four Great Gates[1].
gif...
Sure enough, the Popular Posts board now felt like the journalist guy's personal forum.
It was almost like John_nenon in his prime.
One of the journalist guy's posts left a particularly strong impression on me.
gijayangban: What airports look like these days.
jpg
The airport was packed with people.
They wanted to board planes.
The military and police blocked them, but some ran onto the runway and stood in front of transport planes, begging to be taken aboard. Furious clubs beat them down.
Nobody died, but blood streamed from cracked heads and soaked the grayish-white concrete. It reminded me of a Monster killing my teammate and being drenched in blood.
* * *
On the third day after the President's statement, I spread out a blanket and folding table under the warm sunlight, checked my weapons and ammunition, and sharpened my axe.
It was a peaceful, quiet day.
The community shared much the same lazy feeling.
Like the calm before a storm.
Everyone talked about their ordinary lives, but all eyes were on Seoul.
There was one small commotion, though.
Defender: You keep saying I'm a woman, so here's proof.
Human hunter uploaded a photo of a hand.
The hand had long, pale fingers and was rather pretty, but its sturdy shape and bulging veins unmistakably showed that its owner was a healthy adult man.
I'd been right.
Human hunter was a man.
People had gone on and on about some supposedly feminine silhouette, but the moment human hunter gave proof, they fell silent as if by magic.
Only one user who had strongly insisted Defender was a woman continued making unconvincing arguments alone.
unicorn18: (Info) A woman's hand can look like a man's hand depending on the lighting and angle!
Nobody agreed.
Still, it looked like even the great human hunter had finally run into trouble.
The guy who had silently posted nothing but cynical fact bombs and proof of his kills had, unlike himself, revealed his difficulty on a public board for everyone to see.
Defender: Anyone got bullets to spare?
I clicked the post.
- Looking for 5.56 mm rounds. The more, the better. I've got plenty of stockpiles of canned food, batteries, clothes, fuel, and so on, except medicine. DM me if you want to trade.
P.S. Some of you are worried because I kill a lot of people. I won't touch forum users.
Well, after killing that many people, it was only natural he'd run low on ammunition.
Even proposing a trade at a time like this showed that he thought differently from normal people.
But this guy was my internet friend.
Message from Defender: SKELTON. You've got bullets to spare, right?
SKELTON: Not really.
Message from Defender: If you do, give me some. Want anything?
Message from Defender: Answer me.
SKELTON: You have left the chat room.
Message from Defender: Don't bullshit me. Want me to come find you?
“...Ha.”
It wasn't as though this friend was particularly threatening to me.
Defender's combat ability was presumably considerable, but that was all.
In the wilderness, where there were many variables, the outcome could depend on preparation and luck. But in a situation without such variables, the odds of me losing to Defender were extremely low.
We just didn't mesh.
Everyone probably had at least one movie genre they hated watching.
For me, it was horror movies.
Life itself was horror. Why would I go out of my way to watch one?
Human hunter was like a horror movie.
And that horror-movie-like bastard kept asking to see me.
Message from Defender: I was joking, but I'm seriously in danger right now. I messed with people connected to the military. They've been searching the area for fifteen days, and I think there's going to be a fight soon. I don't know about anyone else, but I trust you. SKELTON. Help me out.
I had gotten the vague sense from Defender's conduct so far that this wasn't someone who lied.
What should I do?
Maybe the answer had been decided already.
SKELTON: (Loyal man SKELTON) Where are you?
Defender and I were the same kind of people, not all that different.
Message from Defender: (Defender moved) SKELTON, you're awesome!
The meeting place Defender requested was unexpected.
It was near an amusement park around Yongin.
The place had taken a direct hit from chemical weapons during the war and had been thoroughly abandoned, but Defender wanted to meet nearby.
I didn't particularly like the location.
That area had long been a gray zone beyond government control.
There was a nearby territory controlled by an Infiltration Type Monster. It was a Settled Type rather than a Roaming Type, so it wasn't dangerous as long as you didn't get too close. But the empty zone created by the Monster had drawn in every kind of criminal.
No mutations had been reported, but the thing I feared most while traveling was sudden gunfire.
Going to meet Defender would greatly increase those odds.
Of course I hesitated.
After I didn't reply for a while, Defender sent another message.
Message from Defender: If it's hard for you to come, should I go instead? I'm the one who needs this. But I don't have a car, so I'd have to walk.
SKELTON: No, I'll go. Just tell me a safe route.
It was dangerous, but it was better for me to go.
I didn't want to reveal my territory.
Human hunter talked a big game, but my territory wasn't somewhere that could be found easily.
I exchanged messages with human hunter and discussed the meeting schedule.
Since it was a dangerous area, we had to look at maps and discuss the route in hundred-meter increments.
That was the last ordinary part of the third day before the storm.
* * *
The next day, everyone waited for the next news the journalist guy's fingers would deliver.
I too kept hitting refresh with a blank face, carrying an odd feeling I couldn't tell was tension or anticipation.
keystone: (Bad news) Status of those dog bastards who pitched tents next door
- Still haven't left.
anon118: Doesn't the server response feel slower than before?
iamjesus: He hath filled the hungry with good things; and the rich he hath sent empty away.
unicorn18: My little squishy has gotten hard...
anon552: Current situation in Seoul.
jpg
Kyle_Dos: The post above is bait.
SKELTON: What's butter for lunch today?
...
The peaceful hometown of my heart, as always.
That afternoon, the journalist guy finally made a post.
gijayangban: Current situation in Seoul.
jpg
The result exceeded everyone's expectations.
The government had kept its promise.
They were distributing the promised food and providing support such as medicine.
I felt half relieved and half empty as I stretched.
They'd somehow gotten through the crisis.
A transport plane roared over my bunker.
Maybe I should air out my bedding in the sun for a change.
As I was tidying my bedding, my K-Walkie-Talkie suddenly rang with a sharp incoming tone.
Personal Identification Number: DARAM
Kim Daram.
“...”
Someone once said that bad feelings always came true only because people didn't count their good feelings.
But did people really have that many chances to count good feelings?
If you had a life where you could count your good feelings,
“Senior. How's the bunker? Is there room for three people, including me?”
then it might surely be a happy life.
Footnotes:
[1] The Four Great Gates: Seoul's four main gates in its former city wall. Being inside them means being in historic central Seoul.
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