Zombie Apocalypse Whiteout

Zombie Apocalypse Whiteout - 6

EP 6. One Month Ago (3)

That evening, the group gathered in the dining hall to sort through their gear. Yu-bin, Jin-woo, and the Sheriff unpacked items from boxes and loaded them into their personal backpacks while the rest of the friends sat around offering advice and commentary.

Compared to the days when they had to face zombies with nothing but shovels and hammers, their gear had come a long way. Still, thorough preparation remained absolutely essential, especially for an extended trip like this one.

“…Screwdriver, wrench, knife.”

Each time Yu-bin read a supply item from the long checklist in his hand, Jin-woo and the Sheriff held up the item in question and packed it into their bags.

Even when working as a team, the importance of a properly equipped personal backpack couldn’t be overstated. In the event someone became isolated during an emergency, whether or not they had a standard pack could mean the difference between life and death.

“Flashlight and headlamp.”

“Here!”

The Sheriff and Jin-woo raised their flashlight and headlamp, then swapped out the batteries and double-checked that both turned on. The odds of a defective battery or faulty lamp were slim, but it never hurt to do a careful check when they had the time to spare.

“Six spare batteries each, put them in a ziplock bag and seal it tightly. We don’t want any water getting in.”

Yu-bin handed out AAA batteries as he gave the reminder.

Jin-woo chuckled at the sight. Watching this made it easier to understand how these guys had survived a month in the zombie world without a single firearm. In fact, “survived” might be too modest, they’d practically thrived.

“One liter of water, four calorie bars, and one bag of candy. Sheriff, you pack two extra bars. Jin-woo, take two cans for Sam-suk.”

Yu-bin was adjusting the food supplies. The Sheriff’s larger build meant he’d burn more calories. As for Jin-woo, the cans were for his dog, Sam-suk.

Even after that, the list went on. A Zippo lighter freshly refilled with fuel, one candle, a pack of cigarettes for luring zombies away, antiseptic and bandages, a basic first-aid kit, and six 45-centimeter zip ties, versatile enough for anything from tying off a wound to binding a door shut.

“…Spare Kevlar gloves, ten-meter rope, duct tape, walkie-talkie, and a whistle. Attach the whistle to your multitool keychain.”

Even if the radio stopped working, the whistle would still make noise. It could be used to signal teammates or help them find you when isolated.

“One towel, emergency foil blanket, rain poncho, and spare socks.”

Yu-bin pulled a cotton towel, a folded foil blanket, a cheap plastic poncho, and thick hiking socks from the box and handed them out.

“Damn, if I’d had this thing back in the mountains, I wouldn’t have frozen my ass off trying to fall asleep,” Jin-woo muttered, shivering at the memory as he accepted the foil blanket. Lightweight as it was, its ability to block wind and preserve heat was top-notch.

“How did you manage to sleep in that cold every night?” Terra, leaning against Jenny’s shoulder, asked sympathetically.

Jin-woo gave a shrug, wrapping his arms around himself.

“Just like this. Shivering until I finally passed out. Tried to think happy thoughts.”

“What kind of happy thoughts?”

“Huh? Uh… well… memories from before the zombies, mostly. Drinking with friends, telling stupid jokes… or dreams where I somehow got my hands on a ton of ammo…”

The truth was, he thought about them the most.

Jin-woo had to stop himself when he caught Terra’s gaze, afraid she might be reading his mind. Every freezing night in Gangwon-do, he had fallen asleep imagining Jenny and Terra wrapping him in their arms, showering him with kisses… sweet, sometimes intense fantasies. And when even that didn’t work, he’d take a peek at the photo of Pink Punch he kept tucked inside his helmet, a comfort in the form of smiling idol faces he’d never imagined he’d actually meet one day. Their faces had been his lullaby.

Of course, there was no way he’d ever say any of that in front of them. If he did, he’d never be able to look them in the eye again.

“…Lightweight down jacket.”

Yu-bin resumed reading from the list, and the Sheriff raised an eyebrow as he picked up the compact jacket folded into its pouch.

“Do we really need this already? A hoodie and a windbreaker should be enough.”

“It’s almost the end of November. It’ll be cold at night. You might not need it, but it doesn’t take up much space, so better to have it just in case.”

True to his usual safety-first attitude, Yu-bin packed two of the jackets into his backpack. The Sheriff blinked in confusion.

“Why are you bringing two?”

“Oh, this one’s for Min-gu. Last time I saw him, he was just wearing a suit jacket. I don’t think he’ll pack properly again this time.”

“That guy, seriously. Still clinging to appearances! Who wears a damn suit in a zombie apocalypse? And it’s always those dark, dreary colors too.”

The Sheriff clicked his tongue disapprovingly. Sam-suk, who had been coating a balloon with liquid sealant nearby, pointed at the Sheriff’s gray hoodie.

“Coming from the guy who raided Nike at the department store last time. You’re still wearing it. Back when we worked construction together, you only ever bought secondhand stuff for three bucks at the flea market.”

“Huh?”

Caught off guard, the Sheriff stumbled for a moment before launching a counterattack.

“This is different, you little punk! It’s practical! Not like a damn suit!”

"Still, you like the swooshy kind of logo, don’t you? Ha ha ha. Come on, be honest, Sheriff!"

Sam-suk traced the Nike swoosh in the air with his finger. The Sheriff, caught off guard, was saved by the Taekwondo girl.

“That outfit really suits you.”

“R-really?”

Finally managing to regain his composure, the Sheriff let out a small sigh. While they joked around, Yu-bin stayed focused, busy checking off items from the list.

“One pack of wet wipes. One heat pack. A marker, goggles…”

He picked up the items and set them down in front of his friends’ backpacks, still keeping his head low. What bothered him was Jenny, sitting across from him, staring at him endlessly. Being loved by someone so beautiful was thrilling, even euphoric, but he still didn’t want his friends to catch on to how he felt.

No, if he were being honest, it wasn’t that he didn’t want them to know. He was just… worried. And insecure. They were all living together now, but he and Jenny had come from completely different worlds. If they really got lucky, if all their efforts worked and the zombie crisis ended, she’d have to go back to being everyone’s darling again.

“Hey… Jenny. Could you grab the masks? They should be in the box at the back.”

Yu-bin gave her a little task, hoping to break her gaze. Maybe if she moved around a bit, she’d stop looking at him.

“Do we really need these?”

Jenny returned carrying four 3M dust masks. Yu-bin nodded.

“Yeah. Sometimes the smell of rotting corpses is just overwhelming. If we’re working in places like that, we’ll need them.”

It had already been four months since the outbreak began. If they got unlucky, they could end up spending the night surrounded by long-decayed corpses and layers of undisturbed dust. Goggles and masks were essential in those situations.

“Is it worse than in summer?”

Jenny looked worried. Yu-bin replied casually.

“Well, since it’s not hot, the smell doesn’t spread as fast, but it’s not exactly getting better either.”

“Then let’s take a few more.”

As she placed two masks in Yu-bin’s right hand, her fingers brushed lightly against his. Her hands were slender and soft, just like always. Even though she’d gotten calluses from practicing her shooting so much, the touch of her hand still felt like a dream.

“Good idea. These are just our personal emergency supplies. I’ll make sure the rest are packed properly in that bag over there.”

He pointed at the large duffel bag where Jin-woo was stuffing in magazines. Jin-woo was seriously arranging them in neat stacks, one after another.

“How many rounds are we bringing?”

Gyu-yeong asked, and Jin-woo answered without missing a beat.

“There are 20 K2 mags in here, so that’s 600 rounds. Five Lapua Magnum mags make 50 rounds. And…”

He tapped his personal backpack.

“Ten more K2 mags. Two Lapua Magnum mags. Plus six more K2 mags in the tactical vest.”

As he rattled off the numbers, a proud smile spread across his face. He looked like a squirrel who’d just finished stuffing its tree hollow with acorns.

Heh heh heh.

Sam-suk, standing loyally beside him, opened his big mouth in a smug laugh of his own.

“Wow, that’s over a thousand rounds.”

Gyu-yeong was genuinely impressed. But Jin-woo didn’t think it was excessive at all.

“You never know what’s going to happen.”

He unzipped the front pocket of the duffel bag, revealing a Glock 19 with an RMR red dot sight and tactical flashlight, secured inside with Velcro, along with two spare 15-round mags. He was a walking arsenal. Anyone who messed with him… wasn’t going to live to regret it.

“Hey, are you guys not bringing guns?”

The Taekwondo girl looked at Yu-bin and the Sheriff.

“I am… sort of.”

The Sheriff tapped his backpack. In its front pocket was a loaded Glock and two spare mags as well. Still, he didn’t look like he was planning to rely on it too much.

“It’s really just for insurance. Let’s be real, I can’t shoot for crap. I might hit something if it’s standing still, but trying to hit a sprinting zombie with this? I’ll stick with what I’m used to.”

He picked up the same hammer he’d used back at the welfare center. It was huge and heavy, definitely not something anyone could wield easily, but the Sheriff had been using it to protect both himself and the group.

“I’ve got a handgun too, and I packed a couple MP5s for communal use in case things go south. Don’t worry.”

Yu-bin added, pointing at Jin-woo.

“And honestly… with him around, how often are we really going to need to fire a gun ourselves?”

“Fair point…”

The Taekwondo girl nodded in agreement. With Jin-woo’s shooting skills, even a horde of zombies wouldn’t be much of a threat. And if the horde was any bigger than that, Yu-bin would’ve already planned their route to avoid it entirely.

“Let’s take one more hammer, two shovels, two crowbars. Power drill set…”

Having finished checking the standard personal backpacks, Yu-bin moved on to the shared equipment list. Tools like these could be used in close combat if needed, so even if they were heavy, it was best to bring a few extra.

“Generator, fuel, engine oil, ice maker, cooler…”

“Man, this stuff’s heavy. And bulky. Whew~.”

Sam-suk whistled as he lifted the portable generator’s handle with both hands. The thing weighed 80 kilograms even without fuel, heavier than most grown men. Add the portable ice maker to that, and even with two people hauling them, they’d need to make at least two trips.

“Still, we need it.”

Yu-bin replied firmly. To preserve Terra’s blood safely, they had to make ice, and for that, a steady power supply was essential. Sure, the site might have a working refrigerator, but Yu-bin didn’t want to gamble on a maybe. Terra’s blood was far too precious to take that kind of risk. It might sound strange to put a price on someone’s blood… but in this world, hers was the most valuable resource there was.

“Well, I’ll carry it.”

The Sheriff muttered like it was no big deal. As he quietly stared at the shared duffel bags and the gear, the newcomer tilted his head.

“Uh… isn’t this kind of light on food and water?”

They were only taking a six-pack of 2-liter water bottles, 24 packs of solid rations, and a single bag of Sam-suk’s dog food. Enough for four adults and one large dog to survive for two days. The trip was planned for eight. Even counting the emergency rations in their individual packs, they’d still be short at least five days’ worth of supplies.

“We’ll scavenge what we need once we’re there.”

Yu-bin answered. Even with the help of a helicopter, there were limits to the weight and volume of cargo they could carry. Bringing enough food and water to eat comfortably was unrealistic, wasteful, even. If it came down to it, it was better to bring extra ammunition for Jin-woo than an extra 40 liters of water.

“Jin-woo, are you bringing that helmet again?”

Terra asked, after whispering something quietly to Jenny.

“Huh?”

Caught off guard, Jin-woo instinctively reached for his combat helmet. He wasn’t a soldier anymore, and no one was making him wear it, but somehow, he couldn’t leave it behind. That helmet had made the trip with him all the way from Gangwon to Seoul.

“Yeah… I am. Feels weird not to have it.”

“I thought so! Here, take this!”

Jenny beamed as she handed him something flat. When he peeled off the paper wrapper, a Polaroid photo slid out.

“It’s you two…”

Jin-woo murmured, almost in a trance. Jenny and Terra stood side by side in short summer dresses, smiling brightly at the camera. Both had done their makeup and dressed up just for this. And at the bottom, near each of their legs, they’d written small signatures and a message: “We love you, Jin-woo.”

“Holy crap…”

Overwhelmed, Jin-woo swept a hand over his face. A memory surged, his squad teaming up to steal that Pink Punch poster from the gas station wall. If only those guys had survived to see this moment… they would’ve been thrilled.

“Gyu-yeong took it the day before yesterday,” Terra explained shyly. “That photo inside your helmet? It was so faded. We figured you could replace it with this one.”

“I mean, thanks, but…”

Jin-woo stood there, lost in thought for a moment, then muttered:

“In movies, the guy carrying a photo like this is always the first to die…”

“What?!”

Jenny’s face twisted in disbelief.

“If you don’t want it, then don’t take it! Give it back!”

“Yeah, hand it over, you crazy bastard! Can’t even appreciate a gift like that?”

Even the Sheriff, who had no say in the matter, jumped in, yelling at full volume. The dining area turned into instant chaos.

“No, no! I didn’t mean it like that! I’m kidding! It was a joke!”

Jin-woo frantically shielded the photo with his whole body, desperately fending off Jenny’s attempt to take it back.

“…Fishing hooks, helium gas, balloons are packed. Should we bring an extra coil of clothesline and another smoke grenade per person? Would that make our packs too bloated?”

Unfazed by the commotion, Yu-bin stayed locked in thought, chewing at a torn cuticle, his full attention on the gear checklist. And so… the night before departure wore on.