I borrowed cigarettes and antibiotics from the stragglers.
We didn’t set a date to pay it back, though.
The other resources they had were too heavy or bulky for their value, so I didn’t take them.
The guys who generously shared what they had ran off right away.
I got everything I needed, so there was no reason to go out of my way to kill them.
Using a gun would waste ammo, and using a knife would waste my stamina.
Even if they were stragglers, being seen killing someone in a military uniform would cause its own kind of trouble.
It might seem like no one’s around, but you can’t let your guard down.
In a place like this, you have to assume someone is always hiding and watching.
There could be looters, fugitives, or snipers lurking in the ruins.
Of course, they’ll probably just watch me and not do anything unless they have a good reason.
They’d want to conserve ammo and energy, or avoid being seen killing a postman.
Crunch.
The sound of biting into compressed powder rations is always crisp.
The problem is how it clogs your throat.
It’s hard before you chew it, but the moment you break it with your teeth, dry powder fills your mouth.
People say its biggest advantage is the high calories compared to its weight, but I disagree.
The best thing about it is that it has no taste at all.
That’s why I prefer it over monster jerky or zombie jerky.
Gulp. Gulp. Gulp.
Half a pack of compressed powder and three sips of water.
That’s one meal.
I’ve still got enough food left to last two more days like this.
That’s with three meals a day, no less.
If I want to keep living this “abundant” life, I’ll have to stay busy.
Current time: 1 PM. Three hours until the air raid.
I could see the destination coming into view.
The warning is supposed to be delivered at least two hours in advance, so this was still within the acceptable window.
I raised my binoculars and took a closer look at the target.
According to the coordinates, that spot was definitely the designated air raid site.
Just as I’d heard, there was a settlement there.
Judging by its size, it probably held just under a hundred people.
A wall about eight meters high surrounded it on all sides, blocking any view of the interior.
Two guards on the wall.
Since I could see two from this direction alone, there were probably around eight in total.
If you know the number of guards, their equipment, and the time, you can roughly estimate the scale of what’s inside.
Finally, above the guards’ heads, I could see a thick metal roof covering the entire settlement.
There were probably numerous structures inside supporting it.
A defensive installation meant to withstand air raids.
At that level, it could probably endure a small-scale strike.
But
That ends today.
The scheduled air raid was going to be significant.
This settlement wouldn’t survive it.
“Stop! Stop right there!”
As I approached, one of the guards turned his gun toward me.
The other one beside him had been dozing off, and in his panic, he fumbled and dropped his rifle.
I waited patiently until he picked it back up and aimed it properly before speaking.
“I’m a postman.”
Holding my ID, I raised both hands.
The gun barrel lowered slightly.
Kind of funny when you think about it. At this distance, they couldn’t even see the ID anyway.
I could’ve scribbled nonsense on a piece of paper and slapped a zombie photo on it, and they wouldn’t know the difference.
“Keep your hands up! Don’t move!”
“Yes, yes.”
One of them kept his gun trained on me, while the other began lowering a ladder down the wall.
There are usually two reasons to use a ladder instead of a gate.
First, it’s too much trouble to disengage all the security mechanisms on a tightly sealed door.
Second, the door is a fake. Most likely rigged with a booby trap.
As the guy started climbing down the ladder, the one left on the wall began to tense up.
He looked, at most, in his mid-teens.
There was a good chance he had never even fired a gun in his life.
That’s pretty common, after all.
Well, if he were the type to hoard hundreds of rounds all to himself, he might have fired off a shot or two under the grand excuse of “target practice.”
But he didn’t look like someone that well-off.
For all I knew, that gun of his might not even be loaded.
Just like the routed soldiers I saw earlier.
That’s common too.
What’s the most important thing for people living together?
Conversation.
If you can’t communicate, you’re no different from a monster or a zombie.
That’s why ammunition matters.
Ammunition is the best means of communication.
Guns were mass-produced in the old world, so there were still plenty left even now.
Of course, in old South Korea, they were supposedly something you only saw in the military.
But considering it was a country with an absurdly high number of soldiers relative to its population, guns must have been everywhere.
On top of that, they have a simple structure, so they rarely break, and even when they do, they’re easy to fix.
If it comes down to it, you can even cobble one together yourself.
The problem is ammunition.
It gets used or hoarded as soon as it’s made, so it’s hard to come by, and there’s a limit to making it yourself.
Even securing gunpowder for rounds is difficult right now.
There are still places that can produce ammunition even in times like this, and the biggest player is the state.
But the ammunition produced by the state is reserved for the regular military and a handful of hunters, so it’s hard to find on the market.
In the end, the ammunition circulating in the market is made in shoddy factories run by groups with power second only to the state.
If you want to put it nicely, they’re powerful factions. In reality, they’re just lucky bandits.
Anyway, ammunition is that important, and on top of being small and light, it even serves as the best form of currency.
So when it comes down to it, no matter the talk, once people get hungry, they end up handing over their ammunition, and those who don’t have any run out first.
You could, in theory, protest with an empty gun, but hunger isn’t something you can just fake away.
“So you really are a postman, damn it…”
“What, you allergic to postmen?”
It wasn’t hard to guess what he was thinking.
“I didn’t hear anything about any mail coming… Don’t tell me it’s an air raid warning?”
The guy was visibly anxious.
That said, I couldn’t afford to provide full-on emotional labor for him.
Yes… it’s an air raid warning… That’s unfortunate. You must’ve worked hard to build and maintain this settlement… I can’t begin to understand your grief, but…
If I went on like that, I’d never get my job done.
If they wanted to survive this situation, the best thing they could do was move fast.
“It’s an air raid warning. Mind if I activate the alarm? Let me know if you’re allergic.”
I pulled back my coat and showed him the alarm device strapped to my waist.
Postman ID number two.
“Fuck… Do whatever you want. I’m going to the captain.”
So the leader here is called the captain.
It varies from place to place, so it’s worth remembering.
He hurried up the ladder and disappeared, and I pulled a small titanium case out of my bag.
After turning the mechanical dial to enter the code, the cartridge inside revealed itself.
I put in earplugs, then loaded the cartridge into the alarm—
Eeeeeeeeeeeeen!
A blaring siren shook the ground.
A deafening roar that rang out for about ten seconds until the cartridge burned out completely.
A signal of destruction.
Screams, almost like people having seizures at the sound of the alarm, spilled out from inside the walls.
A moment later,
“Postman, circle wide to your right. There’s a safe door on this side.”
“How thoughtful.”
The small door that required me to duck to get through was the real entrance. The rest were all fakes.
Before going in, I was subjected to a body search.
Despite the urgency, it was carried out thoroughly and took quite a while.
It probably meant this settlement had already been burned badly once from neglecting proper searches.
Maybe a terrorist had come disguised as a postman.
Just another day.
“…Go on in.”
Inside, the settlement’s people had come out to meet me.
“Is this one for real? How do we know he didn’t just steal the armband and ID?”
“What are you talking about? He activated the alarm, didn’t he?”
“Just grab your stuff already.”
“What, an alarm? So what? For all we know, he could be a real postman or someone who tortured one and got the password out of him. How can you tell the difference?”
“Yeah, sure. You stay here. Don’t come out.”
“Damn… so today’s finally the day.”
So they weren’t here to welcome me after all.
Judging by the state of the residents, the food shortage looked severe.
In the corner, I could even see a child, maybe five years old, picking something up off the ground and eating it.
At least it’s better if it’s something actually edible.
When things get truly dire, people start putting things in their mouths that aren’t even food.
Whether it’s hallucination or just the desperation to fill their stomach somehow.
I once saw a hunter swallow a battery like that.
Still, with no food, their loads would at least be lighter when they left.
The houses, thrown together haphazardly, barely qualified as shelters.
Even the pillars holding up the settlement’s huge roof didn’t look very sturdy.
There was no way they’d withstand an air raid.
“2 hours and 39 minutes until the air raid.”
As soon as I had finished speaking, many people left their spots.
A smart decision.
They needed to gather anything of value and leave as quickly as possible.
But not everyone listened.
They never do.
A small group stood their ground in the distance, staring me down.
The leader was probably among them.
There’s something you have to be careful about when visiting a settlement for the first time.
Don’t stand out. Learn their unique rules.
Don’t react until they speak first.
Something like this happened once.
I saw a little kid skillfully starting a fire and gave him a thumbs-up, thinking it was impressive. The kid’s mother who was standing nearby immediately pointed a gun at me.
I almost lost a finger.
They hadn’t exactly been friendly to begin with, so I couldn’t just let it slide.
So I asked what her problem was, and she said,
– That’s the worst curse among us, you know? The system of hand gestures here is different from the outside world! Do you understand? Differences must be respected—
So this time, I raised my middle finger and asked what that one meant.
– That’s the highest form of gratitude! If you do it when saying goodbye, it also means endless thanks!
After I finished delivering the mail and was leaving the settlement,
Everyone, from three-year-olds to eighty-year-olds and anyone with the strength to lift a finger came rushing out.
Then they all raised their middle fingers toward my back and waved them enthusiastically.
I responded in kind, putting both hands behind my back and raising both middle fingers.
Swish, swish, swish.
And gave them a good, spirited wave.
It was a bit uncomfortable doing it behind my back, but once I’d turned away, I couldn’t exactly lose my resolve and face them again.
That’s how knowing a settlement’s rules leads to a heartwarming ending.
If it feels like I got tricked, that’s just my imagination.
“Hey, postman.”
A man in his forties, who looked to be the leader, spoke to me first.
His tone was curt.
“What.”
I didn’t back down.
“What do you think are the chances our home survives the air raid?”
He pointed up at the huge metal roof covering everything overhead.
There are always people who don’t want to leave their settlement, even with an air raid coming.
The ones gathered here with the leader were probably thinking just that.
“Ask an expert. I’m just a postman.”
“It’s not your first time seeing an air raid.”
“Does seeing something make you an expert? Here, look at this instead. It was written by professionals.”
I handed him a document issued by the government.
A single sheet predicting the scale and timing of the air raid.
Practically a death warrant.
He crumpled it up and tossed it behind him.
“Numbers like this don’t tell me anything. But you’ve got a sense for it, don’t you? What kind of scale this is. Whether this place can survive.”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s ridicu—”
“I don’t know.”
“……”
“By the way, was this place even built to withstand air raids? It looks pretty flimsy.”
Then one of the officers standing behind him suddenly stepped forward.
“Quit the smart talk and just do your job and leave, why don’t you?”
The leader lightly wrapped an arm around him and guided him back.
Watching that, I calmly added one more remark.
“The state of your defenses is pretty… rough. Wouldn’t it be better to rebuild?”
This place won’t hold, no matter what.
But I have no intention of telling them that.
“…Right. A postman isn’t supposed to say things like that. My apologies.”
The leader knew.
Whether a place can withstand an air raid or not, there’s a rule that a postman shouldn’t make such presumptuous predictions.
But that’s not why I was keeping my mouth shut.
There were two reasons.
First, people who don’t want to leave won’t leave, no matter what I say.
If they thought there was even a little danger, they would have left already.
The second reason is more important.
In this world, there’s always a “what if”.
“Maybe we’ll survive.”
That slim chance.
I was one of them once.
“…So, postman, do you still have business here?”
“There’s some formal procedure left. Nothing major. If you cooperate, it’ll be over quickly.”
“Understood.”
With that, the leader grinned.
“We’ll cooperate fully.”
He raised his middle finger right in front of my face.
So I—
“Much appreciated.”
—responded with both hands.
Flick. Swish-swish.
I’m not going down without a fight.
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