Marauder of the Apocalypse-Chapter 97: End of Summer

Traps were installed throughout the old man's house. Bell alarms were the basics. Opening a door would pull a fishing line connected to the handle, causing a box to topple over, and heavy stones were balanced above slightly open doors.

Of course, these were meaningless against us.

We had briefly worked as mercenaries for the alliance, setting up traps. That experience instilled a profound sense of caution in us and helped us predict where the old man might have placed his traps.

We searched the house with heightened alertness. When opening doors, Park Yang-gun attached a string to the handles and opened them from a distance, while everyone kept their eyes wide open looking for fishing lines.

We did the same in front of the old man's food storage.

"There's a lot here."

I adjusted my mask and narrowed my eyes.

The resources were more abundant than expected. Blue plastic crates packed with soju bottles, cardboard boxes separately filled with ramen and canned goods, rice sacks leaning against the wall.

The neatly categorized boxes were stacked methodically like supermarket shelves.

"Tools too?"

Do-hyung pointed to the nearest box. Nails, screws, fishing lines, wires, saws, hammers, and knives that looked like they'd been stolen from a hardware store. There was even a substantial amount of shotgun ammunition.

After roughly estimating the quantity, I turned and pointed to two mercenaries.

"We can't move all this at once. Go back and bring shopping carts. We'll check for traps here and start moving things out."

"Should we bring more people too?"

"Yes, about two more."

The two mercenaries hurried off.

But we still couldn't move. The boxes containing food felt suspicious.

"They won't explode when opened, right?"

"I doubt there are explosives."

I silently turned things over in my mind. The old man didn't seem like a pleasant character. He must have prepared for the day he'd die and be looted. He'd likely done something to prevent his resources from being easily taken.

'Traps, traps. He couldn't have made anything as sophisticated as the alliance.'

Not modern traps using explosives or electric detonators. Then... I wasn't sure. We just had to be careful.

"Let's search the storage room and bring the boxes to the kitchen one by one to open them."

The mercenaries moved diligently. I went to the kitchen first to wait, and the mercenaries brought the boxes one by one to open.

With only the sound of nervous swallowing, the boxes were opened. Each successful opening was met with sighs of relief as time passed.

One, two, three boxes were opened. Finally, a trap revealed itself.

Hiss!

As the box opened, a strange friction sound was heard. A spark flared up.

"Fire!"

"Water!"

I frantically grabbed a water container and poured water on it, but the fire wouldn't go out easily. The flame attached to a thread coming from a plastic bottle of liquid flickered, almost going out but persisting.

Oil. It was an oil fire.

"Get a blanket! A blanket! Hurry! No, wait!"

I hastily took off my leather jacket and covered the box. Then, breathing heavily, I glared at the jacket.

Fire was truly dangerous. One mistake could kill everyone. With summer ending and no rain falling, a fire spreading through the city would be catastrophic.

The people who rushed over watched the leather jacket with trembling hands.

"What should we do? Should we move things from the storage first?"

"Shouldn't evacuation be the priority?"

I silently monitored the fire's progress and shook my head. The fire hadn't spread further. It hadn't caught on the leather jacket, and there was no smoke.

"It seems to be out now."

When I flapped the leather jacket, the fire was indeed extinguished. Thanks to our quick response, the structure of the old man's trap was clearly revealed.

A plastic bottle filled with what looked like kerosene or gasoline. A thread protruding from the bottle was connected to something like paper and a matchstick.

"Matches?"

I rummaged through the components with interest.

He had collected match striking surfaces and created a small cylinder with the striking surfaces facing inward. Inside the cylinder, he'd stuffed an oil-soaked thread and a matchstick, which was connected to the box lid with a string.

When the box was opened, the matchstick would be pulled, causing friction and igniting the fire. It felt similar to a birthday sparkler. This was something we could learn from.

I spoke lightly:

"We just need to open them slowly. If you feel something catching when opening a box, be careful."

And so we diligently opened the boxes. Resources piled up.

***

The old man had organized everything so well that there was no need to classify the resources. They were already sorted by type and expiration date.

I nodded to our Under-grade members.

"Take your ten percent."

"How do we measure the percentage?" asked the daughter from the family. Her eyes sparkled as she surveyed the abundant resources.

"By number? Weight? Volume?"

She clearly wanted to take as much as possible. And I knew the appropriate answer here. Let them decide. Leave it to their conscience.

"Take what you think is fair. Just know bullets will fly if you cross the line."

Why overthink this? The gun was in my hand. If they got greedy, they'd get a hole in their head. They'd need to exercise restraint. There couldn't be a fairer method.

In the end, the family cautiously gathered their resources. Just a few bottles of soju, roughly 10 percent of the rice and canned goods by eyeball measurement.

They didn't touch the ammunition or tools. We had shown several times that we valued these items, so they didn't dare touch them.

Still, their faces were full of energy.

"We won't have to worry about starving for a while."

"And we don't have to pay for water anymore. Things are looking up a bit."

The parents happily chattered as they packed their shopping baskets and hiking backpacks full of resources, while their children fiddled with the old man's traps, learning their structure.

Just then, the mercenaries returned. Voices came from outside the window.

"We're back! Please open the front door!"

Do-hyung hurried to open the door. Two carts were pushed in one after another. The mercenaries, dripping with sweat, neatly stacked boxes onto the carts.

I quietly looked at the carts, lost in thought.

'I'd like to make better use of these carts.'

After today's experience, carts seemed important. Not just as a means to move cargo, but for various other uses.

What if we pushed a cart ahead when passing through trapped areas? Couldn't we use it like a mine-clearing vehicle to discover and disarm traps?

'If we put a corpse in it, we could even trigger pit traps.'

Or we could modify it to mount the light machine gun. Or attach car doors or hoods to make it feel like an armored vehicle. And if we connected it to a bicycle, movement would be easier too.

"Do-hyung. Do you still go to Hope Community?"

"Yes, I do. People are still at the church since they're in the middle of moving."

Do-hyung blinked. He didn't seem to understand why I suddenly brought up Hope Community.

"Could you ask them to modify these carts?"

"The carts?"

"One for mounting the light machine gun. Another like an armored vehicle. And make them connectable to bicycles."

If possible, I'd like to acquire more carts. If made properly, they could be used like tanks or armored vehicles. Pulling them as mobile barricades and shooting from behind them would be perfect, wouldn't it?

Do-hyung scratched his head and looked at the cart piled high with boxes.

"Could you explain in more detail? If you just ask me to build it, it might turn out strange."

"Something like this."

I waved my hands, explaining what I wanted. Combat shopping carts. Protection for the person pushing the cart.

Do-hyung listened intently, then walked around the cart saying:

"Using car parts seems doable, but won't they be useless against guns? Car doors won't stop bullets."

"We can attach spare police vests or bulletproof vests."

"Won't that look weird?"

It didn't matter. This was the apocalypse. Dismantling and repurposing remaining resources was the norm in this world. No matter how bizarre it looked, that was appropriate for the apocalypse.

No, even if it looked normal, it should be modified in apocalypse style.

"It's fine."

"Then I'll visit and ask about it. Oh, but we'll still need to provide something in return. They might give us a discount since we know each other, but still."

I could pay whatever price. The alliance was busy building a survival zone and needed all sorts of resources.

It would be enough to move appliances from abandoned buildings or tear off car doors discarded on the streets.

Just then, our members subtly interjected. With heavy bags on their backs, they looked up at me.

"When will you handle our next report?"

Having tasted sweetness, their eyes sparkled brightly. From their perspective, the water-charging old man was dead, and they'd acquired his resources, so they couldn't help but have expectations.

I slowly dragged out my words.

"That's going to take some time..."

The next target was a survivor group of about six or eight people. They were even armed with handguns. We needed to approach carefully.

The father, our member, fidgeted nervously with his fingers before clasping his hands as if in prayer.

"Wouldn't it be better to strike quickly before rumors spread? What if they escape?"

He meant that the resources would be lost. Blinded by greed. It wasn't serious yet, but he was already thinking of others' resources as his own.

I patted his shoulder reassuringly.

"Don't worry. We'll definitely kill and loot—I mean, take your report and kill them for you."

I meant it.

I had already formed an organization, and once formed, it couldn't stop. How could we sustain such numbers without even farming?

We had to eat constantly, and to get what we ate, we had no choice but to raid. Even the resources we gained today, if divided equally, wouldn't be much per person. To continue living, we had to continue raiding.

I turned and gestured lightly to my companions.

"Let's head back. Oh right, Do-hyung, you..."

"Yes, I know. I'll put in the request for the cart modifications."