Hiding a House in the Apocalypse

Bang!

In the late afternoon, as I sat idly in a folding chair, gazing at the sky, I would occasionally hear gunshots coming from the south.

The dull yet widespread pattern of gunfire.

It belonged to the sniper who lived in the southeast.

There used to be a small town there.

The distance was approximately 5.5 kilometers in a straight line.

It was a relatively bustling area with a church, a market, a town bank, a community centre, and an elementary school.

But when the war started, the entire area turned into a desolate wasteland, with only a few concrete buildings resembling skeletal remains.

Here, my only neighbour, the crazy sniper, lives.

The reason for the adjective "crazy" is because this sniper shoots at anything that passes by.

Their actions of trying to kill anyone who enters their territory resemble that of a human hunter, but if you look deeper, there is a world of difference between the two, as vast as the difference between heaven and earth.

A human hunter kills to protect their territory and keep it hidden.

On the other hand, the crazy sniper shoots first and then observes.

There is no other choice.

They lie in wait in high-rise buildings that overlook every direction, using a scope to survey the world and eliminate anything that enters their effective range.

Of course, this sniper is also a human being.

She has a warm heart like any other human and knows how to love.

Just as I know the sniper, she knows me as well.

The story takes place three months after the outbreak of the war.

It was the end of the year.

The bustling crowds, sparkling trees, children throwing tantrums inside department stores, snow covering the streets, and the eerie figure of Santa Claus upon closer reflection—all of these are distant memories that cannot be recovered after the war.

At that time, I was preoccupied with assessing the condition of the weapons I had brought back from the US military base.

The firearms and ammunition were safely stored inside a reinforced bunker, and there was no direct contact with damage or radiation from nuclear fallout, but there were concerns about radiation contamination since they had been in the area hit by a nuclear explosion.

Fortunately, the inspection results concluded that the firearms and ammunition were still usable, and I left them in my armory.

Unfortunately, there were no weapons beyond rifles.

There were no hunter's equipment, let alone anything more powerful than grenades.

It should not be hastily concluded without confirmation from military personnel, but the base had been abandoned before the nuclear strike.

Evidence of a hasty departure was evident, with shredded documents scattered everywhere, materials seemingly discarded in a hurry, and coffee mugs left untouched on desks.

The situation in the United States was not much better.

The nuclear strike on South Korea was just the tip of the iceberg.

Hundreds of missiles had been launched.

The US military, often referred to as the Space Force, had managed to intercept most of them.

However, there existed a special division within the US military responsible for dealing with such incidents.

The Monsters.

Monsters were beings created by different principles and logic from humans, originating from a different dimension. They possessed both biological and non-biological characteristics and had abilities and miracles that humans did not possess. They were bent on annihilating humanity, the natural enemies of mankind.

These monsters emerged from rifts called "Fissures" in dimensions, and these fissures had two characteristics.

One was their even distribution.

Each fissure opened at regular intervals.

There were four in South Korea, but the most lethal one was the Paju Fissure.

The reason it was particularly lethal was because the fissures had another feature—Intensity.

The intensity of a fissure was proportional to the number of humans residing nearby.

The Paju Fissure covering the metropolitan area had the highest intensity rating, while the Jeju Fissure had the lowest.

Having a large population and a vast territory was traditionally a criterion for distinguishing a powerful nation from a weaker one, but now it had become a requirement for a country to decline rapidly.

The rapid decline of India and China, both of which had large populations and territories, was not a coincidence.

The United States, with a smaller population and territory than the two, was relatively better off, but it was by no means a safe haven.

Its vast territory and substantial population couldn't be ignored.

In fact, before the outbreak of the war, there were signs of the US military redeploying its forces from key countries back to the homeland.

Before the war, you would often hear statements like there wasn't a single US soldier left in South Korea.

But the supposedly extinct US military had encroached into my territory.

They had a hefty Humvee with a mounted 12.7mm machine gun.

The Humvee charged through the golf course and into my territory, and at that moment, I recalled an ancient saying: "In this world, it's all about luck; the rest is just trivial."

No, seriously, why now?

What have I done wrong?

Is it a crime to pick up discarded weapons?

Amidst a whirlwind of thoughts, the Humvee came to a halt in front of my territory's 11th bunker.

A young blonde woman stepped out of the car.

She was as tall as me, but her physique was well-built, and she wore a helmet and a bulletproof vest, holding a heavily armed gun with various attachments. Her state of armament was far superior to mine.

At that time, closed-circuit cameras and surveillance equipment had not been restored.

The ones I had were burned to a crisp along with Old Man Kim's house during the nuclear strike.

As a result, I had to rely on scanty information that only came through the tiny observation windows.

Soon, she moved into a blind spot.

I stayed put.

I hadn't yet determined how many U.S. soldiers had infiltrated my territory.

There could be as few as one or as many as three or more lurking inside that steel beast.

Fighting well-trained and armed U.S. soldiers wasn't what I desired, but if they were targeting my territory, I had no other choice.

I had to kill them all.

For a while, there was no movement inside the Humvee.

Rustle.

I sensed movement from the side of the main bunker.

It was the same woman from before.

What should I do?

I could quickly subdue the woman. Her side was less challenging.

But I considered another option.

If this woman was part of a reconnaissance team, the U.S. soldiers inside the vehicle might not be on guard.

If I could annihilate their main force in one surprise attack, this difficult battle could end in a perfect victory.

I immediately took action.

Listening to the soldiers' footsteps and predicting their path, I silently moved toward the exit of the piled bunker, hiding myself while heading toward the direction of the Humvee.

I remember that there was one door open.

That door had been open all along, and it remained open when I had the Humvee in sight again.

There was no response from inside the Humvee.

Click.

I automatically switched the firearm to burst mode and approached.

Just before entering, I felt a presence behind me.

"?!"

The sound came from an unexpected direction, which caught me off guard.

Nonetheless, I calmly entered the Humvee and pointed the barrel of my gun inside.

The vehicle was empty.

The rear seat where someone should have been sitting was piled with a jumble of firearms, ammunition, and combat rations.

Gulp.

I swallowed involuntarily.

It was an astonishing array of equipment.

Even someone like me, who aimed to maintain humanity's standards, could turn into a looter with such equipment.

One person? Two people?

My mind raced faster than usual.

I couldn't know for sure, but at least two of them.

The female soldier was signalling her position, unaware of my greed, while whistling.

Subduing her would be a piece of cake.

I approached from behind, tripped her, stepped on her back, and aimed the cold barrel at her head.

When I was about to pull the trigger and prepared for the next battle, another soldier appeared from the side.

The second soldier was enough to throw a pebble of doubt into my already troubled heart.

It was a young girl.

Was she around ten years old?

On the day when everything had burned down, and only the ruins of a golf course remained, a completely innocent child, completely out of place in the apocalyptic setting, was silently watching as I prepared to commit murder.

Suddenly, I noticed that the child and the woman had the same hair colour and somewhat similar appearances.

The child hesitated for a moment and called out to the woman, "Mom."

I paused for a moment.

Should I kill them and take everything from them, or should I take the risk and let them go?

It wasn't an easy decision.

The first option was overwhelmingly advantageous in terms of gain, needless to say.

Unless one had a death wish, anyone would choose the first option as long as they weren't shot in the head.

I took a deep breath.

Countless thoughts tangled in my mind like vines, but in the end, the path I chose wasn't a particularly wise one.

I lifted my foot off the woman's back and kicked her gun aside before stepping back.

The soldier let out a scream and quickly stood up, then approached the young girl, hugging her protectively while glaring at me.

I silently gazed at my reflection in the girl's blue eyes, a serene figure wearing the ominous robes of fear and disdain in the centre of her bloodshot pupils.

In that moment, I felt like I knew how this foreign soldier regarded me.

She clearly perceived me as a fundamentally different being from herself.

Incomprehensible and unnecessary to understand.

It was as if she was the sole inhabitant of a civilized world thrown into the jungle, and I was one of the residents of that jungle.

Even though we looked different, spoke different languages, and had different cultures.

In such extreme circumstances, was there really a need for us to understand each other?

Even if our roles were reversed, the outcome would likely be similar.

"Here. My land."

I pointed with my finger towards my territory.

Even though I knew their language, I didn't bother using it.

"My home."

This was Korea after all.

While Korea may not be Rome, in the current context, where everything was crumbling, Korea was just as historically significant.

"?"

"Go. Right now."

"······."

"If you don't leave, bang! Got it?"

The woman cautiously aimed her pistol after hesitating, ready to shoot.

I quickly kicked the pistol out of her hand and pointed the barrel at her throat.

The child's scream echoed briefly, but I winked at her and said to the woman, "Calm down, lady."

"Lady?!"

She must have learned some curses when she went abroad. Will she understand this?

"Get lost."

Only then did the woman seem to realize that I meant no harm.

However, that didn't mean the situation was completely diffused.

She still showed a slight tension and spoke in broken Korean.

"Medicine. You?"

"What kind?"

The woman pointed to the child.

"Wait."

I offered her not only fever reducers and cold medicine but also antibiotics and a can of powdered milk.

She seemed surprised by my kindness, especially when she saw the powdered milk.

"Don't come back."

The mother and child left without a word of thanks, almost turning me into a would-be robber, carrying the treasure I had almost taken.

It wasn't long before I got a new neighbour from the southeast.

She was still in the jungle, fighting the prejudice to protect the child thrown into the jungle with her.

There was only one more interaction after that.

On a dark night, the young girl came alone to my underground shelter.

She had grown taller since she had last seen me, and with tearful eyes, she wandered around my underground shelter looking for me.

After revealing myself, the child said, "Mom, sick."

The child seemed to have adapted better to the Korean jungle than her mother, who appeared like a wild animal caught in a trap, whimpering in pain.

After prescribing appropriate treatment and leaving medication, I turned and left.

There was no need for any conversation, and there was no need to mix words.

On the day I was about to turn away after finishing my work, the child suddenly grabbed my wrist.

"Name."

The child was asking for my name.

"Park Gyura."

"Pekyu?"

The child raised her index finger and looked puzzled, so I smiled wryly and gave her a nickname instead.

"······Skeleton."

The child seemed to savour the name for a moment, then smiled brightly and echoed, "Skeleton!"

Time passed, and it's now Christmas Eve.

In the community, there was a trending virtual Christmas tree decoration content converted from something that an anonymous game developer, Anonymous118, circulated before the war.

It wasn't anything extraordinary; it featured a Christmas tree drawn with a single sprite with ten blank spaces, and each blank space could be filled with one of nine decorations chosen by different users as a message of encouragement.

SKELTON: (Please decorate my tree) Please decorate my tree too~

There were still no like-minded users for me, so my Christmas tree remained empty, but sometimes, emptiness could be better than being filled.

IamJesus: Who the hell are you?!

At one point, I had blocked this self-proclaimed Jesus Christ, a mentally unstable individual. Now, his tree was filled with congratulatory messages from anonymous users.

<Leukemia, Liver Cancer, Rheumatoid Arthritis, ALS, Myocardial Infarction, Stroke, Pulmonary Embolism, Asthma, Tuberculosis, Paralysis, 3rd Degree Nerve Pain>

Even the human hunter received numerous messages.

As I watched with a smile,

Ding~

Something had arrived.

[Anonymous user has sent a message to SKELTON~]

I checked it out.

One spot on my empty tree had been filled.

<Jonner Non>

"Huh?"

Jonner Non?

What's this? What does it mean?

My questions were momentarily pushed aside by the static noise of K-WalkieTalkie that suddenly rang out.

-Zzz... Zzz!

It was 11 PM.

I couldn't recall any instance when someone had used the public frequency at this time in this remote place.

Soon, I learned the identity of the culprit.

"Merry Christmas~."

The voice of the mischievous young girl echoed through the speaker.

"Skeleton!"

There was no mistake.

She was my neighbour.

I hesitated for a moment, wondering if I should reply with my name, but the outcome had been decided from the moment I felt a smile forming on my lips.

"Merry Christmas."

I should have asked for her name.

It was a brief interaction, but that day, I had a deeper sense of fulfilment than any Christmas tree message, and I brought out whiskey, something I wouldn't typically bring out, to savour the moment.

"Ah."

As I opened the door, the cold air brushed away the warm atmosphere I had built up, but my heart felt refreshingly cool.

I looked up at the sky.

The winter sky, pitch black and scattered with countless stars.

Since realizing that I had not been chosen by God, I hadn't offered any prayers.

I clasped my hands together and prayed to the night sky.

May the gunshots of that mother and daughter echo for a long time.

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