The interior of the truck smelled of cardboard, dust, and the sharp, metallic tang of blood. It was pitch black until Ji-young clicked on a small LED flashlight she'd grabbed from the store.
The three of them sat in the center of the cargo hold, surrounded by undelivered packages.
"We're alive," Mr. Kim gasped, clutching his chest. "Oh god, we're actually alive."
"For now," Han-su said. He was leaning against the wall, feeling the vibrations of the zombies outside. It was like being inside a drum. "Ji-young, check the bags. We need to know exactly what we have."
The Scavenger's Haul (GS25 Raid):
Water: 24 bottles (500ml), 4 large jugs (2L).
Food: 12 tins of tuna, 8 packs of beef jerky, 15 protein bars, 4 bags of chips (low priority), 2 cans of peaches.
Medical: 2 rolls of gauze, 1 bottle of antiseptic, 100 tabs of Ibuprofen.
Utility: 3 lighters, 1 roll of duct tape, 1 box of trash bags.
"It's not enough," Han-su muttered. "Not for three people if we're stuck here for more than a week."
"We aren't staying here for a week," Mr. Kim snapped, his 'Manager' persona trying to reassert itself. "We need to drive to the evacuation center. The radio in the store said they were setting up at the Seoul Sports Complex."
"The roads are blocked, Mr. Kim," Han-su said tiredly. "And I don't have enough gas to get out of the ward, let alone across the bridge."
"Then what do we do?" Ji-young asked. Her voice was small, but she wasn't crying anymore. She was looking at the packages piled around them. "What's in these?"
Han-su looked at the boxes. He had been a delivery driver for three years. He knew the zip codes. He knew the labels.
"These were meant for the luxury apartments in 'The Heights' up the hill," Han-su said, a grim smile touching his lips. "People there order expensive things. Survival gear, high-end camping equipment, imported tools."
He grabbed a box cutter from his pocket. "In the old world, opening these was a felony. In this one... it's a loot box."
He sliced open the first box.
Inside: A set of high-end, Japanese-made chef knives.
Second box: A heavy-duty, rechargeable power station (meant for a glamping trip).
Third box: A professional-grade crossbow and a box of 12 bolts.
Mr. Kim stared at the crossbow. "Who the hell orders a crossbow to a Seoul apartment?"
"A hobbyist," Han-su said, picking up the weapon. It was light, carbon-fiber, and silent. "Or someone who knew the world was ending before we did."