Marauder of the Apocalypse-Chapter 52: Education

A storm had passed, leaving an uneasy peace in the villa district. The residents drove away any zombies they spotted with boiling water, and the withered lettuce slowly regained its vitality.

Best of all, the cheerful children returned. Escorted by police, they came running back but stopped when they noticed something missing.

"Huh? Where's Stupid?"

"Maybe it went inside because of the rain?"

They circled the spot where our virus generator and the children's plaything had been tied up. As they looked around disappointedly, they suddenly lifted their heads.

Their mother came rushing out, nearly collapsing as she gathered them in her arms.

"Children!"

"Mom!"

The police officer watched the family embrace with satisfaction, adjusting his mask before lowering his head and leaving.

I watched the scene from my window.

'Is the school safer than expected?'

During those stormy days when zombies swept through the streets, I thought the open school would be dangerous, but it seemed to have held up surprisingly well.

The children chattered away while holding their mother's hand.

They saw soldiers shooting guns, the rain killed everything planted in the playground, sleeping in the big gymnasium under blankets was fun, they wanted certain foods...

Their voices gradually faded as their mother hurried them back into the villa. Even the children were now scanning their surroundings for zombies.

I tapped the windowsill quietly.

'Will the school keep running?'

Just commuting had become difficult. With dangerous streets, wouldn't many parents give up on school?

But things unfolded differently than I expected.

The school didn't stop operating. The teachers, who would become mere survivors if the school failed, came up with a new solution.

Dormitory life.

No need to commute - living, eating, and sleeping at the school.

Barbed wire on the walls, soldiers guarding the narrow entrance, police stationed inside - better security and protection than most survivor groups.

Parents seemed easily convinced by a school selling safety alongside education. Despite having to provide more food, news spread of parents making sacrifices to send their children to school.

The villa district mother was no exception.

"Make sure to brush your teeth before bed, and call right away if anything happens."

In the street in front of the villa, under the police officer's watch, the mother held her children's hands while giving instructions. The children hung their heads glumly.

They knew they'd have to leave their parents to live at the unfamiliar school. With subtly dark expressions, they quickly bowed to the district residents to say goodbye.

"Take care everyone."

"Yes, come back when you can."

"Call immediately if there's trouble."

The surviving villa residents gave the children candy.

Having lost many people, they seemed to view the children as symbols of hope. Perhaps like backup USBs - wanting to be remembered by the children even if they died.

I hid in a corner, trying to suppress my irritation.

'What a waste of resources.'

Loss of labor, loss of resources. What was the point of all this...

The children hesitantly approached me. Perhaps remembering how I'd teased them before, they showed subtle tension and fear.

"Goodbye mister."

"Tell us when you catch another zombie!"

Though I had neither a taser nor saw any lone zombies to capture.

After a moment's pause, I pulled out my water gun. Though I wasn't sure if the virus was still alive, it contained zombie saliva.

"Shoot this at anyone who bullies you."

"A water gun? But they said we shouldn't shoot people with it."

"It's made for shooting people. Do it secretly. You can put it in cups or mix it in water too. You could even spray it on masks or mouths while they sleep."

It was a weapon meant for use on people after all.

At that point, the police officer who'd been talking with their mother came over and nudged the children. Time to go. The villa residents, mother, and children waved goodbye for a long while.

***

Time passed and the lettuce grew large. We harvested it before it was too late, picking the large outer leaves first and dividing them equally.

I happily took my share home.

The sound of water washing the lettuce, the drops flying as I shook it - everything felt refreshing.

"Wow, it's been so long."

It had been ages since I'd eaten fresh vegetables. After endless meals of rice, kimchi, canned food, instant meals, cereal, and ramen, I finally had a chance to eat real living food.

Suddenly fond of farming, I looked at the green lettuce leaves. The result of my sweaty labor. How should I eat this?

Should I grill some spam? Wrap it with rice? Season it with soy sauce and vinegar? Or just eat it raw?

I unconsciously put a lettuce leaf in my mouth and closed my eyes. The texture of fresh vegetables. A vitality you couldn't get from canned or instant foods.

And then, bitterness.

"Ugh."

It was bitter. It tasted bad. Maybe because we couldn't water it properly. It was tough too. I frowned deeply as I forced myself to chew and swallow the lettuce.

I couldn't spit it out. This was a resource only obtainable through farming. No matter how much you searched the city, you couldn't find it. Fresh food had either been eaten or rotted.

'Won't people refuse to farm? It tastes terrible.'

When I checked my phone, surprisingly genuine excitement flowed through the group chat.

Someone posted a recipe for fresh kimchi, another shared photos of grilled spam wrapped in rice, there was talk of expanding the farm, people asking when other crops would be ready.

It seemed to be about freshness rather than any long-term perspective or resource management.

I tilted my head.

"No, but this is too bitter? Have people's tongues gone weird? ...Is it just mine?"

Did someone play a prank? When I carefully asked if others found it very bitter, they responded that it was fine considering the circumstances. Someone said to think of it as medicinal herbs.

If everyone suffered together, I could endure it. I put the lettuce in my mouth with rice and red pepper paste.

'Well, it does feel healthy...'

As I reluctantly continued eating, the children's mother suddenly sent an urgent message.

Something seemed wrong at the school. The children might be in danger. Her hands must have been shaking from the many typos.

The chat went quiet briefly. Then worried messages flooded in. What's wrong? Aren't there soldiers? Calm down first...

I watched the screen quietly.

'It'd be good if the school failed.'

Suddenly the lettuce tasted sweet. I happily scooped up the remaining rice with my spoon.

***

Right after finishing my meal, I was summoned by the man to a house in the villa. When I entered, he and the mothers were sitting apart, having a serious discussion.

"The school..."

"Isn't there any way to rescue-"

Did it really fail? When I deliberately made my footsteps loud to announce my presence, their conversation stopped.

"I'm here. What's the matter?"

"Ah, good you came. Seems there's trouble at the school."

The man waved his hand. A casual gesture to sit down. I sat far away, blinking as if confused.

"What trouble could there be? Even zombies that come would leave." freёwebnoѵel.com

Did they shoot people with the water gun I gave them? Did the school collapse? Did water or electricity get cut off? What else could be dangerous?

The man sighed.

"Seems zombies breached the main gate and only a few people are holding out behind a narrow barricade."

"Zombies?"

"See for yourself."

The children's mother urgently held out her phone. There were photos, and I slowly flipped through them to assess the situation.

Though unclear, zombie and soldier corpses were mixed together at the main gate, with zombies streaming across the playground.

Photos taken while fleeing in panic, showing police firing at zombies from the back of the formation.

Pictures of zombies taken from behind welded barricades.

I tilted my head.

"Yes, I've seen them."

It was impressive they took photos while fleeing. But I didn't understand why they called me. After thinking briefly, I quickly offered feedback.

"We had a similar incident. When going out on the streets, we should probably post lookouts on the roofs."

Surprise attacks were a problem. During the recent zombie wave, people died when zombies suddenly swarmed while they were working in the streets.

Defense wasn't just about standing still holding a shield. Observation was essential.

However they interpreted my words, the man nodded slowly.

"Right. ...A rescue would be impossible."

"How can you say that! The children are still- nevermind. I'll go alone."

The children's mother suddenly stood up.

I understood the situation a bit late. They wanted help rescuing the children? My words were interpreted as a refusal.

The man reached toward empty air briefly before rubbing his face.

"Wait. Police and other groups have children there too. They'll move. Our group doesn't need to act when we're already short on people."

"That's right. If it's urgent, you could hire the delivery vigilantes or the firefighters' security company."

I added appropriately. This was a personal matter, so I suggested solutions fitting for an individual.

But the children's mother collapsed, her legs giving out. She hung her head and mumbled.

"What if they die before then. I don't even have food to hire anyone..."

True, though villa residents had helped, she must have spent a lot on tuition and boarding fees.

Asking street residents for help seemed difficult - they'd already shown goodwill and had little food to spare. And no one was volunteering to join a rescue effort.

Just then, the mother's phone in my hand rang. Messages and photos from the children.

A message saying to stay quiet until the zombies left, no calls. And saying the zombie we had tied up had appeared in front of the barricade.

Looking at the zombie photo, I made an incredulous expression.

'What did this one learn?'

The virus generator was torturing someone behind the barricade. It had roughly tied up a wounded, dying teacher and stuffed garbage in their mouth.

Suddenly a chill ran down my spine.

Zombies learned by watching people. But this virus generator I'd captured had unlimited observation of people's daily lives.

People coming and going on the streets, children's innocent torments, me making crosses, people working in the streets, Park Yang-gun practicing climbing gas pipes...

There was a zombie there that had learned more about human daily life than any other.