Marauder of the Apocalypse-Chapter 63: Letter

RiderZero didn't stop, continuing straight ahead. The noisy motorcycle quickly disappeared beyond the street, leaving only the letter they'd thrown lying alone at the entrance.

I looked down at the letter from the roof. A letter? Who sent it? To whom? Was it even really a letter?

"No one would send me a letter."

There really wasn't anyone. My parents had passed away, and I had no close friends. Especially in this apocalyptic world, there was definitely no one who would spend resources to send me a letter.

Do-hyung and Sa Gi-hyeok also spoke blankly:

"I have a sibling, but we're not close enough to keep in touch."

"Haha. The only letters I'd get would be death threats. From people I scammed... Ah. Actually, they'd probably just come find me in person."

Do-hyung nudged Sa Gi-hyeok who was laughing awkwardly. He spoke with genuine concern as a companion:

"Razor blades or botox? Fentanyl? Could be a terror attack. Better wear gloves when opening it just in case."

I looked at Do-hyung with fresh eyes. This guy had finally adapted to the apocalypse. Already thinking of letters as potential weapons.

But I couldn't help laughing.

'What strange thoughts about a letter.'

These were a marauder's relationships. Getting paranoid about safety in front of something that should warm the heart like a letter.

Something felt deeply wrong about this. Or was it good that we were acting like proper marauders? If so, wouldn't it be more concerning if this was a normal letter? Since marauders shouldn't receive letters?

While I was lost in confusion, Sa Gi-hyeok suddenly clapped his hands.

"Mr. Park Yang-gun! Isn't it for him?"

"That man, ah. Right, he said he had family."

I recalled that information too. Park Yang-gun had mentioned it before. That he had a divorced wife and child. Had they sent him a letter?

A sinister scenario instantly played through my mind. People wealthy enough to send letters. They must belong to a decent survivor group. What if we infiltrated using Park Yang-gun's connection?

'No. What am I thinking? Stop.'

We weren't lacking resources right now. We could handle the blackout. No need to do anything risky.

Since we'd roughly finished setting up bait for scavengers, I nodded.

"Let's head back. After getting the letter."

"Phew. Can't stay out in this heat anymore. Ah, inside will be just as bad. No AC. Haha. Hell is right here."

Though Sa Gi-hyeok was spouting nonsense, I ignored it since this wasn't a one-time thing. But he continued, shaking the remaining rice and kimchi:

"Will this even work though? Won't cooking the rice kill the virus from the heat? And we're not even sure if it spreads through blood."

"No. I believe in the Chairman."

"What? What do you mean?"

The scorching heat seemed to be evaporating reason. I spoke whatever thoughts came to mind:

"Would the Chairman make a virus that could be stopped so easily?"

"...I guess not?"

This was a virus the Chairman personally created. Whatever we imagined, it would be beyond our imagination. Definitely.

Though Sa Gi-hyeok and Do-hyung frowned skeptically, they tilted their heads. They couldn't deny it either, knowing the Chairman's authority.

So we retrieved the letter and returned to the farm villa.

When we opened the door with a thud, we caught Park Yang-gun hurriedly pretending to work. His exaggerated gestures of gathering batteries. He turned around with a shameless grin.

"Oh, you're back? Ugh. My body hurts so much I can barely move my hands."

"Is that so?"

I scanned the floor. Not much had changed since we left. Well, my mistake for expecting productive work from a thief.

Sa Gi-hyeok suddenly poked his head out from behind and said:

"A letter came. It has Mr. Park Yang-gun's name on it."

"Letter? For me?"

The envelope Sa Gi-hyeok held out. The white envelope lacked any proper formatting. Just Park Yang-gun's name, the meaningless address "Hope Church," and two women's names.

Park Yang-gun frowned and reluctantly took the envelope, then pressed his lips tight upon seeing the two senders' names. He must know them.

Sa Gi-hyeok pressed against the relatively cool wall and tactlessly said:

"Could be a trap. Be careful. Might have poison or razor blades hidden inside."

"No, you idiot! Why would my wife and daughter do that!"

Park Yang-gun's face reddened as he snapped.

Do-hyung and I quickly scolded Sa Gi-hyeok. How could he suspect family? Even I wouldn't do that. Because I had no family to suspect. Anyway, that was really mean.

"That was wrong of you, Sa Gi-hyeok. How could you say such things?"

"Wow, that was really awful. Watch what you say."

"No, no. You all said it first."

While we were making a fuss like this, Park Yang-gun quietly put on gloves and carefully opened the letter. Fortunately, there was nothing suspicious inside.

Just one neatly folded A4 page.

We kept our mouths shut, looking back and forth between the letter and Park Yang-gun out of curiosity. Honestly, Do-hyung, Sa Gi-hyeok and I had all revealed our past lives.

But Park Yang-gun had never really shared. Just that he used to steal when he was younger, repented and became active in church. That was it.

Park Yang-gun seemed uncomfortable with our stares and hid his face behind the letter.

"What are you looking at? Never seen someone get a letter before?"

"Yes. First time seeing someone get a handwritten letter besides government documents."

That was exactly it. A handwritten letter? Something written by hand, paid for, and personally entrusted for delivery - the epitome of sincerity.

If I received such a letter, suspicion would come first. Going through all this trouble to send a letter? What could be the motive?

Park Yang-gun frowned as he lowered the letter.

"Don't you get letters in the military!"

"Haha. The generation gap shows here. Haven't you seen the news that soldiers use phones now? You really must be getting up there in age."

Sa Gi-hyeok, who hadn't even served in the military, said this. Park Yang-gun sighed and weakly gripped the letter again. His serious eyes slowly read the words.

We waited quietly until Park Yang-gun neatly folded the letter back into its envelope.

"Why contact me now, why..."

"...Is there anything problematic in it?"

I asked in a low voice. Letters were dangerous. Better if they were obviously dangerous - letters pretending to be normal were even more dangerous.

Several dangerous scenarios had already come to mind.

Park Yang-gun sullenly smacked the floor with the envelope.

"Are you going to say weird things like him too?"

"Just being careful. Even I can think of many ways to use letters. For example."

Like a cult's style. Brainwashing normal people and drawing in their acquaintances. Or more directly, threatening to lure in contacts. Maybe the person themselves could even be planning something.

Using people as bait. There were many methods. Brainwashing, violence, drugs, traps, bribes. Not hard if you put your mind to evil.

The world had really become too dangerous. There were so many dangerous people.

As I trembled while speaking, Park Yang-gun looked at me suspiciously before starting to read the letter again.

Then he let out a heavy sigh.

"I don't know. Guess I wasn't a good husband or father. Can't even picture their faces when I read this letter. Can't imagine what they were thinking writing it."

I quietly studied his face. He looked suddenly aged. White hairs showing, wrinkles seeming deeper.

Was his mind wavering? Was this a chance to truly make him a marauder companion? Or time to cut him loose? Did his thieving skills still have value?

'Come to think of it, is thieving even that great a skill? Anyone could break in through windows if they stole equipment from apartment wall painters.'

Maybe because I'd already crossed a line. My thoughts kept tumbling down the cliff into the deep sea. This wasn't good. Even if Park Yang-gun was a master of betrayal, he was still a companion. If you can't keep companions close, you end up killed by them like that paranoid old man.

As I forcibly twisted my thoughts, Do-hyung's questioning voice came:

"Are you going to visit them? Seems like you want to see their faces."

"Forget it. Why do this when I'm not feeling well... Just send a letter back. Hey, got a pen? Sa Gi-hyeok, help me out. You're good with words."

"Of course! That's my specialty!"

So Park Yang-gun started writing his letter. He would say a few words and an excited Sa Gi-hyeok would polish them up, while Park Yang-gun wrote in crooked handwriting.

Finally finishing the letter, Park Yang-gun hesitated before struggling to say:

"Feels weird saying this to someone who helped, but is this right? Sounds like I'm trying to scam or sell something."

"That's because it is..."

Do-hyung, who'd been listening nearby, muttered in a small voice. He'd heard the whole conversation. I agreed with his opinion.

'This isn't a letter, it's spam.'

"Doing well" became advertising dreams and hopes, "how are you doing" became words to provoke greed, and "that's all for now" became like an advertisement tagline. With a loan shark feeling too.

Sa Gi-hyeok confidently wagged his finger and tapped the letter.

"I'm a con man. Trust me. Whether truth or lies, manipulating people's psychology is my expertise."

We looked at him uncomfortably, but Park Yang-gun ended up folding the letter and putting it in the envelope. A gesture of not caring what happened.

"Thanks anyway. So, how do we contact the delivery person?"

The delivery vigilantes apparently took requests during blackout hours. Though our villa streets were always dark after sunset since losing power, those were their rules and we couldn't change the time.

Park Yang-gun and I sat at the entrance waiting for the rider. Not even zombies came to the dark streets. In the quiet, we occasionally sensed unknown creatures moving about.

After silence had stretched on for a while, Park Yang-gun asked casually:

"Kim Da-in. How's your family doing?"

"I never talked about them. Don't have any."

"Oh my. Were you an orphan?"

I turned my head to look at Park Yang-gun. The bright moonlight made his face somewhat visible.

"No. They passed away around when I graduated college."

"Ah. I spoke thoughtlessly. Sorry."

"It's fine."

Couldn't hit him with the hammer, could I? Park Yang-gun was already saying he felt unwell - one little tap might actually kill him. Instead I slowly opened my mouth to dig for his information:

"How old is your daughter?"

"Don't know. Really can't remember. Wonder how old she is. I forgot everything living like this. Still worry though, as her father. Wonder if she's doing well."

Park Yang-gun muttered in a voice mixed with regret.

"She must be doing well. If they can afford to send letters, they must be wealthy. Clearly have resources to spare."

"...You're not targeting them, are you?"

"What would I target? No reason to. More importantly, why did you divorce?"

I was curious about his life story. Weren't we companions? Understanding his life made it easier to understand his psychology, and maybe notice when he might betray us. Could even use it to control him.

At my sincere-sounding voice, Park Yang-gun hunched over.

"My fault for not fixing my habits. What was I thinking, stealing. All my fault."

I stared at him in disbelief. He kept stealing even with a child? Wasn't this a sickness? Kleptomania? ...Impressive. This was how a marauder should be.

If I just steadily provided opportunities to steal, maybe I wouldn't have to worry about betrayal.

Just then, noise and light approached from afar. The bright beams of a motorcycle grew stronger. The rider had finally come.

Park Yang-gun and I quickly grabbed our weapons and checked our surroundings, worried zombies or marauders might be drawn by the noise.

But maybe because the villa streets were so dark, there was no sign of anyone besides the rider.

Screech, the rider who stopped in front of us removed their helmet. The familiar bobbed hair - it was RiderZero.

"Hello! Long time no see!"

"Yes, it's been a while."

I quietly studied the motorcycle. Did they still have gas? Gasoline had a 6-month shelf life - they could barely make it through summer.

'Once the gas runs out...'

No, could we use them somehow before then? A rider's range through the city center was quite wide. Could we contaminate them with the virus or something? Would that be difficult?

Park Yang-gun stepped forward.

"About the letter, want to send a reply. How much do I need to pay?"

"Ah, a letter. Well then..."

RiderZero's eyes curved. Their voice became like a haggling merchant.

"With gas costs and hazard pay, it's more expensive than you'd think. Is that okay?"

"Stop testing me and just name your price."

"Well then..."

RiderZero whispered quietly. Park Yang-gun jumped at the price. He immediately threw the letter to the ground.

"Forget it! Go!"

"Come on. This is cheap considering! Who else travels around the city these days?"

"We're poor too! Don't you see the blackout and lack of people? No resources to waste."

A natural lie. We had enough resources to send letters, but no need to show signs of wealth.

I nodded and backed him up:

"Everything's ruined. People died from internal conflict, some left because of the blackout, and nasty marauders and scavengers swept through."

Even a quick glance showed this place was ruins. No signs of life. All lights out, not even candles. No dinner smells.

RiderZero looked around the street again, then bent down to pick up the letter.

"Fine. I'll do this one as a service. Call us if you need deliveries in the future. Oh, and this is the restaurant we run - order if you want proper food."

They pulled out an A4 page from their pocket with food and prices listed like a restaurant menu. They seemed to have recruited some chefs, like the one who'd poisoned people with pufferfish.

A list of dishes that elevated simple seasonings and preserved foods. Or fresh side dishes like herbs and meat from dogs or pigeons.

But Park Yang-gun shook his head repeatedly while smoothly moving his hand. With pickpocket-like movements, he retrieved the letter.

"No news is good news. Forget the letter. Just tell me what it's like where they are, the atmosphere."

"Can't do that. We'd lose business if we sold information."

I quietly watched Park Yang-gun. Was he thinking of visiting? After saying he wouldn't.

"They're my wife and daughter. Nothing wrong with me asking about them."

Park Yang-gun held out a plastic bag with lighters and cigarettes, and after some thought RiderZero took the bag with a light sigh.

"There's a group of hiking enthusiasts living near the mountains. They set up tents, gather herbs, hunt animals, sell that stuff to us, use public restroom water."

People who'd planned their strategy well. Not just focused on wilderness survival, but selling rare resources like herbs and meat to the delivery vigilantes to supplement what they needed.

Park Yang-gun smiled slightly in relief.

But RiderZero mentioned their problems:

"Though it seems they can't handle the rain and are looking to come down to the city. They're reaching out to contacts around here, looking for places to join."

People coming down from the mountains to escape the monsoons and typhoons.

A map suddenly drew itself in my mind, along with visions of zombies and people clashing.

Zombies wandering in search of food and drink. People moving from areas with broken infrastructure to intact zones. Conflicts over scarce resources.

The letter Park Yang-gun received was a declaration of war. A declaration that they would take our territory and resources.

The season of war had arrived.