6. Wanderer

Even if it might as well be called a heap of scrap metal, the old sedan ran along a road covered in sand blown from the desert. Behind the flat tire, a cloud of dusty dirt erupted.

The young man in the passenger seat looked over at the driver with a puzzled expression.

“Do you really think that if we go to that person, we can get supplies?”

“I’m telling you, as long as you give him the medicine, he’ll find anything.”

“Honestly, I still can’t believe there are people surviving outside the barrier. No matter how immune you are, it’s not an easy task.”

“Just think of them like Amazonian hermits surviving out there—what’s the big deal? Human resilience is tougher than you think; we can survive in any environment.”

“But in the end, it was fellow humans who brought about the downfall of humanity.”

“That’s slowly being overcome. One day, we’ll be able to go back to the way things were. You’re too negative, kid. There’s hope for the young.”

“Uncle, you’re too optimistic. We’re risking all this trouble just to get one bottle of whiskey.”

“This is hope, and this is romance, kid. And do you think it’s just any whiskey? It’s a 30-year-old Ballantine’s!”

They were absurdly riding a long way just to get a bottle of Scottish whiskey.

For a drinker, there was nothing more pathetic than a world where the only alcohol left was home-brewed, musty fruit wine or cheap liquor made by diluting edible ethanol.

Why is it that all humans end up drinking the fancy liquor they kept at home right before they kill themselves?

At last, an era has come when, no matter how much you hustle until your feet sweat, you still can’t get good liquor.

“That’s why we’re heading to the West.”

“You said we didn’t have to go that far.”

“Hmm. Anyway, I hope we can get some this time. That way, we can put an end to all this nonsense.”

The young man turned his head out the car window, his tone indifferent.

Are there really still people living outside the barrier? Why on earth are they doing something so foolish?

He clicked his tongue, worried that the trader from Great Basin National Park might be a seriously unhinged person.

How many roads must be crossed for such a ridiculous deal? Beyond the rocky scenery appeared steep cliffs and mountaintops shrouded in clouds.

At the sign for the national park, the uncle parked the car, abruptly opened the driver’s door, and then stretched his arms high as if greeting the day.

“Look at this forest—how beautiful it is! All that talk about zombies is nothing more than propaganda to control naive citizens. The world is perfectly fine!”

“Be careful, Uncle!”

The young man, now deep in thought, grabbed his gun and scanned the surroundings. Although the landscape, filled with birdsong, was infinitely peaceful, he couldn’t let his guard down.

His uncle was too nonchalant. It was astounding how someone with that kind of attitude had managed to survive.

“It’s the politicians lying! They scare the slaves inside the barrier so they won’t run away!”

“Unbelievable.”

“We have to get out into the world! We humans must reclaim this abundant, vast land!”

His uncle’s shouts thundered across the area. He was one of those zombie conspiracy theorists.

Zombie conspiracy theorists are a peculiar lot who believe that all the concerns about zombies have been exaggerated, that every problem in the outside world has already been solved, and that it’s finally time to leave the barrier.

They fled to a utopia to escape the zombies, only to now be frantic because they can no longer escape from that very place. It was almost laughable—the sly faith of humans, always dreaming of another utopia wherever they are.

“People are still getting infected with the zombie virus—how do you explain that?”

The young man snorted as he stepped out of the passenger seat. Then, with his gun aimed into the air, he scanned the surroundings.

Unfortunately, zombie conspiracy theorists never won over the public. They were dismissed as nothing more than the desperate outbursts of losers who clung to the glory of the past and couldn’t adapt to reality.

Most of those chanting slogans about leaving the barrier wouldn’t lift a finger to leave the safety of the well-established social system inside it.

Just when we were worried something might show up because of Uncle’s commotion…

Bang!!

A gunshot rang out. Birds burst into flight above the towering trees.

Uncle, who had been cheering, flinched, and the young man, suddenly frightened, scrambled back into the car, nervously glancing around.

“What the hell was that?”

They had said that if you parked in front of the Great Basin National Park sign, a trader would show up. Was it all just a lie to lure clumsy humans? Or would we end up being kidnapped by a dangerous armed group?

“Uncle, this looks dangerous. Let’s get out of here, quick.”

“Hold on! Just wait a minute. Look, something’s coming from over there.”

Uncle pointed toward the unpaved road. A black armored vehicle was making its way along the bumpy dirt path.

The young man started the engine and kept a sharp eye on the road, just in case.

“I’ll stay in the car.”

“Good, you coward. Don’t move a muscle—just keep watch for me.”

He grumbled, thinking that the guy would probably shout for help when a real danger struck. The young man tightened his grip on the gun handle.

The black armored vehicle stopped exactly 10 meters ahead.

“Let’s see what kind of lunatic this is. If I sense anything off, I’ll blow his head off immediately.”

The young man placed his finger on the trigger. He was confident in his shooting skills and had never failed to place first in any shooting test.

Yet, since it was the first time he was about to fire live rounds, cold sweat trickled down his forehead as he nervously gulped.

A man of imposing build stepped out of the armored vehicle. Dressed like a hunter, the man held his gun loosely as he stretched his shoulders side to side, as if loosening up. Then he stomped over toward the unfamiliar visitors.

“You mustn’t cause a ruckus here. You never know when a horde of zombies might appear.”

In a low, commanding voice, the man warned Uncle as if he were the park administrator. His tone was unmistakably that of a man not to be trifled with.

The young man wiped the sweat from his brow and glared out the car window. In that moment, upon catching a glimpse of the man’s face, he was shocked into silence.

“What the—damn. He’s insanely handsome.”

He had imagined a rugged, wild man with long, unkempt hair and a beard, a natural survivor out beyond the barrier. But this guy was so neat and strikingly handsome, it was almost embarrassing.

Could that be the wanderer, roaming the ruined city, unearthing and trading relics from the old world?

“No, no. Don’t be fooled by appearances. He’s definitely a madman—one of those whose mind has completely lost it.”

Survivors of the brutal zombie era always ended up with some kind of mental disorder. Paranoid delusions that the world would fall into chaos again, persecutory delusions that neighbors were spying on you, auditory hallucinations of zombie moans, visual hallucinations of dead family members coming back as zombies, and even delusions that one was turning into a zombie—these were all typical.

So even if someone looks perfectly fine, you can never let your guard down. They might seem calm one moment, only to suddenly go berserk with a barrage of gunfire the next.

As the man approached, Uncle scratched the back of his head and lowered it in apology.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I got so excited seeing nature after such a long time. You can’t see a sight this beautiful inside the barrier.”

“Yeah, but be careful. Zombies do sometimes show up.”

“Zombies still appear? They haven’t all disappeared, have they?”

“Everyone who comes here says the same thing. They’re still around. Once all humans die, the virus will finally vanish, right?”

Uncle’s shoulders slumped in disappointment as a zombie conspiracy theorist. The young man felt relieved that Uncle’s hope was deflated. At least he wouldn’t be spouting absurd ideas about moving outside the barrier for a while.

“Why would a sane person choose to live in such a dangerous zone?”

Yet, the young man’s skeptical eyes remained fixed.

With massive land reclamation projects underway, even healthy refugees were being accepted in droves. Those who couldn’t get inside the barrier were usually hopeless criminals—robbers, murderers, rapists, and the like.

“Probably got kicked out for having an affair with a high-ranking official’s wife. Bet he seduced more than one married woman. What a filthy, damned bastard.”

Fuelled by a burning resentment born of his own inferiority, the young man eavesdropped on the conversation between Uncle and the approaching man.

“So, why did you come all the way out here?”

“Ah, I’ve heard that you trade whiskey here. I was wondering if I could buy a bottle? I also brought some medicine.”

“Hmm.”

The man tilted his head, offering neither a clear yes nor no. In response to his lukewarm demeanor, Uncle, as if worried about the kid’s reaction, wiped his damp palm on the inside of his pants.

We had come all this way for a 30-year-old Ballantine’s, and there was no way we could just head back empty-handed. Somehow, I had to win the man’s favor.

“My wife is the director of JM Research Institute. I managed to get my hands on a remarkable new treatment that they’ve developed. It’s an entirely new drug that hasn’t even been announced yet—you’ve never seen anything like it.”

At that moment, the man’s gaze sharpened. His eyes pierced through Uncle as if sizing him up like a predator eyeing its prey.

The young man in the car instinctively tensed his finger on the trigger.

“Exactly what is it that you want?”

The man’s voice suddenly became measured. Uncle swallowed hard before answering.