Hiding a House in the Apocalypse - Chapter 29



Only Krnovel

24. Magic Potion (2)

“Skeleton here.”

The moment I entered the low building following the sniper’s daughter, I was faced with an unexpected sight.

American franchise signs, a statue of a colonel frying chicken, a comic hero movie poster, an American road sign, various forms of English typography, an unlit English neon sign, an English newspaper, a hero’s shield.

The unnecessarily large and disorganized building was filled with things that were very American, things that reminded one of America.

Upstairs, in a room filled with cluttered, windy shelter, the sniper was lying prone, his gun aimed, looking down.

The sniper spoke, his eyes fixed on the scope.

“Enemy. RPG. There.”

The sniper’s daughter knelt beside him with her binoculars and scanned the area below.

“I can’t see it.”

“I hid.”

The sniper added.

“RPG Danger. They’re targeting us.”

Although my Korean is awkward, I understood what was going on.

Those who catch my eye in front of me are acting as bait.

There’s a guy hiding somewhere with a portable rocket launcher who’s going to blow up the mother and daughter snipers whole.

That’s probably why the sniper called me.

But that is only the sniper’s judgment.

I need to judge the situation by my own standards.

From my experience on the battlefield, people in a corner have a habit of making a situation seem bigger than it really is.

“I’ll take care of it for a moment, so draw me a simple map.”

He took over the sniper rifle in place of the sniper.

The handle was slippery with sweat.

I took a seat and looked through the high-power scope and it was clearly visible.

These are no ordinary looters.

Among the countless looters, these are the ones who trampled and killed others and managed to survive and level up.

The guys up front are laughing and talking like crazy people under the influence of drugs, but behind them, beyond the cover that the gunfire cannot reach, fully armed looters with cold killer eyes are sharply watching all around.

Those guys are probably regular members of the Marauders.

Those who set up in front will be bullet shields.

There were a lot of women mixed in, but they didn’t look like combatants.

“Skeleton.”

The sniper handed me a map.

I looked at her left foot.

Even though the sub-zero wind was blowing, he was lifted up awkwardly behind with only a bandage wrapped around him.

The reason I got up unnaturally when I sat up earlier was probably because of the wound on my left foot.

I looked straight into her blue eyes.

The madness I was worried about wasn’t quite there.

All I can feel is a feeling of gloom, anxiety, and a deep sense of fatigue.

“What happened to your leg?”

“I need medicine.”

The sniper looked gloomily and stared longingly at his left foot.

“······My legs are rotting.”

“See you later.”

I saw the map she drew.

As expected from someone with a military background, he drew only the necessary points in a clear and concise manner.

After a brief consideration, I came to a conclusion.

This number, this weapon, is too much.

Above all, he is a cunning hunter.

Knowing that they are a minority, they are using a strategy of slowly and leisurely suffocating the enemy to death with the power of the majority.

Just because they showed an RPG doesn’t mean they’re going to shoot one right away.

He did it knowing that he could shake things up just by showing it.

Their real goal would be to create anxiety, create wild imaginations, and accelerate the collapse.

He said, looking at the sniper.

“It’s a tough fight.”

“so?”

“There’s room in my bunker.”

The sniper’s eyes shook wildly, but she was also a soldier.

He knows his situation better than anyone else.

She stared at her legs with sad eyes.

“Swoo.”

The sniper called his daughter.

Suu.

That was my daughter’s name.

Even in extreme circumstances, the mother and daughter seemed to have a strong bond.

I would say it’s a stage where we understand each other’s intentions without necessarily having to say anything.

Suu noticed the sniper’s intentions, shook her head, and hugged the sniper.

She whispered something in English.

I guess that means he doesn’t want to go.

The sniper stared at me with wet eyes while I held his daughter in my arms.

“I’m sorry, Skeleton. I knew it was dangerous. I called you anyway.”

I asked her calmly as she belatedly revealed her true feelings.

“Do you have any other weapons?”

“Another weapon?”

“There were a lot of heavy weapons in the Humvee before. Where are they all?”

The sniper gently pulled his daughter away and looked her in the eye.

“Swoo.”

The daughter nodded, adjusted her helmet, and ran forward nimbly.

“Skeleton. Follow me.”

I stared at the sniper as I left the position.

The sniper gestured to me with a forlorn expression.

It means take your daughter with you.

He shook his head.

A look of surprise crossed the sniper’s eyes.

I followed Suu, leaving her surprise behind.

The weapons were stored in a second-floor warehouse.

As expected, what I saw was right.

Recoilless rifles, 7.62mm machine guns, claymores, grenades, and even javelins.

It would not be an exaggeration to call it a weapons department store, as it is stocked with heavy weapons.

But there’s a reason snipers don’t use those weapons.

She had two Javelin weapons, which were arguably her most powerful weapons, but both of them had run out of batteries. The rest of her weapons, while powerful, have issues with range and accuracy.

It would not be an exaggeration to say that it is now an unusable weapon, since her body is now unable to walk properly.

But that doesn’t matter to me.

I found a useful weapon.

It’s an American-made recoilless rifle.

I shot it when I was in Paju.

It is lightweight, reliable, and has excellent firepower.

Effective range is less than 200 meters.

It’s a pretty good conversation tool.

“Let’s just borrow two.”

“Two?”

He nodded to the sniper’s question and asked her.

“What is your name?”

The sniper hesitated for a moment at that question, but then looked at me with unwavering eyes and answered.

“Rebecca.”

*

Now I have a powerful firearm in my hands.

You’ve got two ki, but you’ll only have one effective strike opportunity.

The conclusion is simple.

You have to kill as many of them at once as possible.

In particular, you need to wipe out the fully armed veterans in the deepest part.

Drug-addled cannon fodder comes next, but even they are problematic when there are a lot of them.

So the method I chose was surprisingly similar to that of my sniper neighbor.

It is about quietly waiting in ambush for the right moment and then looking for that one opportunity.

But those marauders are not easy opponents.

Unlike the pioneers we faced at the theme park, they are spread out in loose formation and have sentries posted all around.

I waited and waited.

The looters used drug- and alcohol-addled cannon fodder to frustrate the snipers.

Every time, the sniper and the daughter shoot, but to no avail.

I waited for night to come, hiding in the bushes and feeling the cold air rising from the ground.

“Hey you little shit. Don’t do it right! I told you to keep your eyes open!”

A harsh noise was heard from the enemy camp.

The leader set an example for everyone by mercilessly beating the cannon fodder with a club while shouting.

The looter was carried out, his body half-dead, and left on the ground, unattended by anyone.

Even at night, their vigilance showed no sign of letting down.

Instead, they sent in a small group of riflemen to periodically fire at the building where the snipers were ambushing them.

I felt like he was determined not to let me rest properly, day or night.

With no other choice, I retreated, switched with the sniper, and let her close her eyes.

The provocations continued the next day.

Even more daringly, they closed the distance in an armored vehicle and played music through speakers.

When the song paused for a moment, the guy who seemed to be the leader hid far behind and spoke into the microphone.

“There’s a guy hiding there. I know how many there are. Two at most. No, three? I heard him calling for help on the radio. But what difference does it make? I hate wasting time, so let’s just deal with it briefly. Do you have a lot of bullets? Give me some. I don’t want a lot. Just give me 500 rounds. Don’t you think you have that much? I heard rumors going around.”

As the sun began to set, I approached them again.

The man who had been thrown outside the day before was frozen solid with his eyes wide open.

The border was still tight.

I could have tried to force my way into an opening, but I decided to wait until next time.

Another day passed in vain.

The sniper spoke to me with a worried look on his face.

“Are you okay? Can’t you see the way?”

“hmm.”

He answered, handing her the chocolate.

“Just wait.”

She closed her eyes for a moment while looking at the net.

I heard a few gunshots in my sleep, but I didn’t bother to wake up.

Another day has passed.

It was time to worry about my bunker, but I tried not to waver.

In this fight, the one who wavers first loses.

Between the one who tries to kill the one who is dying of thirst and the one who is dying of thirst, the one who twists first will die.

The opportunity came suddenly.

Late in the evening it suddenly started pouring rain.

It was the season and temperature when it should have snowed, but for some reason it rained.

The looters pitched their tents and gathered under them.

I think I know the idea.

You don’t want to get rained on in this cold weather.

But in a fight, it’s always the ones who aren’t prepared who lose first.

Zururuk-

Rainwater, near freezing, runs down my forehead.

Their clothes were already soaked with mud, cold, and rain, and the cold air blowing in from the river evaporated the moisture in their clothes and brought a cold that could freeze their lungs.

I risked it all and advanced forward crawling.

I can see them through the breath I exhale.

Those guys who are making a fuss inside the tent.

He cocked the sights, disengaged the safety, and aimed the recoilless rifle at the guys.

The one who seemed to be the leader looked in my direction, but the rockets had already been fired with a loud noise and were rushing towards them.

Boom!

It’s an explosive ending.

I hate it, but it’s the easiest.

*

This is the second time I’ve called people into my bunker.

I brought sniper Rebecca and her daughter Sue to my bunker.

The goal is Rebecca’s surgery.

My left foot was necrotic.

Cellulitis, once called periarthritis, was eating away at her legs and mind.

It seems that he was trying to perform the surgery himself while he was complaining about the medicine.

“Wait a minute. Let me watch the video.”

I’m a bit of a nerd, but I learned basic trauma care in school and on the battlefield.

There are also video tutorials, so I guess it’ll work out somehow.

“Skeleton!”

Suu seems to be quite fascinated by my bunker.

Well, it would be amazing to see such a large and beautiful bunker.

“Why is the toilet in the middle?”

“······Stay by your mother’s side.”

The operation began.

The pus was drained, the wound was cut open, disinfected, and ointment was applied.

This is the best I can do.

The remaining prognosis depends on the effectiveness of the antibiotics left by Kyledos and Rebecca’s will.

Rebecca looked at me with a pale face and asked.

“Did I do it right? It wasn’t a mess, was it?”

“I did it after watching the video. It should be okay. Just take your medicine. If you don’t want to get your leg amputated.”

She looked up at the ceiling, her hair brushing back as she looked at her bloody bandaged left foot.

“Do you have any medicine?”

“Do you still need it?”

“it’s hard.”

She sighed and said sadly.

Yeah, that would be hard.

I understand your hardships.

But medicine won’t work.

It was decided that way from the beginning.

“Taking medicine won’t solve the problem.”

Rebecca nodded, tears welling up in her eyes.

“······I miss my hometown.”

hometown.

It’s been a while since I’ve heard that.

“······And people. People who understand our language. I want to talk. Not in this language, but in our language.”

Although her words were awkward, her feelings touched my heart more deeply than any words of wisdom.

I had a similar experience in a dream.

How vague and unfamiliar it is to deal with someone who speaks a different language than me.

That vagueness must have been everyday life for her.

“Our language······.”

Perhaps it was the accumulated vagueness that made her mind sicker than her physical illness.

If so, there is no way.

How and by what means can we bring her back to the United States in this situation?

It was when I gave up and tried to comfort her with my broken words.

“!”

No, wait.

there is.

A magic that will grant her wish.

“Hey, Rebecca.”

I called her.

“Come on.”

I opened my laptop and opened the community.

“What is this?”

Sudo also felt interested and approached.

Now it’s time to work your magic.

Magic that I thought had nothing to do with me.

The magic can be cast with just a few clicks, without any special spells or magic circles.

The magic has begun.

With a stuttering scroll.

anonymous45 : Is it actually hard to look of protein-rich plants in the wild to eat if one is starving?

In_domini_LK: it depends on season and place.

PennKIX1978: Wild Amaranth is pretty high in proteins.

anonymous71 : meet my WAIFUs.

…

…

Awkward English titles.

Yes, that’s right.

This is the Viva Apocalypse English bulletin board.

In fact, this is the main one and there are several times more users than us.

You can use the translation function, but I have only used it sparingly.

Because the Korean bulletin board is my home.

But for this beast from a different world than mine, the growls of fellow beasts would be more to my liking.

“What is this? Are you sure it’s a living person?”

Well, it’s the sound of the same hometown.

“of course.”

He gave up his seat as he watched Rebecca’s face brighten like a girl’s.

The sniper touched the keyboard with trembling hands and eventually transmitted the words he had kept in his heart to the world.

SKELTON: Hi guys

*

“get out.”

I admit it.

This Park Gyu is not a nobleman.

“Get out.”

“Just a little more.”

“No, you did it all night. How long are you going to do it?”

“Just a little more.”

The sniper is a problem, but his daughter is no joke either.

“What is this skeleton?”

“Hey hey hey! Put that away. The kids can’t see it.”

A ghost that seeks out shameful objects.

It feels like looking at the ferret my older sister raised.

It was close to noon when the mother and daughter, who were like disasters, were driven out.

“······Thank you, Skeleton.”

“Thank you! Skeleton!”

The mother and daughter belatedly thanked me.

The sniper whispered something to his daughter.

Suu nodded and asked me in fairly fluent Korean.

“Mom asked me why I helped you back then.”

“at that time?”

“You changed your mind when you first said you wanted to run away?”

“that······.”

He smiled broadly.

This is a story that doesn’t need to be told.

The sight of Rebecca holding Suu and looking at me with wet eyes is so similar to the sight of my mother holding my older sister and dying right before she died.

“Because we’re neighbors.”

It’s half true.

They immediately kicked us out of the main bunker, but they also offered to give us a dummy bunker.

Either way, it seems like this mother and daughter are reaching their limit.

Rebecca still seemed to be attached to her own territory.

I didn’t necessarily try to stop him.

Even though it was only half a day, I felt deep in my bones that sharing a living space with someone other than myself is not as easy as it sounds.

A little more preparation is needed.

To my daughter and to me.

“Just one more hour on the computer.”

“get out.”

I watched a mother and daughter climb the stairs of an abandoned building from the side of a truck.

Rebecca, who was walking with a limping gait, nodded at me.

I asked her out of the blue.

“Do you still need medicine?”

Rebecca shook her head with a bitter smile.

Suu clung to her and waved at me.

I stood there for a while, watching the scene.

There was such a thing as a magic potion.

I left, hoping there was a magic potion that would work for me.

“······.”

On Christmas, we should only exchange radio messages.