Marauder of the Apocalypse-Chapter 98: End of Summer

Do-hyung, who left saying he'd talk to Hope Community, returned later than expected, but the combat carts arrived earlier than anticipated.

In the dim evening, Do-hyung, who had left empty-handed, returned pulling two bizarre carts. Shopping carts modified with cut and welded car hoods and doors.

"They're too busy for custom orders these days, so they just gave me these extras."

People who had been eating dinner in their villa homes rushed out to surround Do-hyung and the carts. Comments of admiration mixed with uncertainty followed.

"Looks sturdy, but the appearance is a bit..."

"What were these people trying to make?"

Metal plates from various cars created a colorful patchwork. The edges of the plates didn't fit together perfectly, sticking out awkwardly from both the cart and the plates themselves.

The front plate was also studded with nails, giving it a menacing appearance.

That part was fine. The apocalyptic vibe was perfect. The problem was that they seemed to be unfinished prototypes.

"They only attached metal plates to the outside."

I walked around the carts to inspect their exact shape. Large metal plates covered only the front and sides.

There was no lid to cover the cart. No metal plates to protect a person. The side plates extended backward to protect the thighs and waist, but that was it. The upper body and rear were completely exposed.

Do-hyung shrugged.

"They're free, aren't they?"

He was right. We got them for free, so we couldn't complain. We would just have to modify them ourselves.

Just then, Sa Gi-hyeok asked pointedly:

"Nothing in this world is free. Don't they have some other purpose?"

"Well, yeah. They asked if we could help them with guns if they ever needed it."

A promise in words only. This was definitely beneficial. We could refuse later if circumstances demanded it.

Separately, this proposal suggested significant internal conflict within the alliance. It seemed that Hope Community was trying to draw us in on the military side because the police's gun power was too overwhelming.

Though we were few in number, our firepower was considerable.

I rapped on the shopping carts while looking around.

"Is there anyone who can modify these? One for mounting the light machine gun, and the other needs a lid."

People stared blankly at each other. Sa Gi-hyeok naturally took a step back, while Park Yang-gun and the mercenaries shook their heads.

These people didn't know how to make things. If they had manual skills, they wouldn't be doing dangerous work like being mercenaries. They would have joined the alliance.

This was expected. I internally sighed, feeling both satisfied and disappointed.

'This is what raiders are. What would they build?'

Their job was to take what others made.

Just then, Do-hyung tentatively raised his hand.

"Should I try making them? We have tools from the old man's house, so I could probably put something rough together."

I looked at Do-hyung thoughtfully. Perhaps it was because he'd been camping. He seemed to know how to improvise things. Or maybe he just enjoyed that sort of thing.

Either way, there was nothing to lose by letting him try. I patted Do-hyung's shoulder.

"Alright, give it a shot."

So Do-hyung began modifying the carts.

He laid out hammers, saws, screwdrivers, nails, strings, cable ties, and screws from the old man's house on the road, then dismantled and cut up unused desks and bookshelves.

***

A full day passed. Do-hyung completed the cart modifications. His eyes were bloodshot from what must have been an all-nighter as he looked at me.

"I managed to put something together, somehow."

"Wow."

I admired the cart covered in various attachments. It had become quite presentable.

A wooden board of approximately the right size sat on top of the transport cart like a lid. When I opened it myself, I saw he had attached door hinges.

The combat cart was more complex. First, it had bulletproof vests attached. There was also a shelf to mount the light machine gun, and metal desk legs attached and tied to the sides at the rear of the cart.

Those legs were also covered with military bulletproof vests. The vests were placed upside down so that the machine gun's trigger could be inserted through the collar area.

It was extremely crude, and the desk legs wobbled when gripped and shaken, but it was decent enough.

"Well made. You've got some skills."

"I just put it together somehow."

Do-hyung turned away with a huge yawn.

"I'm going to sleep now."

"Sure, you've earned it."

If you work, you need rest. Leaving Do-hyung behind, I mounted the light machine gun on the combat cart and made small adjustments. Could it be used properly?

I dragged the cart across the dirt-covered road for a while.

'It doesn't protect the head, but I can just crouch. And the machine gun slides when moving or stopping suddenly, but that's fine.'

This would work. This would be effective. I brought the cart to a screeching halt and pointed to several mercenaries who hadn't participated in dealing with the old man.

"Let's go to work."

"Those thugs? Are we going after them?"

"Yes. We've made weapons, so we need to test them."

The mercenaries immediately ran into the building.

"We'll grab our gear and come back."

***

Raiders tend to behave in similar patterns.

When food runs out, they raid. They survive on raided food. When it runs out, they raid again.

The small survivor group that was our member's next target was similar. They held out with the resources they had, then crawled out when those resources ran low.

I scratched my head as I listened to our member, the father.

"So these guys came out yesterday to do some scavenging and raiding, and now they're holed up in their hideout?"

"Yes. They haven't fled. Everyone hid your information..."

He meant that the people who wanted this small survivor group dead had concealed information about our Immortal organization. At best, they only knew about the old man's death.

A perfect information imbalance for a preemptive strike or ambush.

I grinned, pushing the combat cart with a rumble while the father glanced at it nervously. A scenario was writing itself in my head. A scenario to maximize the firepower of the light machine gun.

"Is there anyone who's a good shot? Someone who can accurately hit a window?"

"I got perfect scores in the military."

"I can hit windows no problem."

Some mercenaries spoke confidently. I nodded and pulled out a map from my chest.

"This is their villa. I'll wait at the front entrance. The other mercenaries will split into two groups and wait on the left and right sides. You two should enter the opposite building and snipe their hideout."

"A hunting drive."

As expected of mercenaries. They understood the tactics. They might not be able to build things, but they knew how to fight.

"Let's use our firepower to push back anyone trying to escape in panic."

We needed to create conditions for a frontal battle. Without creating favorable battlefield conditions, we risked death even with guns.

The mercenaries divided themselves into groups, and we walked briskly to the targets' hideout.

My body felt lighter with the light machine gun mounted on the cart. We arrived quickly.

An old, worn-down villa building.

Like any apocalypse building, it had many broken windows and was surrounded by filth. There were crudely made barricades, and garbage bags were scattered around carelessly.

"We're moving out."

"Yes. The sniper shots will signal the start of the operation."

The two groups responsible for the sides departed first, and the two snipers went last, taking a different route. I pulled the cart to a suitable position.

Between cars where I could see the front of the villa while keeping the combat cart naturally camouflaged. Among the street's car-shaped scrap metal, it wasn't particularly noticeable.

I tapped the cart handle with my finger, waiting for the signal.

'I hope this goes well.'

No matter how carefully you write a scenario, variables always occur. Responding well to those variables was what mattered.

Then, gunfire erupted. Bang, an echoing gunshot.

The battle had begun.

I quickly placed my finger on the light machine gun's trigger and pressed my body flat. I rolled my eyes to focus on the gaps beneath the cart and cars.

To shoot at their feet when they ran out.

Soon, bustling sounds could be heard. Rough curses and pattering footsteps. Not from the front entrance, but from a first-floor apartment window.

I slightly twisted the cart that was aimed at the entrance. Sweat formed stickily on my gloved palms. I'd shoot as soon as I saw them.

"Who the fuck!"

Through the narrow gap, I saw someone's feet hit the ground. Those feet ran busily, followed by three more sets of feet landing on the street.

Now.

I pulled the trigger and dragged it. I twisted the cart sharply to shoot the people evenly. The cart vibrated continuously, and a rainfall of gunfire erupted, nearly bursting my eardrums.

The entire world was filled with gunfire. I couldn't even hear the screams.

How many seconds had passed? I released the trigger.

"Are they all dead?"

My voice sounded muffled to me. The gunfire had deafened me. I crawled along the ground, checking the bodies through the gap under the car.

Though difficult to see clearly, four people were lying there. Blood was spreading gradually. Even through my muffled hearing, short bursts of gunfire could be heard. It seemed like there was ongoing combat with those who had escaped to the sides, but I couldn't tell if it was handgun or rifle fire.

"Earplugs would definitely be necessary."

I snapped my fingers next to my ear and slowly raised my body.

Simultaneously, gunfire rained down. One of the humans who had collapsed under the machine gun barrage, a person with several holes in their torso, was firing a handgun at me while their arm trembled.

"You die too!"

"No. What are you doing? Wasting bullets. Die properly."

I grumbled and quickly sat down. Gunfire rang out, and I held onto the cart as it jolted backward. The bulletproof performance was excellent. Thanks to the bulletproof vests attached to the outside, bullets couldn't penetrate the frame and cart.

I folded one finger for each gunshot. A handgun's magazine typically held 6 rounds.

'One, two, three, four, five, six. Seriously, wasting 6 bullets?'

Bullets were already hard enough to find.

As soon as the gunfire stopped, I pulled out my handgun and pushed the combat cart forward. Then I shot the one who was still breathing.

"The front is basically cleared."

Using the cart as cover, I crouched and tapped each of their heads. Soon, the other mercenaries returned one by one. They carried guns and blood-stained knives.

"We've completed the confirmation kills."

"Good job. How many did you kill?"

The mercenaries reported one by one. None on the left side. Two on the right side. None at the rear.

I had killed four with the machine gun. Six in total? I turned to look at our member, the father.

"Were there exactly six of them?"

"The number of people wandering around varies, so I'm not exactly sure... I'll check the faces."

He moved awkwardly, forcing his stiff joints to move as if tense. Then he ran back urgently.

"Two! Two are missing! I don't see two of the faces I know!"

"Ah."

This would complicate things.

The mercenaries and I looked up at the old villa in dismay. The old, worn building suddenly seemed like a tall fortress and a deep maze.

Two households per floor, five floors. That meant ten households. Two people armed with handguns were hiding in there somewhere.

I muttered under my breath:

"Urban warfare is really not ideal."

The risk was too great. Close-quarters combat in such a concrete fortress? Absurd. Our superior armament would be severely diminished.

I looked down at the combat cart. The exposed rear was problematic.

A mercenary asked while gripping his gun and aiming at a window:

"What do we do now?"

"...Let's start with a cremation ceremony. Pile up the bodies."

We had no choice. We'd lure them out with threats and persuasion. We had plenty of threats: pushing zombies into the building, arson, imprisonment. Persuasion was simple too. Sparing their lives would be a gift. Though we'd kill them once they came out.