Hiding a House in the Apocalypse-Chapter 63.2: Two Offspring (2)

I examined the wound.

It was teeming with maggots, filling every crevice.

Using gloved hands, I swept them away and inspected further.

It was too late.

The injury was far too severe to salvage. Surviving this long was already a miracle.

Gold lay there, unable to even lift his head, staring at me with eyes full of resignation.

“Gold...”

Slowly, I shook my head.

Gold closed his eyes and lowered his head.

He had never done anything particularly noteworthy for me.

And I was no different.

Yet, for some reason, this creature stirred something special within me.

Maybe it was because there were no expectations between us from the beginning.

I wanted to do something for him.

But what could I do for someone who was clearly about to die?

No—there was one thing.

“Gold.”

I called out to him.

He turned his weary eyes toward me without lifting his head.

“Let’s go home.”

He struggled to raise his head.

“If you’re going to die, you should at least die at home.”

Gold let out a faint wheezing sound. He couldn’t even manage a proper bark.

As he lifted his head, dried blood and maggots mingled with pus fell from beneath his fur.

But we didn’t need words to communicate.

Gold slowly nodded and stuck out his tongue.

“...Wait here. I’ll bring the truck.”

He lowered himself back down.

“Can you walk?”

Gold tried to push himself up but quickly faltered.

“It’s okay. Don’t waste your strength. I’ll be right back. Don’t you dare die on me.”

Gold replied with another faint, wheezing sound.

As I mounted the motorcycle, Silver wagged his tail, looking at me curiously.

“You stay here.”

Silver tilted his head, wagging his tail in confusion.

I pointed toward Gold.

“Over there. Stay with your dad.”

He wandered off in the wrong direction.

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I turned to see what he was doing and found him squatting to relieve himself.

Turning on the motorcycle’s headlight, I sped off.

The distance between Gold’s hiding spot and my territory felt endless on foot but was only moments by vehicle.

Of course, nothing in the apocalypse ever goes smoothly.

With a rustle, I removed the camouflaged tarp of dirt and gravel covering the garage entrance.

Whirrr—

The hydraulics groaned as the sloped entrance—slow but sturdy—began to open.

Clang! Clang!

I quickly checked the electric truck for any issues.

After pulling out the vehicle, I had to reverse the entire process to ensure my garage remained secure. Without it, I risked losing everything.

Today, however, luck was not on my side.

The truck’s battery was acting up.

I hadn’t used it much, yet the voltage was erratic.

The batteries I used daily for 365 days a year were perfectly fine, yet this rarely used truck’s battery decided to fail.

Perhaps those small South Korean manufacturers weren’t wrong about durability. I muttered to myself as I begrudgingly swapped out the battery.

Underneath the truck, I replaced the main battery and double-checked the voltage.

Normal.

Though the night was cold, the remnants of summer’s humidity left my forehead and back drenched in sweat.

I drank some water and used the restroom.

No matter how urgent the situation, preparation was critical.

After ensuring my weapons and emergency supplies were in order, I started the truck.

Since I was uncertain about the vehicle’s condition, I avoided steep slopes, taking a gentler route past the old home of Kim Elder and onto the road.

I left the headlights off.

My eyes were already adjusted to the dark, and I knew this area like the back of my hand.

To the north, a few lights were visible, but the south was almost entirely dark.

The southern region had been a battlefield, strategically evacuated by the government.

Most of the population from smaller administrative districts had been absorbed into nearby cities.

Though this created population pressure, it had been a necessary decision at the time to combat scattered crises.

Amid World War III-scale conflict, zombies, monsters, and mutations emerged, rendering small military and police units ineffective against the chaos.

What else could they have done as entire cities turned into zombie dens?

In the distance, a roar echoed.

Was it a mutated dog?

No, something else—something unknown.

Not only dogs mutated.

The Maya Language Board occasionally reported sightings of mutated boars, deer, crows, and even wildcats in the southern regions.

Particularly concerning were reports of mutated wildcats, confirmed through bounty notices posted on local boards.

This was uncharted territory for me. Strange creatures were to be expected.

But the sound I heard as I neared Gold’s location truly worried me.

Bark! Bark! Bark!

The growls of mutated dogs—several of them.

The sound pattern was familiar.

It was the noise they made while establishing hierarchy among themselves.

Could it be that the ones who had attacked Gold had returned?

It was possible.

Mutated creatures harbored a particular hatred for humans.

Some might have seen Gold interacting with me. Others could have followed me here.

Click.

I had no intention of retreating.

Whether Gold was alive or dead, I had to see him.

I owed him that much.

Though I wasn’t his parent, I had granted him a second chance at life.

After mentally noting my weapon’s location, I drove straight to the abandoned house where Gold lay.

In the headlight’s glow, massive shadows emerged.

Mutated dogs.

Momentarily blinded by the light, they froze, turning their heads toward me.

Five of them.

Among them were some I had seen before and others that were new.

I immediately got out and aimed my weapon at them.

But then—

Whimper.

The dogs began retreating, some even lowering their tails.

They didn’t seem to want a fight.

Growl!

Except for one.

A small silver-furred pup, barely half the size of the others, blood-soaked and baring its not-yet-fully-grown teeth, stood its ground, growling fiercely.

“Silver!”

Keeping the other dogs in my peripheral vision, I looked toward the pup.

Relief washed over me—Silver was alive.

And not mortally wounded.

The larger dogs slowly retreated into the shadows, their eyes glinting with a mix of wariness and submission.

There was no need to fire.

Though they had pushed Gold to the brink of death, they hadn’t gone after Silver’s life.

If they had, Silver would already be a shredded carcass.

They had merely tried to dominate him.

With the situation resolved, I cautiously approached Silver.

The pup, who had been bristling moments ago, immediately calmed, wagging his tail as if nothing had happened.

His bloodied head rested in my hand as I stroked him gently.

“Well done. You’re brave, aren’t you?”

Past Silver, I saw the abandoned house.

With a gnawing sense of unease, I stepped inside.

The buzzing of flies filled my ears, amplifying my discomfort.

In the darkness, in a corner of the ruined house, lay the massive form of Gold.

“Gold.”

He lifted his head slightly.

“...You’ve raised a good son.”

Gold let out a snort, seemingly proud.

His half-lidded eyes felt almost mocking.

I couldn’t help but smile.

“Let’s go. Home.”

Gold rose to his feet.

Something foul dripped from his body as he moved, but I didn’t look too closely.

Despite his gaunt frame and patchy fur, the moonlight gave his dirty coat a golden sheen, making him seem as regal as ever.

Gold climbed into the truck bed with effort.

Silver hesitated, seemingly afraid of the truck, despite his bravery against the other dogs.

I lifted him, careful not to strain my back.

A slipped disc in this era could be deadlier than cancer.

Finally, Silver joined his father in the truck bed, licking Gold’s wounds tenderly.

After one last check of the surroundings, I climbed into the driver’s seat.

The electric truck jerked slightly as I pressed the accelerator, carrying us home.

*

There was a time in China when I carried a dying comrade on my back.

She didn’t say a word, only burying her face against my back as she sobbed quietly.

By the time her tears and the warmth of her breath spread across my back, turning colder in the biting January air, I realized she had passed away.

It didn’t particularly strike me.

The weariness and apathy that clung to me like a phantom during those days in China only made me feel drowsy again.

Now, I find myself repeating a similar experience, albeit in a slightly peculiar form.

Instead of carrying a dying comrade, I’m using a truck.

And instead of a dying person, it’s a dying dog I’m transporting.

The emotions I feel now are different from back then.

It’s hard to describe—more like a sense of obligation, the feeling of doing what must be done.

The abstract concepts of parting or death don’t seem to occupy much of my thoughts.

A collapsed house loomed around the corner, standing in our path.

It was the place Gold had tried to enter when we first met.

Gold’s condition had deteriorated significantly since he climbed into the truck.

By the time we arrived, I had to help him get out.

But his weight was overwhelming, and in my haste to protect my back, I eased my grip too quickly, causing Gold to tumble to the ground.

“Oh no!”

His hind legs didn’t move.

Yet, with sheer determination, Gold dragged himself forward using only his front legs. Slowly but desperately, he made his way back to the house where he had been born and raised.

Watching him, a thought crossed my mind:

If this was the outcome, how was this any different from not helping him in the first place?

A so-called “economic” question, if you will.

But it wasn’t all for nothing, it seemed.

Beside Gold lay a treasure he had left behind.

That treasure licked the dying father’s face.

Gold, as if overcome with drowsiness, closed his eyes slowly before turning his head toward me.

For the briefest moment, I felt as though I heard a faint whisper of thanks.

And then, I quietly watched him close his eyes for the last time.

“...”

Strangely enough, I didn’t feel the same drowsiness I had back then.

It was odd.

In the heat of battlefields where thousands died every day, I often felt sleepy.

Yet here, in this quiet, serene place, not a trace of that fatigue emerged.

Silver raised his head high and let out a mournful howl.

As if bidding farewell to his departed father, he howled a few more times before approaching me.

I inspected Silver’s bloodied wounds, stroking his head, all the while gazing at my dog, who would never open his eyes again.

“...Your father was as brave and fearless as you.”

I didn’t plan to bury Gold.

He would remain here, in the house where he was born and raised, to decompose, turn to bones, and eventually disappear, following the old ways of his kin, the wolves.

*

I brought Silver back to the bunker.

There, I treated his wounds, gave him a light wash, and even provided a meal.

But this little guy turned out to be surprisingly picky.

He wouldn’t even touch frozen meat.

Sniffing at it, he pushed the entire bowl away with his paw.

Instead, he devoured the fresh meat I’d caught the day before with gusto.

Typical of a creature born and raised in the wild, I thought.

What should I do? Should I start hunting?

Judging by how Gold’s pack had survived, there must have been plenty of game in their territory.

To raise a creature this large, I’d have to hunt daily. But could I really adapt to such a lifestyle?

Then again, learning to hunt might not be a bad skill to have for long-term survival.

If I was going to care for him, hunting was non-negotiable.

But all of this turned out to be unnecessary.

The next day, Silver vanished like the wind.

All he left behind were a few tufts of fur, a different shade than his father’s. He chose freedom over human companionship.

It was the Defender siblings who unexpectedly brought news of him.

“Skelton, did you see the photo I sent? Even mutation dogs have puppies! Isn’t it adorable?”

The aerial photo she sent showed the mutation dog pack I’d encountered that night. Among them, a small silver-furred figure stood proudly.

Recalling the slightly dimwitted yet brave and proud pup, much like his father, I found myself smiling involuntarily.

“...Yeah, it’s cute.”

Even if humanity’s era came to an end, these creatures’ time wouldn’t.

For a moment, I imagined the lineage started by Gold eventually ruling over this peninsula.

Anonymous1532:

You should thank your dad. I feel like shooting you mutts on sight every day, but seeing your dad’s face keeps me from doing it.

To be honest, Gold’s offspring seemed more deserving of survival than most humans on our forum.

“...”

Tap, tap, tap.

SKELTON:

Worse than a dog.

“Ah.”

I had lost my composure.

The emotions Gold and Silver had stirred in me had led to an uncharacteristic outburst.

The reaction was instant.

Anonymous1532:

What? You little—? Did this mutt just insult me? Who the hell are you? Where do you live? Skelton? Skelton? You insect! Show your face, name, and location right now!

“...”

Well, I’d already started this. Might as well finish it.

SKELTON:

Your mom.

Anonymous1532:

You’re done! I’m sending soldiers and hackers to track you down and crush you!

SKELTON:

🖕

I’d added two more retorts.

A rare mistake for someone like me.

But the response was overwhelming. A flood of compliments poured in.

Foxgames:

Skelton! I unblocked you! Open your DMs, and I’ll give you a royal account!

rokagg:

Skelton, you legend!

Defender:

Suh-seobang!

Anonymous458:

LOL, legend!

mmmmmmmmm:

Oh, this guy knows how to play!

gijayangban:

Hmm... interesting.

Perhaps the courage to engage in these insults was Gold’s parting gift to me.

But good fortune never lasts.

The K-walkie emitted an unusual sound.

Sensing trouble, I checked the device.

It was Woo Min-hee.

“...”

I’m someone who thrives under pressure.

No matter the situation, I pride myself on remaining calm and making rational decisions.

Right now, that meant answering the call.

I took a deep breath, masking any tension, and responded casually.

“Hey, Min-hee! What’s up? Great weather we’re having, huh?”

“Senior, you’ve been online, right?”

“Nope, not at all.”

“Really?”

“Really. I haven’t been online.”

“Can I come visit your bunker?”

For a moment, I covered my mouth to stop myself from saying, “Why would you come when you’re not well?”

“Can I? Right? I can come, right?”

“There are... things at my place I’d rather not show anyone.”

“It’s fine. It’s fine. I just want to confirm something.”

“...”

This was bad. Very bad.