We opt to traverse the icy streets on foot rather than on electric bikes. Keeping a low profile is essential with the uptick in desperate survivors roaming for provisions.
Trudging carefully over the snowy sidewalks, we pass two corpses - a middle-aged couple, frozen in an embrace after apparently collapsing. Joon-ho hesitates as we draw alongside them.
"Infected?" he asks tersely.
I examine the bodies. No obvious wounds or signs of the raging virus. Likely simple starvation and hypothermia.
"Hard to say for sure," I reply. "But we can't rule out the contagion. And if they thaw, any dormant virus could reactivate..."
I let the implication hang. Joon-ho swallows hard but nods in understanding. In this new fragile ecology, the dead can spawn more death if left unchecked.
"I should prevent them turning. Just in case." He pulls out the short spear from his pack, approaching the frozen pair. His hand trembles briefly before he steels himself, driving the spearhead through the man's eye socket with a sickly crack.
Joon-ho steps back with a grimace as frostbitten gore clings to the spear tip. Without a word, I put one hand on his shoulder and squeeze briefly. He simply exhales and wipes the spear clean on the drifted snow before we continue on.
The frosted pharmacy comes into view down the next street, darkened and seemingly untouched still. But the hollowness in my own soul expands at this latest loss of former innocence. How casually we ensure the true dead remain dead, so the living can cling tighter to survival. But winter's harsh lessons propel evolution or extinction.
We quietly jimmy open the locked pharmacy doors without trouble. Inside, shelves sit fully stocked, a stark contrast to the ransacked stores and bare cupboards around the city.
Our flashlight beams scan the aisles. Whoever ran this place cleared out too rapidly when society unravelled to take their entire inventory along. Their loss is our gain.
We efficiently set about packing antibiotics, pain relievers, and other critical medicines into our packs. My blood thrums with satisfaction seeing our haul grow. These provisions mean our refuge stays healthy and protected through the harsh months ahead.
Finishing with the main store area, I peek into the back rooms in search of more supplies. The staff break room stands dark and lived-in, a contrast to the pristine sales floor. Evidence of the workers taking informal residence here through the chaos before finally fleeing the dying city.
A large piece of paper pinned by the small sofa catches my eye. Jooon-ho notices me studying it and draws near, shining a light over my shoulder at the handwritten letter.
My son,
Your mother was increasingly worried for our safety with the sickness spreading north. When her sister Jung-wha called saying Busan had secure government shelters, your mother insisted we flee there right away.
I closed the chemist hastily and we have travelled to Busan to take refuge. Jung-wha secured us placements at the main elderly shelter located in the Dadaepo gymnasium.
Pray this illness passes quickly. Seek out your Aunt Jung-wha when you arrive in Busan, and she will bring you to us at the shelter. Please come join us here, where it is guarded and safe.
Stay wise and safe, my son. We await you in Busan.
Your father
It's a plea from the chemist owner to his son - flee to the Busan shelter as the government ordered days earlier on the broadcasts, with hope of reuniting. Likely ignored advice judging by the undisturbed state of this place now.
But the futility of the note's optimism weighs on me in this lifeless store. My cynicism wonders how long those southern shelters lasted anyway amidst the better provisioned north's collapse. Perhaps a week or two at best before infection and panic overwhelmed anywhere promising refuge.
Our packs heavy with crucial medicine, Joon-ho and I prepare to depart the pharmacy. But then we hear approaching voices - a small group of survivors, chatting and laughing. We quickly extinguish our flashlights and hide behind the front counter.
Peering carefully around the corner, I spot two men with makeshift weapons and three women in thick winter garb passing by the pharmacy, their guards down oblivious to our presence.
"Yeah, Jae-sun has a whole setup in the town hall building," one man says. "Says he's gonna start a safe community for people fleeing from up north."
One woman shakes her head. "Doubt it'll last long. Government said everywhere would fall. But I guess having walls helps for now."
"Better than being out exposed and starving," another man replies as they move on down the snowy road. "If Jae-sun can get some farms going, I'll sign up..."
Alerted by voices nearing the pharmacy, Joon-ho and I quickly grab our supply bags and slip out the back exit. We duck behind a dumpster across the alley, watching through the falling snow as the survivor team approaches from up the street.
They slow, noticing the pharmacy's front entrance has been freshly jimmied open. "Someone's beat us here," hisses a tall woman, drawing a knife from her belt. The rest ready an array of blunt weapons and boards with nails as they creep towards the storefront.
We sink lower behind the metal dumpster, obscured from view but with a clear sightline as the five survivors enter the pharmacy one by one. A minute later, angry yells echo from inside.
"Every shelf's been cleaned out!"
"Track marks all through the dust here - two people, maybe three!"
"They can't have gone far. Look - foot trails aplenty in the new snow!"
Joon-ho tenses next to me hearing that last. Our boot prints leading around to here stand out obviously to any competent tracker. We exchange an urgent nod, eyes meeting with shared intent. As the scavenger group storms back outside, swinging weapons and peering around aggressively for perpetrators, we quietly sprint off down a side alley into the skeletal city.