Securing contingency shelters

Joon-ho and I finalise defence protocols before attempting rest. The perimeter remains secure; surveillance feeds show rural pre-dawn stillness through night vision lenses. Our haven awaits siege that experience warns fast approaches.

Joon-ho retires first while I update operational logs and scan newsband channels awash increasingly with vague warnings - "unexplained violent incidents" in urban zones, citizens urged to remain in their residences, speculation about psychological epidemics and induced hysteria when the true scope remains obscured.

I mute the broadcasts, having no need to hear paraphrasing of the obvious - biological tipping points have breached quarantines, outbreak tracing fails perpetually two steps behind spread vectors, and infrastructural sinew groans toward snapping inevitability.

Still, knowledge compels consolidating a final briefing to fully convey what Joon-ho faces, allying his survival to my prognostic cause. A pulse weapon may stop hearts, but the virus consumes souls.

He arrives mid-morning expecting a regular strategy meeting. But I motion him to sit opposite me, letting silence focus full weight before starting my forensic reveal.

"Before chaos fully erupts, you should understand physically what we soon face beyond statistics or clinical terms from newscasts." I meet his eyes unrelenting. "The infected...they become shell hosts with singular drive - to consume living flesh or transfer contagion violently. No treatments restore former conscious selves."

I outline step-by-step - initial transmission through fluids, analogous to rabies vectors. Then, proliferation incubation lapses a victim from common early symptoms toward brain stem reprogramming into a primitive predatory being with negligible remnants of former identity.

No appeals influence them once they urge commandeer toward frenzied feeding. They devolve rapidly into ambulatory cadavers driven by one compulsion, no pain or injuries deterring them until nervous system destruction or physical incapacity.

"Another critical threat - the infected tend to amass in large groups, a swarm herd mentality that converges toward perceived food sources. If we observe clusters becoming sizable enough to threaten security, immediate, forceful dispersal is essential before momentum gathers."

"Head trauma eliminates motor functions quickest during assaults." I continue detailing tactics and vulnerabilities. But the primal horror of a packed seething mass of insatiable infected battering gates is now firmly impressed upon us both. United we must stand bulwark then without hesitation or be utterly overwhelmed by the plague-made ravenous flesh.

Joon-ho remains quiet throughout the description, likely envisioning formerly known faces sunken to lightless voids now clawing without recognition at defensive gates. These would not arrive sympathetic souls pleading sanctuary, but automatons viewing our redoubt only as a locus to swarm for more flesh added to their number.

"You mentioned cities eventually overwhelmed during prior cycles..." He looks up haunted. "Then other desperate refugees will follow, surely?"

I nod. "Indeed. But the rules likewise apply that mercy or benefit-of-doubt no longer exists externally. Those fleeing urban collapse will migrate toward any perceived safehold by any means...even aligning expediently with active threats to improve their odds incrementally."

I outline common machinations bands utilised previously exploiting moral sympathies to infiltrate fortification perimeters during my solitary sieges. Feigned illnesses. Engineered crises. Trojan sacrifices. Such ruses worked predictably whenever survival chased ethics away.

After I finish the grim breakdown of the virus and its savage effects, Joon-ho remains solemnly thoughtful for awhile. Eventually, he looks up to pose a question:

"I understand the need to secure contingency shelters, but why specifically choose an apartment habitation so deep in the lowland village? Would not the higher foothills serve better isolation from both zombies and desperate scavengers in time?"

I nod at his sound tactics. "Indeed, elevation and obstruction would logically improve security overall in normal disaster scenarios. But a unique threat emerges with the infected that changes shelter considerations."

I detail the tragic progression within the dense urban towers as the outbreak cripples systems and trapped uninfected try vainly to wait it out, barricaded inside their units until resources deplete, then begin raiding neighbouring ones in desperate waves. Infection spreads virally through common vertical shafts and shared airflows.

"Many bitten retreat back into their own units afterwards to die and reanimate as zombies themselves. So, the puissant residential towers essentially fill floor by floor with trapped infected. Most survivors wouldn't risk searching them by the end phase. And uppermost levels receive the least traffic being most remote."

I finish explaining how the units higher up become largely ignored vertical sarcophagi hauntingly 'reserved' for the restless ambulatory dead wandering the dusty uptown avenues. The perfect place to discretely hide contingency supplies and shelter, knowing most other desperate scavengers will have fully avoided those vertical grave sites.

"There's one more thing we need to consider - an emergency shelter in Busan."

Joon-ho looks up, puzzled by the specificity. "Why Busan?"

"It's just in case Busan becomes a focal point for survivors in the future," I explain. "Based on my previous lives, Busan was the location where the survivors gathered and fought against the infected. It's strategic, given its geographical location, access to resources, and defensible positions. If we find ourselves needing to relocate or if we need to assist in a larger scale survival effort, having a secure position in Busan could be invaluable."

Joon-ho nods slowly, absorbing the information. "That makes sense. A pre-established safe haven could offer a significant advantage in the chaos that follows."

"Exactly," I affirm. 

Joon-ho ponders this bleak image and then nods. "Very well, your strategy offers grim cogency as always. We shall pray such backups to prove unnecessary, yet still let down ropes if needed for these overlook quarters to avail rapid escapes."

His words carry new resonance, visualising now corpses indeed left staggering those highest tragic floors awaiting rare footfalls...like our own someday, perhaps, he imagines fleetingly. But quickly, we refocus on the living days still remaining.

After we finished planning for the next few days, Joon-ho went to sleep early to prepare for another busy day tomorrow. We shake hands silently, knowing that we still face many uncertainties in this crisis. But we are together, ready to face whatever comes next.

I walk alone alongside the high walls, with the wind around me and lights shining below in the darkness. These lights will guide us through the tough times that may lie ahead, possibly even the collapse of society.

As I walk, I reflect on the events of my previous life. I keep thinking about Taesung. He doesn't know me, but I remember him from before everything changed.

Where is he now? What is his job? Will he become a leader of survivors again? Will I encounter him?

If our paths ever cross, it might lead to conflict. His face will be one among many in these troubled times.

I sigh deeply into the night. Taesung, unaware of what the future holds, might also be reflecting tonight. I hope that, somehow, our paths might lead to reconciliation before it's too late for everyone. But many things need to change before that's possible.