Search and Destroy (2)

Thwuck... plop. I yanked the bolts from its forehead and eye socket, swung them through the air to shake off the sticky fluids, and was about to reload my crossbow when my aunt Hye-yeon's cautious voice drifted from inside the apartment.

"Minwoo, you okay in there?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

She'd heard the noise from that mumbling zombie and was checking on me out of worry. I assured her I was good, told her to keep the door shut one more time, finished reloading, and checked the scanning screen—just in case the sound had drawn any zombies.

My eyes quickly scanned the phone strapped to my left forearm. The map and info panel showed the zombie count had dropped by one—no other changes. Good thing. If three or four had come shambling over from the noise, I'd have bolted back inside and waited them out. I wasn't skilled enough with zombies yet. Three at once was my limit with my current abilities.

Hmm... maybe even just two?

If I fuck up midway, I'd just get mauled.

A moment later, I wrapped up my thoughts and pressed the volume and power buttons on my phone for about three seconds.

'Hacking...' appeared on the screen along with a spy logo. I brought the phone near the door lock of apartment 704.

Whirr... click. The motor turned without the usual unlock chime, and the door slid smoothly open.

This thing's way better than I thought.

The Hacking skill I'd bought for 50 MP was worth every point. I muffled my combat boots as much as possible and stepped into the entryway. That's when 'beginner's luck' ran out, and trouble found me.

"Kerrr... grrr! Woof woof!"

"Kiiieeeek!!"

No sooner had the door shut than a Shiba Inu shuffling from the kitchen into the living room locked eyes with me. Its left side exposed cracked ribs, and the moment it spotted me, it sprayed dark brown drool while barking madly—Shiba zombie, or whatever. Then the tattered master bedroom door burst open, revealing a female zombie with a chunk of thigh missing.

Fuck... no intel on a dog?

I'd figured only the young wife who'd infected the mumbling neighbor guy would be here. But out of nowhere, this random Shiba appeared. Shock hit me for a second, but my skill-boosted brain kicked into gear, plotting countermeasures.

I aimed the crossbow at the closer one—the Shiba that looked ready to lunge.

Its black eyes flashed, and like they'd coordinated, both charged at once.

Tap-tat-tat! Thud-thud-thud!

Claws and filthy paws scraped closer. At that speed, they'd be on me in under two seconds. But my breathing stayed steady, my grip rock-solid. As the Shiba entered two meters, my right index finger smoothly squeezed the trigger like before.

Twang! Thunk!

The bolt flew straight... but then shit got weird. Right before the tip hit its eye, it leaped and ducked its head. The bolt pierced its black eyeball but skewered the back of its neck instead of the brain.

"Shit!"

"Grrraaak!"

Crash! No time to finish the tumbling Shiba—the former neighbor launched from behind.

"Guweeeek!"

Clack-clack-clack! Black veiny arms outstretched, jumpsuit neckline exposed, gore-crusted teeth aimed at my throat.

Crack!! Thud...

"Grrrl..."

I desperately swung the rifle stock to smash its jaw aside. Then the Shiba, back on its feet, lunged at my left shin.

That's when I didn't pull back—instead, I offered my leg, dropped the crossbow...

Shing... and drew the knife from my belt.

Woof! Crunch!

The Shiba sank its fangs into my leg with smug glee. Pressure hit my shin... but no piercing pain. Confusion spread across its face. No wonder—its teeth couldn't puncture the suit, just scratched the tough fibers. Plus my magazine shin guard? Not a drop of blood or drool touched my skin.

Next instant, my gloved left hand clamped its scruff. The knife in my right plunged behind its jaw hinge.

Squelch!!

"Kerrhk!..."

The blade's tip sliced deep into its skull, cleaving the brain. It foamed at the mouth, jaws slackening. As it collapsed, I yanked the knife free, stomped the bolt-pierced head, and crushed it under my boot.

Splurt... squish!!

Through the sole, I felt bone shatter and gooey mush compress. Sensations I'd never experience outside the apocalypse. Before any disgust could ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hit, my mind shifted to the remaining female zombie.

Her half-smashed jaw dangling, she staggered up.

…

"Hoo..."

The once-annoying neighbor. I kicked her chest down, mounted her, and stabbed through the eye. First close-quarters kill in the apocalypse—done.

Unexpected Shiba, its ducking dodge, mishaps aside... suit just stained black with blood and goo, no injuries. Solid debut(?).

Moments later, as I pulled the knife from the corpse and stood, my forearm phone buzzed repeatedly.

Achievements for handling the zombie dog and both infectees at once. Quest ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠update popped up. Then I remembered the scan hadn't picked up the Shiba. I double-checked the details.

One line I'd glossed over caught my eye:

[...For zombie lifeforms, only those directly witnessed or contacted by the user are detected by scanning. Higher scan levels auto-register some lifeforms.]

Life lesson reaffirmed: always read the fine print.

…

After clearing floor 7 where my ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠place was, I secured floor 8 next—no zombies detected.

Both dual-income couples.

Photos and tidy interiors confirmed they'd been empty from the start. Now for floor 6 with its three zombies.

But a snag: Scan showed both 603 and 604 doors ajar, and the three zombies glued together nonstop.

What the hell...

Couldn't picture it. Ready to bail if needed, I crept down to floor 6, past the mumbling zombie corpse on 7, boots silent on the stairs. Bloodstains everywhere on 6.

Then... a sight beyond comprehension, shocking even me with Fear Immunity. My head reeled.

Crunch crunch

"Guweeek."

"Krfurh!"

"Kerrrrk."

"Urk! Chew..."

Three male zombies, limbs bound together with leather restraints—clearly mid-'adult playtime.' Whip marks on discolored skin suggested ambushed during fun with their mistress.

So where's the playmate, and why's 604 open?

Couldn't piece it together. I decided to handle priorities first.

Stab! Stab! Stab!

End.