Baekdu Daegan Global Seed Vault (3)
The hand axe had neatly split the skull, with half the blade buried in it.
That would've been instant death.
I wedged the boot of my combat gear under his side and flipped the corpse over. The face, midway through decay, turned toward me. Click. A light tap on the jaw with my boot popped the mouth open with the clack of bone on bone. I peered inside with the muzzle flashlight.
"Died fully human."
Walkers show noticeable mutations on the outside too, but in advanced decay, they're hard to distinguish from regular corpses. The surefire way in cases like this is to check the mouth. Teeth and jaws are the first to change from infection, and the alterations are dramatic. The one I'd stepped on had neat teeth, even a few gold fillings.
So it was murder?
"Probably."
Artemis had been through plenty of real combat with me, but this was likely her first brush with humans slaughtering their own.
Splash. A bit deeper in, water pooled on the floor.
Leak in the sprinkler pipes.
Following my shoulder cam's view, I spotted water trickling steadily from a red pipe overhead. Slow but relentless, raising the floor level bit by bit.
Good thing we got here in time.
Power's on the brink, water's rising. Another month, and we'd have lost all these precious seeds to rot.
"No maintenance means it's about time for things to go haywire. Lucky it didn't get worse than this." Another reason to accelerate the schedule. Facilities untouched by human hands would only degrade further.
The storage vault was lined with containers labeled by species and classification codes. Not every seed on Earth, but every major representative from the plant kingdom was here without fail. Fruits and veggies, grains and legumes, flowers and trees—even weeds for lawns. This was life's ark. Puzzle pieces for rebuilding a world fouled by infection and scorched by nukes.
I stopped in front of one freezer. Inside were countless flat trays like mini CD cases. Animal embryos. I pulled one out. The label read a prime dairy breed.
"Holstein."
My shoulder cam zoomed on the tadpole-like embryo.
Not a fan of synthetic milk? Craving the real deal?
"Nah. I missed that moo~ What if we set up a little ranch-cum-zoo in the Shelter? We've got tons of hydroponics hay going to waste. The residents would love it."
Cows chomping dried hay—pure therapy for the soul.
I slotted the embryo case back and nodded to the robot waiting behind. It started transferring them to the portable cryo units we'd hauled in by chopper. I'd braced for at least a couple fights, but the interior was eerily peaceful. Not a single Infected in sight.
Found another researcher's body.
Artemis guided me to the deepest storage room. The door handle was smashed—probably forced open. Inside, a corpse slumped deep in a chair.
"This one..."
An awl was stabbed between the ribs. Missed vitals, but without immediate care, fatal. Now, with most flesh rotted, even a nudge might scatter the bones.
"Senior Researcher Park Il-hwan."
His ID badge around the neck confirmed it. Scattered nearby: piles of sleeping pills.
Found his post-infection war journal.
Handwritten. Entries showed that when the infection war's fallout hit the central region, this place sealed like our Shelter. But where we had everything, they had nothing. The log brimmed with terror, anxiety, deprivation.
First entry. No idea how long it's been since the world drowned in monsters and flames. Just three of us left, including me: newbie Ji-hye and my colleague Young-chul. Director, deputy, everyone else—all gone to protect family. There was one more researcher, but 'that' isn't human anymore. Barely locked it in the test cultivation room, but in hindsight, bad call. Could've used the gear inside to irrigate from the fire hydrants and try indoor farming. Now it's contaminated. Pointless.
Second entry. Situation deteriorating fast. Food won't last a week. Tensions rising. Nearly fought over a spoon clinking a tray. My warning that monsters outside might hear calmed them. No clue how much longer.
But we must protect the seeds, no matter what.
Third entry. Outside's quiet now. Inside's not. What started as bickering turned to fists. Stopped it only after Ji-hye's nose was smashed, blood pouring. Young-chul stared at his bloody hands in disbelief. We're all going mad here. Outside's quiet but not safe. External cams show grotesque shapes everywhere.
Fourth entry. Food ran out. Ages ago. No contact or rescue from outside. Young-chul eyes the seed vault hungrily.
Fifth. Woke to find Ji-hye gone. She'd unsealed and fled, leaving the door open. Found her 200 meters away, swarmed by strays. Meal nearly done—crunching bones for marrow, audible from afar. The pack eyed me like I was dessert. Ran for my life. Slammed the vault door just as the mutating horror charged. Thud! Thud! Still hear it slamming the bulkhead.
Sixth. Fought Young-chul. Starvation broke him—he was devouring the seeds we'd sworn to protect. Hundreds already in his gut, chomped like a savage.
Seventh. I'm the last survivor. When he hit 2,000 seeds and went for the embryo disks, I decided to subdue him. But bad luck piled on—starvation tremors, neurosis. Meant to tie him; ended in murder. Beginner's luck: first axe swing cleaved his skull clean. His awl got my side, buried to the hilt—can't pull it. Monsters still prowl outside. Radio says no rescue coming, and this wound won't last days. But I saved the remaining seeds. May they reach hands that use them well. Belly full. Sleepy. Didn't know sleeping pills tasted this good. At least go stuffed.
"..."
I gently laid his body from the sofa to the floor, hands folded on his chest.
Found a dormant Walker in the cultivation test room. Door's locked.
The one from the journal.
"Leave it."
Easy to kill, but no contamination risk during seed and embryo recovery.
But the world doesn't play nice.
Three Slave Cows approaching fast.
Drawn by chopper noise? We'd prefixed heavily domesticated infected beasts with "Slave"—Slave Dog for dogs, Slave Cow for cattle. Reflects how civilization-bound critters mutate more readily.
The two guard bots went combat-ready. PDA shared their feeds. Massive as vans, the Slave Cows charged, shaking the view. Swollen muscles burst skin in places, exposing raw red fibers like an anatomy chart. Why early infected beasts were dubbed "zombie [animal]."
But those muscles throbbed with life. Once gentle cow eyes now gleamed with meat hunger. Hideous facial distortions twisted every feature irregularly. Rage poured unnaturally from the gaps, like violence force-injected to thwart any return to innocence.
At 100 meters, they bellowed—not fury, but agony-screams. Cut short by 12.7mm lead. 5.56 might not have stopped the charge.
Clear. No other threats nearby.
I shifted focus from the PDA, moved the senior researcher to the on-duty cot. Gathered a few personal effects as mementos. Work wrapped quick; burial next to the vault. As bots placed the body in the pit and raised shovels, birds exploded from nearby woods.
Krunch! Hundreds of meters off, the mountaintop shook. Trees toppled in sequence from the green ridge.
"Abort! Everyone aboard!"
Chopper spooled up a beat ahead of me, rotors thumping loud. Crunch! More trees down—ten already tumbling our way.
Bots on the chopper aimed 12.7mm rifles. Two shifted to the miniguns, ready to fire.
At 5 meters up, it was under 200 meters out. Snap! Motion halted. A ripping roar hit us—drunk hooligan yell mashed with gorilla bellow. Through the trees: seven watermelon-sized red eyes. Slowly tracking our ascent. Chills. If these were human troops, panic fire inevitable.
Too late to engage? 'It' crashed away through trees soon after. Never saw beyond the eyes.
Relief short-lived. The uncovered grave: senior researcher's exposed corpse. Nearby, the Slave Dog pack from the journal slunk closer.
"Sorry. You deserved better."
Nothing we could do now. They reached the body, leaping into the pit one by one.