Parricide (2)

I must have finally lost my mind. To be seeing shit like this.

It made sense, though. The world had ended, monsters that ate people were roaming outside, and my parents had just been murdered by my little sister. Or, judging by how dried the blood was, it had been a while.

I looked down at my sister, still kneeling. She gripped the kitchen knife in one hand—the same sister who had smiled as she followed me. It was dangerous, sure, but none of it felt real. Even the window floating in front of me didn’t feel real. And through all of that, my stomach growled with honest hunger.

“...Ah, fuck. Laughing made me starving.”

My sister smiled back, surprisingly calm. “Me too… Oppa, don’t you have any food hidden somewhere?”

“Would I? I threw it all out. What about you?”

She shook her head. Of course not. She’d always been pointlessly devout.

The words floating in front of me seemed to be saying: if you want to eat, if you want to live, move while you still have the strength.

It wasn’t wrong. The numbness made the decision easy.

“...Hey, Kang Ahyeon.”

“Yeah?”

“Let’s go outside.”

“Eung?”

“We can’t just starve to death.”

The longer we waited, the worse our odds became. I wasn’t the only one thinking this. Someone out there was already gathering and stockpiling food. Not every human in this cult apartment was a complete idiot. It was safer to assume some of them had acted rationally. Those people might be right here on the eighth floor. The more we dawdled, the smaller our chance of securing real food. And what about our bodies weakening from malnutrition?

If we were going to move, it had to be now—while we still had strength, while the obstacles that could block us were lying dead, while the shock and unreality still protected us.

I thought about games, novels, manga, anime, movies. How did the characters usually act? I didn’t waste time pondering. There wasn’t any to waste.

“First—”

BANG!

Something slammed against the front door. My sister and I froze at the same time and stared at it.

Bang. Bang!

The knocking grew faster. Then came the dragging footsteps, the shuffling, the growing crowd of presence gathering right outside. They pounded on the door like they wanted in. The knocks sped up. The door rattled. The faint daylight through the peephole vanished. Something was pressed flat against it. Countless bodies leaned in, making the door creak. It wouldn’t break immediately, but we couldn’t leave.

Why had they gathered so suddenly? The answer wasn’t far.

The corpses of our parents.

“...The screaming.”

Even with all their talk of the Rapture, they’d still been afraid to die. I hadn’t realized it when I first woke up, but what had pulled me from sleep was my parents’ screams. The screams of people being stabbed to death. Things that had starved longer than us and could barely move still had strong lungs. Thanks to that, we were now trapped.

I had no idea how intelligent these zombies were, how they moved, or what their behavior patterns looked like. But if they had insect-level intelligence like in the movies, then pounding on the door like this couldn’t be good. If they gathered at noise and didn’t disperse naturally—if they kept our door blocked—food would be nothing but a dream. My sister and I, with nothing to eat inside, would stay locked in here until we starved.

Just imagining it made my hands tremble. So what now?

The thought hit me and I whipped my head toward the veranda. The living room still held the washing machine and the black plastic bag overflowing with ashtrays and cigarette butts from our chain-smoking parents. Opening the veranda window let in a refreshing mountain breeze. It was the only thing I liked about this apartment—the open view, the mountain worthy of the name Sion Mountain Fortress. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Sure, it was full of bugs in summer, but everything has its downsides. In this shitty house, bugs were the least of my concerns. I actually liked being able to see the wide-open mountain. It turned pure white in winter and burned with sunset colors in autumn.

But that wasn’t what I needed to look at right now.

I checked the neighboring unit. Ours was 807. First I looked toward 808. The veranda was closed. I carefully reached out to knock, missed, and clapped instead.

Thud. Thud thud thud thud!

The veranda window rattled in response. Even stretching my neck, I could barely see, but the faint blood splatter told the story. Zombie.

Then the other side. 806. I carefully poked my head out and looked. No reaction to the clapping. There could be someone hiding inside, or a zombie that couldn’t respond for some reason. But I couldn’t afford to hesitate.

I turned to Kang Ahyeon, who had followed me. She still held the kitchen knife. The red blade was soaked with our parents’ blood. But one knife wasn’t enough for us to fight a horde. If we had a gun, maybe. We didn’t. After three days of starvation, strength didn’t come easily. Still, staying put meant dying like dogs. Starve to death, or die trying something.

I didn’t expect the government to rescue us. Sion Mountain Fortress had been built for self-sufficiency after the Rapture. This place would be low priority. They might not come at all. There hadn’t been any news about martial law being lifted or what the government was even doing. So it was every man for himself. To survive, I had to move.

“Hey, Kang Ahyeon.”

I looked into her blinking eyes and gave the order.

“When I cross over, wait by our front door. When I give the signal, come out and close the neighbor’s door.”

“The neighbor’s?”

“806. Not 808.”

Even while I gestured, she stayed strangely quiet. In the past she would have thrown a fit, crying and clinging. Maybe the unreality had gotten to her. I wasn’t much different. It made sense—this plan was completely insane. Success depended entirely on my sister. Kang Ahyeon had to carry out my instructions perfectly and without fear. If she failed, I died. If she got scared and didn’t come out, if she was even a second late, I died. One mistake and we both died—or she died. Even if everything went wrong in ways I couldn’t predict, death was certain. I already knew the shapes it could take: bitten and turned, eaten alive while screaming until the screams stopped, or falling from the veranda for any stupid reason.

I hated all of them. Just thinking about dying made me want to freeze, but—

The window in the corner of my vision stole away the last traces of reality. It felt like a game. In a situation where I had to eat or die, it helped. Who cared if it was delusion or hallucination?

I spoke to her again. “Tell me what I said. What do you have to do?”

“...When Oppa crosses, wait by the front door, and when you signal, go out and close the 806 door?”

“Right. Repeat it a few more times. Burn it into your memory.”

She was an idiot, but she studied well. Memorization was her strong suit. And she had enough sense to know this wasn’t the time to fight me. Holding the bloody knife, she obediently muttered the steps without pride—front door, close it, like that.

“Don’t get bitten. If you open the hallway door and there are more zombies, don’t come out. Just stay inside and lock the door. If you do get bitten…”

I trailed off, but she already knew.

“Oppa will kill me, right?”

“...”

“I’d rather you kill me while I’m still human. That way you’ll remember me forever, won’t you?”

“Bullshit. I’ll forget right away.”

“Ah… I like that face. It’s the first time I’ve seen Oppa make an expression like that.”

I looked away from my grinning little sister and turned back to the veranda. The gap between units wasn’t far—the building was cheap. A drainpipe ran down the middle with decent ridges. If I didn’t screw up, I could make it.

“If I turn into a zombie, I’ll jump. Just so you know.”

“Ah, that won’t do.”

Kang Ahyeon smiled with eerie composure. She had clearly gone insane. In a crazy world, it fit.

I took a deep breath and stepped out onto the veranda. I placed my foot on the drainpipe. I still couldn’t fully register what I was doing. Eighth floor. I wasn’t a manga protagonist. I knew falling meant death. Yet I moved like something had possessed me. I grabbed the pipe, stepped across, gripped the window sill, and slipped through the conveniently open window.

Crash!

“Ugh!”

It lasted only a second. My foot slipped. I hit the floor with a loud thud. My body throbbed. My forehead felt swollen where it had struck. The leg that scraped against the sill burned and ached, but fear swallowed everything else.

Fuck. The curse slipped out as I raised my head. If there was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a zombie in 806—

The house was empty. Not a single trace that anyone had ever lived here. I stood up, relieved.

Had my sister gone to the front door? I steadied my limping leg and moved toward the entrance. The empty unit was identical to ours, like a mirror image. Standing there, I repeated the stakes to myself. Failure meant death. Bitten and turned. Eaten alive. Slipping from the veranda and falling. I had already slipped once. The pain had brought reality crashing back. My breath came short. I hadn’t even done anything yet.

I checked outside through the peephole. A zombie appeared at ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the far left edge. How wide was the viewing angle? I didn’t know. But if I could see it, it was close enough. Assume the worst. My life was on the line; I couldn’t half-ass this.

I took a deep breath and gripped the doorknob, trying to stay silent. I worried the earlier noise might have drawn the zombie closer, but it hadn’t. The distance must have been enough. It hadn’t been as loud as the screaming. I calmed myself. The plan hadn’t changed. Open the door, shout, give the signal, run for the veranda. The rest was up to my sister.

I tightened my grip on the knob—then realized I hadn’t set the actual signal.

What if I shouted and she opened the door at the same time? What if zombies tore into both of us side by side? What if they poured into our unit while I was still crossing?

Tell her now? Set the signal now? Go back to the veranda and call her? But shouting would only draw them.

No. This was stupid. My brain really had frozen from hunger. I had ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠realized the same thing while crossing. I couldn’t repeat this. It had to be now. If I failed now, the odds would drop to nothing.

I forced my fear-stiffened body to relax, pushing down the rising terror. Suppressing fear was familiar. It felt like standing in front of the cult leader. I steadied my mind, closed my eyes tight, then opened them. I cleared my throat, twisted the knob hard, and threw the door open.

“Kang Ahyeon—!”

I thought I heard the phantom sound of another doorknob turning beneath my shout. I kept yelling as I spun.

“Don’t open it yeeet—!”

Would it reach her? Would she understand? I didn’t know. I just ran.

The zombies all turned at once and lunged. They chased after me in a frenzy. Fuck. Fuck. These bastards could run?

I turned and sprinted. My injured leg screamed with every step. I clenched my teeth. The mountain breeze hit my face as I raced for the open veranda window.

Thud!

The moment I slammed the door between hallway and living room, I heard bodies crashing against it. Fucking hell. Really.

With a hollow laugh, I even closed the veranda door. Thuds, crashes, the sound of breaking glass, zombies tumbling, blood spraying, starving monsters with corpse-like faces charging.

Holding my breath, I stepped onto the veranda sill and reached for the drainpipe—then felt my foot slip.

A falling sensation hit me, as if my heart and every organ were dropping straight to the ground far below. I swallowed hard.

Ah, fuck.

My body staggered. Time seemed to slow. Was I really dying like this? It was so pathetic I had no words. My parents’ deaths seemed better by comparison. It was the kind of thing that deserved a hollow laugh, but I didn’t have time left to laugh.

My slipping body tilted outward. The zombies smashing through the veranda door drew closer, flinging blood. My outstretched hand tilted further. My body waited for free fall.

In that slowed moment, I rolled my eyes. Pure instinct moved me. What I needed to survive right now. The answer burned in my heated mind.

The status window I had believed was nothing but illusion, delusion, or madness vanished. In its place, I felt a new kind of power surge into my falling body. At the last instant, I grabbed the veranda frame. I twisted using the fresh strength. It was power. Pure physical power had increased. Strength I shouldn’t have had while starving. Enough to do pull-ups easily.

I had lost my balance. But it was fine. At the moment I should have fallen, I caught our own veranda sill, stepped on the ridges of the drainpipe, and jumped. I landed on the veranda of 807—our house.

Crash!

The instant I crossed the sill my legs gave out and I rolled across the floor, but the joy that flooded me was strong enough to drown the pain.

A status window. Something only the protagonist of the world should have. But the joy was short-lived. The open front door caught my eye. It was wide open.

I stood up, tense. A long shadow stretched across the entrance.

Thud!

The sound of the door closing. The figure that stepped into view, breathing hard, wasn’t a zombie.

It was Kang Ahyeon. My little sister, holding the blood-drenched kitchen knife.

Thud thud thud thud thud thud!

While listening to the insane pounding against the 806 door, I collapsed onto the veranda and burst out laughing.