Parricide (4)

A low ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠voice drifted out ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠quietly. My sister and I were pressed against the corner where the shoe cabinet used to be, holding our breath.

“I know you’re in there. Come out nice and quiet.”

It wasn’t a bluff. The front door was closed, but anyone sharp enough could spot the signs that a stranger had entered the space. The open door alone was proof enough. There were probably other tells I didn’t even know about.

“I don’t want to spill blood for nothing, so hurry up.”

Though the words sounded like a calm warning, my instincts screamed it was anything but. If we came out obediently, we’d die obediently and end up as zombie chow. Or worse.

But I had no idea what our odds were. My strength was at 2—stronger than before, sure—but I didn’t know exactly what that meant in real terms, and it definitely wasn’t enough to kill a person bare-handed with any ease.

What about Kang Ahyeon’s condition, then?

I lowered my gaze to meet my sister’s. She looked up at me with those calm brown eyes. There was no fear in them, but the absence of fear didn’t guarantee things would go smoothly.

An unknown intruder. Clearly armed, on guard, and radiating hostility. Worse, we’d already seen what he was capable of—the zombified woman and the neatly arranged chunks of human corpse in front of her. That was bait. Human parts processed to be easy for a zombie to eat. The gruesome sight made it painfully clear what would happen if we stepped out now.

And that was the last thing I wanted. I’d only just gotten the status window. My life was finally about to get good. I wasn’t about to be murdered by some ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠lunatic and turned into zombie feed.

So I kept eye contact with my sister and thought hard. Could we talk our way out of this? In zombie apocalypse movies, novels, and comics, survivors usually cooperate. Maybe I could somehow convince him we had a status window and bring him over to our side?

“I know you’re there. You really gonna pretend you didn’t hear me?”

No. That wasn’t going to work. The voice was already thick with hostility. On top of that, he clearly suspected we’d opened the veranda door and seen the zombie. With the government collapsed, there were no police left to worry about murder charges. We couldn’t report him either. But would someone like him really let fresh prey just walk away? Could a man who butchered people to feed zombies ever feel safe?

I made my decision and locked eyes with my sister again. The shadow was drawing closer. There were no kitchen knives left in the kitchen. Even though owning one might’ve been allowed, it was gone. He must have taken it. Whether for butchering, murder, or killing zombies, the point was he had a weapon.

We had a weapon too. Just one kitchen knife. We had the numbers advantage, but was a kitchen knife really all that bastard was carrying?

Even though hesitating wouldn’t change anything, I still hesitated. One wrong move and I was dead. Having a status window didn’t make me invincible. A zombie bite could kill me. A knife could kill me. A bullet could kill me. Unless my stats went up even more, maybe. So I had to be careful. Careful, but fast.

As I wavered, still staring into my sister’s eyes, she pressed the kitchen knife into my hand and stepped out from behind the cabinet before I could stop her. Her face was a perfect mask of terror—scared, trembling, starving. Some of it real. Some of it fake.

I glanced at her profile and pressed myself tighter against the wall.

“U-um… I didn’t come in with any bad intentions. It’s just… I’m so hungry….”

I understood her plan instantly. A distraction. She’d passed me the knife before stepping out. Smart. A woman would raise less suspicion than a man, and men were physically stronger. I held my breath and watched her performance.

Her long hair swayed in the draft coming from outside.

“You’re Mr. Jeong-ho, right?”

Jeong-ho. I hadn’t known the owner of room 808’s name. The man called Jeong-ho didn’t answer, but I caught my sister’s intent immediately.

“It’s me. I live in 807… Kang Ah-hyun….”

She spoke timidly, shyly, without hiding her fear. I couldn’t even tell how much was acting. Still, the shadow standing there didn’t move.

“M-mister…”

“Did you see?”

“S-see what?”

“The veranda door. It was open.”

“I-I didn’t look on purpose…”

“I asked if you saw it.”

My sister shut her mouth and took a step back. The mood had turned dangerous. My sister might be an idiot, but she had the face for this. So did I. So did our parents. We were the carefully bred offspring created for the cult leader’s pleasure—good-looking men and women paired up to produce children that suited his tastes. The result was us.

But the man in room 808 showed no sign of being tempted or hesitating at my sister’s face. He was already completely insane. It was hard for someone who chopped up humans to feed zombies to stay sane.

And that wasn’t all.

“M-mister… I’m scared… I’ll just leave. If you want, I won’t ever come back…”

It was the kind of crying voice that naturally softened people’s hearts. I’d fallen for it myself once and ended up in a fight I couldn’t win, my leg broken while pinned beneath her on the bed. Yet the man in 808 didn’t stop. The cleaver visible in his shadow glinted ominously. Yeah—if you could only carry one blade, might as well make it a big one.

I held my breath and kept the knife close to my body as the man spoke.

“You saw it, didn’t you?”

He crossed the living room and stopped in the kitchen, turning his head as if scanning the space.

“Should’ve left that damn cult ages ago.”

My sister backed up until she was against the front door. She didn’t touch the handle, careful not to provoke him, and didn’t glance in my direction.

“Girls like you who lived easy wouldn’t understand. I gave them everything—every last bit of property I had. And what did I get? This pathetic little apartment. Bugs all year round, boiling in summer, freezing in winter. They took it all.”

His voice was heavy with hollow despair.

“Spent most of every day working. My hands used to be nice. My wife’s hands are all ruined now… Fuck.”

He lowered his head and let out a long sigh. The middle-aged man, who probably hadn’t met a decent person in years, spoke bitterly.

“Mountain Seong my ass. You saw my wife, right? She doesn’t even recognize her own husband anymore. If I’d known it’d turn out like this, I never would’ve come. I would’ve lasted longer outside.”

He wasn’t wrong. The outbreak that started here had nowhere to flee, so it burned hotter. There were already countless zombies just on the eighth floor. If someone hadn’t blocked the stairs, there would’ve been even more.

The middle-aged man named Jeong-ho who lived in 808 had kept caring for his wife even after she turned.

“M-mister… please spare me… I was wrong…”

Even when Kang Ahyeon pleaded with a tear-choked voice, he didn’t listen.

“Where’s your brother? Your parents? Dead? Or bitten?”

“I-I don’t know… please…”

“Cut the bullshit. If you’re not going to eat it, wouldn’t it be better if someone did?”

He remained eerily calm as he walked past me. He didn’t see me. I knew why immediately—the bandage covering the right side of my face, crossing over my eye. My heart hammered.

I gripped the knife handle with my right hand and braced my left behind it.

“If you won’t talk, I guess there’s no choice.”

The middle-aged man raised the cleaver in a firm grip. Kang Ahyeon froze in apparent terror.

The entrance. A narrow space. Not ideal for swinging a blade. Stabbing downward might be difficult, but a thrust would work fine.

I matched his step, twisted my whole body, and drove the kitchen knife forward. Not into the backpack-covered back, but slightly lower—into the exposed left side of his waist.

Crunch!

The sensation racing up my arm made every hair on my body stand up. The feeling of ripping through living flesh was completely alien. I couldn’t tell exactly where the blade had struck. Should I have aimed higher? The neck? The head? I didn’t know.

The man froze the instant the blade sank in. I heard the resident of room 808 gasp. My wrist throbbed. The knife rattled. He turned to look at me with a face twisted in terror. The same man who had acted like a deranged killer moments ago was now terrified by the steel buried deep in his body.

A cold shiver raced down my spine. My body trembled. I shoved forward with my whole weight to keep the knife from being pulled out. His hand fumbled at my wrist, trying to yank the blade free. The strength was surprising, but I didn’t need to worry.

By then my sister had already picked up the cleaver he’d dropped. She wiped her tears, then slowly drew the blade across the middle-aged man’s nape.

Shhhk.

A small, undramatic sound. Like slowly slicing paper. But unlike the sound, the man who had gone still from my stab began to shudder violently. He clutched his throat as blood gushed out in thick spurts. With the kitchen knife still buried deep in his back, he collapsed to the floor and twitched.

My sister wrenched the knife free from his waist with a strong pull, sniffled, and wiped her eyes.

“Sniff.”

The middle-aged man, who had been coughing and jerking violently when the knife came out, soon stopped moving altogether. All that remained was an ugly, blood-soaked corpse and the thick backpack on his back.

I met my ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠sister’s eyes and carefully slid the backpack off him. It was heavy, clearly stuffed full. The contents were food. Choco Pies, snacks, cup ramen, biscuits, instant rice, canned ham—various provisions.