The Tooth Collector (3)
Sang-goo pulled out the laser scalpel Jang Sun-woo had given him. He'd used it a handful of times himself — a piece of equipment packed to the brim with cutting-edge technology.
First, he washed his hands and the wound site, then applied a nano anesthetic patch. The micro-needles it discharged blocked the nerves in an instant, settling the boy's pain into silence.
"Can you switch to surgical light mode?"
Little Dog leaned in, training a focused white beam on the boy's chest. At the same time, a blue grid laser projected from the robot dog's back swept across the thorax in real time, building a 3D anatomical map.
Sang-goo took the laser scalpel to the mid-axillary line of the boy's armpit, slicing thinly through the fifth intercostal space — between the ribs. It was a naturally low-bleeding area to begin with, and with the laser scalpel and anesthetic patch together, it was flawless. He then pushed forceps in to spread the intercostal muscle apart.
Thanks to Little's hologram, he was able to enter precisely up to the pleura without so much as grazing the lung tissue. The moment he touched the pleural membrane, he felt a small pop of resistance at his fingertips as the membrane burst.
Psssshhhhaaah—!
Sharp, high-pressure air hissed out — air that had been leaking from the lung and trapped inside the chest, finally escaping. The sound of space opening up again for the collapsed lung to reinflate.
"Hoooh…."
Stagnant, compressed air and pus came gushing out. Sang-goo pushed in a silicone tube — a water-seal drainage setup connected to a bottle of water, letting air escape while blocking the outside air from flowing back in. When bubbling air rose through the bottle, the boy's ragged breathing began to steady, as if by miracle.
There we go.
He filled a syringe with an antibiotic ampoule and injected it into the boy's vein, then tore open a pouch of bio-seal thread and stitched carefully around the tube — thread that would keep out the surrounding dirt and dust and suppress infection for hours.
Before long, the boy's cyanosis faded and a flush of color returned to his lips. When the boy slowly opened his eyes, the adults gathered around burst into tears.
"Oh, ohh…!"
"Th-thank you! Thank you!"
Everyone bowed to him in reverence — but Sang-goo, embarrassed at having gone to all that trouble to save the kid, just stripped off his blood-soaked gloves and spoke flatly.
"You can't stay here. Hygiene issues, the air's filthy, and it's freezing. Looks like you haven't been feeding him on time, either. Keep this up and he'll die."
"Th-then…."
"There's too much pus residue left on the surface of the lung to deal with here. The antibiotics need to be tracked and matched to whatever strain infected him, too… Either way, I've only bought him time. If you go to Yeongdo-gu, there are several specialists there who are better than I am. I guarantee he'll be in better shape than he is now."
"Ah…."
"Hmm…."
Complicated expressions flickered across the crowd's faces at Sang-goo's offer. Sang-goo understood now why they didn't immediately gush their thanks and declare they were heading for Yeongdo-gu.
This was a world where one mistake could cost you your life. Since the Zombie Break, the least trustworthy people of all had been the ones carrying weapons. Deserted soldiers and police. Too many citizens had been victimized by them — he could understand exactly how these people felt.
Talking each one of them around wasn't Sang-goo's style. Everyone has their own fate, doesn't he? Dragging the child off by force even if it meant killing every one of them was an option, sure — but that would just stir up a whole new mess of karma. He'd done his best. The rest was their choice to make.
These people aren't my family.
"You're the real deal, you know that?"
Little Dog wagged its hindquarters and let out a happy electronic chime. It wagged so hard it nearly tipped itself over — and Sang-goo found that adorable too.
"Let's head out."
Once again he moved to leave without any lingering attachment, but the middle-aged man wiped his eyes and came closer.
"Look here. I… understand perfectly. If you could at least treat the child in Yeongdo-gu, we'd be grateful."
"And the others? Isn't there anyone who's the boy's parents?"
"It's a bit complicated. But more importantly… we heard about you, sir. Last September, was it? Dr. Boo Young-ho… he was a good man. A truly good man. A terrible loss."
At the mention of his father's name, Sang-goo shut his eyes tightly and let out a bitter breath.
Dr. Boo Young-ho. The father who bore and raised me in his heart.
A man of skill so legendary they called him the god of modern medicine, yet so allergic to politics and factionalism that he threw away money and prestige to walk into the slums. A stubborn, impossible man of virtue who treated anyone and everyone who came through his door — regardless of gender, nationality, or even criminal record. His refrain had always been that justice was the law's business, heaven's business; all he had to do was tend to the sick and look after those who suffered.
And yet such a good man met a terrible end. The hands that had healed people their whole lives were cruelly split apart with an axe, and he was murdered — butchered by gangsters. Along with his dog, Jindol, and his younger son, Hong-goo.
While I was away from the hospital for a little while.
Which was why his eyes had rolled back, and he had axed sixteen of those gangster bastards to death and crippled five more. He'd turned himself in at the police station right after — and then, absurdly enough, the Zombie Break erupted, he crossed paths with old man Hwang Sang-chul who claimed to be a regressor, and here he was now.
Sang-goo slowly opened the eyes he'd closed, the memory of his father still lingering.
"Thank you for remembering my father. I'll be sending a rescue team to Yeongdo-gu for the boy. If you change your mind by then, you're welcome to join them."
"Isn't there anything we can do to help? Food, or… anything at all."
One look at Sang-goo's getup and it seemed more like the survivors should be receiving aid from him than the other way around. But their sincerity was genuine, so he asked for something else instead.
"Crows? What's the Black Guard?"
"Hm… so Yeongdo-gu doesn't really know what's happening over this way yet? And they call themselves a government camp."
"We've only had the camp up for less than a month. We're slowly expanding the rescue zone, starting from areas close to Yeongdo-gu. Busan will be properly brought under control by the government soon enough."
He wasn't the government's spokesman, but hope was a good thing to spread.
"The government, eh… if they can pull it off, I hope they swallow noisy Busan up peacefully. The Crows… those things aren't people. They're hunting dogs raised by the aristocrats of Geumji New City."
The middle-aged man spat bitterly and went on, deep loathing and fear carved into his eyes.
"They were originally under a global PMC — private military company, that is. Can't say whether they were under government contract, or whether some company here in Busan knew what was coming and prepared in advance… but in the early days of the outbreak, they guarded the rich of Haeundae and Suyeong-gu and slipped away into Geumji New City."
"So they were armed mercenaries from the very start."
The man nodded with a bitter smile.
"Now they've monopolized the place's firepower and clean water, and they want to work folks like us in the industrial district like slaves. Those black tactical vests and shoulder patches they wear — there's a crow's head painted on them. They call themselves the Black Guard, but we just call them the Crows."
Sang-goo furrowed his brow. A corporation? Or the government?
In the early days of the outbreak, while he'd been heading to Seoul with old man Hwang Sang-chul, Charles Lee, and San-i, the mercenaries had seized a corner of Busan. Was all of that really coincidence?
"Why do those guys keep raiding refugee camps?"
"The children. Human births stopped eleven years ago, hasn't it? Kids that age — the so-called Last Generation — are a resource more precious than gold now. The Crows take children under the banner of protecting them, then use them as hostages to threaten the parents… or worse, there are widespread rumors they're used for even more horrifying experiments."
Sang-goo swallowed a low groan.
Children.
A world already in decline had been hit by the zombie outbreak on top of everything, accelerating the collapse — so of course children were precious. But why children? Mere scarcity? Or was there something special about the Last Generation? And even if there wasn't… did people just choose to believe there was?
Until recently, Charles Lee had never once said he needed the children of the Last Generation. Of course they were precious beings to protect and cherish — but he had never once said he needed them, literally, as vaccines or experimental material. If anything, he'd said the more healthy adult men and women's blood, the better.
I'll look into it. The important thing is I'll know once I get there and see for myself.
"And this is a map of the area around here. Roughly divided by territory. We're with the Iron Corps."
"The Iron Corps."
"Ahem… I know, the name's a bit much. The men at the top are rough around the edges, I'll admit. Every three days we collect scrap metal and copper and hand it up to them, and we get food in return."
So the Iron Corps was the main power, with smaller camps underneath paying something like tribute as part of a coalition. Sang-goo immediately spread the map open.
Two factions waging ceaseless war across the Nakdong River: the Crows of Geumji New City, and the Iron Corps entrenched in the Saha-gu industrial district. Eulsukdo Bridge — the only way to cross between the two — was blockaded from both sides, each one plundering, assaulting, and abducting the other.
"You've even got the numbers written down?"
Roughly three thousand for Geumji New City, five thousand for the Iron Corps.
"Can't vouch for it. We made it early on. There could be fewer now — or more."
Not bad. Even a rough outline of the two camps was coming into view.
"This'll be useful. But are you really only sending the boy?"
"From the looks of things, a few will follow you. But not me. I've got a score to settle with the Crows."
There must be circumstances they couldn't help. Most of the people still alive had them.
"Good luck to you."
"Glad to have met you, Sang-goo. I hope… I hope we meet again someday, healthy, at the government camp."
Sang-goo gave a silent bow and mounted the Dark Knight — bound for one look at Geumji New City, beyond the Nakdong River.
Vrrrmmm—
Sang-goo cut the engine noise and drove the Dark Knight on its hybrid electric motor. His current position was near Nakdong Bridge in western Busan. Since Eulsukdo Bridge, which connected to Geumji New City, and the Nakdonggang estuary embankment were both locked down tight from either side, he was taking the widest possible detour.
Because of that, he'd passed through the Sasang-gu industrial zone, which felt much like Saha-gu, and had already crossed paths with two small camps. He'd treated their major and minor wounds, and spread word of the Yeongdo-gu camp's existence. To the suspicious ones, he hadn't pushed at all.
But once he'd cleared out two mutated zombies and about ten normal zombies nearby, the ones who'd tearfully begged to come along, just like he'd promised, started multiplying. The group he'd treated that morning had arrived safely, and a radio report said the second and third teams were making contact now — so Sang-goo eased off the throttle for a moment.
"Quiet, isn't it."
There was something up ahead that looked like a guard post. He'd been about to swing wide again and try heading further up.
The post — a one-ton box truck and a tent — was silent, with no one moving. Sunset was still two hours off.
Sang-goo adjusted his rifle's scope to examine the area some forty meters out. Past the tent, someone was lying beneath the truck. The barricade wasn't badly damaged, but the Crows could have infiltrated in small numbers.
Beep—
That was when it happened. Little, which had been quietly watching their flanks and rear, sounded off.
"What is it — you want to go take a look?"
The robot dog rested its front paws on the sidecar and let out an electronic chirp, nodding its head over and over — clearly asking for orders right away. The sight reminded Sang-goo of the clever old Jindol, and it pricked at his heart.
"Go take a look."
Barely had the words left his mouth before Little came blasting across the asphalt with a rapid ratatatat! of footfalls. Its running form was the equal of a cheetah.
Shortly after —
Vrrm—
Footage the robot dog had captured streamed into Sang-goo's helmet and the tablet on his forearm.
"……They're missing their teeth."
To see the scene with his own eyes, Sang-goo pulled the throttle.