The Tooth Collector. (4)
Vmmm―
The scene of the incident lay roughly ten meters ahead.
Sang-goo braked to a stop, sweeping his surroundings. Even though Little had already cleared the perimeter, he turned the Dark Knight around in advance, just in case he needed a fast exit. As the hybrid engine hushed its breath, the damp, briny wind off the Nakdong River estuary seeped in through the helmet's air intake.
At the mouth of the Nakdong River bridge, the one-ton box truck and the crude outpost of patched-together tents sat wrapped in silence, exactly as expected.
"Little, watch the perimeter."
Whirr― beep.
Little Dog's lens assembly glinted and spun through a full 360 degrees.
Rifle slung across his back, Sang-goo approached the site from the footage Little had transmitted earlier. Beside a truck wheel, someone lay sprawled across the dust-choked asphalt. Judging by the clothing, the man was clearly a scout from the Saha-gu industrial complex alliance — the Iron Corps. Oil-stained work coveralls, a crudely modified weapon, and a mangled body told the story of a miserable end.
With a leather-gloved hand, Sang-goo examined the corpse's face.
"Him."
The dead man's lips had been shredded, as if torn at with a sharp instrument, and his gums had been crushed clean down to the bone. Not a single tooth remained.
Sang-goo moved on to the neck. The cervical vertebrae were bent at an unnatural angle. The killer had overpowered a full-grown man, snapped his limbs and neck in one motion, then calmly collected his teeth. And once again there wasn't a single bite mark on the body — this was no zombie's work.
He understood the creature's filthy appetite well enough. What puzzled him was that it didn't hesitate to indulge even in broad daylight. Everything he'd tracked so far pointed to a creature that moved only at night, yet judging by the condition of the corpse, this hadn't happened long ago.
Is it losing patience?
It felt like witnessing the birth of a serial killer. First only at night, once every four days. Then the intervals grew shorter and shorter, until now the thing simply killed whatever it came across.
Just one body?
Common sense said any manned outpost ran pairs — two men to a watch. Even on a remote, roundabout bridge like this one.
He scanned the tents. Empty water bottles and overturned mess kits confirmed it: two men had been stationed here. No radio, no weapons in sight — had the other man bolted?
Could it be the Crows' doing?
It was possible the Crows of Geumji New City knew the tooth collector mutant's true nature and had staged this themselves. The two factions were at war, after all — nothing could be ruled out.
With that thought, Sang-goo studied the corpse once more. Was this the work of a human being, or did it match the pattern of the thing he'd been hunting all this while?
It's him.
The conclusion didn't change. Tools had been used to twist and pry the teeth loose, that much was true — but the grotesquely contorted bones showed that the rest had been done in a single burst of violence.
The other one either ran, or went over the side of the bridge.
Just as Sang-goo finished sorting it all out—
Vrooooom―!!
A rough engine growl sounded in the distance. Four red dots blazed onto Sang-goo's helmet HUD, closing fast. Little had detected the approaching vehicles long before and flagged them.
Sang-goo adjusted his grip on his rifle and stood beside the truck's cab. The muzzle pointed down, but his eyes glittered with killing intent. He would open with conversation — but he switched the fire selector to full auto anyway, ready to cut them all down if it came to that. Little Dog scurried to his side and dropped into a low combat stance.
Moments later, the vehicles burst into view, kicking up a wall of dust. Two open-backed trucks and two sedans slammed on their brakes in a loose ring around Sang-goo and the body. Doors flew open and burly men poured out — a good fifteen of them. They leveled makeshift rifles built from gas pipes, shotguns, sharpened steel spears, and brutish-looking machetes at him, their eyes a churning mix of hostility, suspicion, and the fury of men who had just lost a comrade.
Every jaw was working; they looked ready to rush him that very second. Yet not one of them spat an insult or took a single step closer. Their leader, it seemed, had given strict orders.
They're fairly organized.
In situations like this, you started with—
"Nice outfit. Good weapons, good gear too. You from the Crows?"
Talking first was the proper play.
"I'm with the Yeongdo-gu camp."
Sang-goo addressed the sturdy middle-aged man in the unbadged military beret, goggles, and dark khaki fatigues.
"Yeongdo-gu. You mean the camp the soldiers took over a while back. You military?"
"Let's say I owe them my keep."
"You've got the look of a man who knows Busan's gone to the dogs. What are you doing out here, then?"
"Tracking a mutant."
The middle-aged man's cheek twitched. "Mutant?"
"You ever come across a body with no teeth?"
"...I have. And you're telling me that wasn't the Crows — it was a mutant?"
"That's how it looks."
"...Can't say I follow. There wasn't a bite mark anywhere on him."
"Which is why I'm tracking it. I don't know why, but its appetite has turned in a different direction."
At Sang-goo's flat reply, the man in the beret gave a dry laugh. "So you're a researcher, are you?"
"Let's say I have a friend who is."
"Hmm. One body, though. Any idea where the other man went?"
The man in the beret stroked his coarse beard as he asked. He only half-believed a word Sang-goo said — and given his posture, he was weighing his next move. No matter how fine the gear, the odds were fifteen to one. That such blunt, unshakable composure held up under that kind of pressure was both astonishing and, naturally, suspicious.
"I just got here myself. Aside from examining the body, I haven't touched anything."
Just then, the man beside the middle-aged beret wearer fingered his earpiece. Apparently he'd caught something over the radio, because his face went slack with surprise before he leaned in and whispered to the leader. As the message landed, the beret man's expression shifted by degrees.
"You... you're a doctor, then? Treated a girl called Jun — and patched up two of our affiliate camps as well?"
"I don't hold any license. Just a bit of a knack, that's all."
Word had already spread of a black motorcycle rider from Yeongdo-gu making the rounds through Saha-gu treating patients — and now the man himself stood before them, so the whole crowd murmured.
"Was patching people up just a way of recruiting our men?"
"They made their own choice. I never forced anyone."
"Hard to swallow. Would you — mind taking off that helmet?"
Convinced that Sang-goo wasn't simply an enemy after all, the beret man's tone had softened considerably.
"......"
The middle-aged man in the beret gestured to his surrounding men. In unison, they lowered their weapons. He handed his own weapon to the man beside him, stripped off his goggles, and walked forward slowly — both hands raised, showing he had no intention of fighting. He glanced once at Little Dog, then back at Sang-goo, and stopped five paces away.
Only then did Sang-goo lift his helmet and show his face.
The beret man's eyebrows twitched.
"Rough-looking, for a doctor. Name's Ji Seong-gyu. I run the search-and-rescue teams for the Saha-gu camp."
He extended his hand.
"Boo Sang-goo."
"Rare surname. Suits you, though. Well — what did you find?"
"No teeth. It's only ever been active at night before, but from the state of the body, this wasn't long ago. I'd expect there's one more victim down there."
Sang-goo's gaze drifted toward the base of the bridge.
"Check it out."
At the middle-aged man's order, five men moved quickly. Being at the very start of the bridge, they didn't need long to find the body.
"C-Captain! There's one below!"
"Secure the remains. Down there too."
"Yes, sir!"
"Understood!"
The big men snapped to it crisply. They were his own people; Sang-goo had no intention of involving himself further. But knowing now that the creature moved in daylight as well, he had a feeling they'd be meeting it soon.
"What the hell... he doesn't have a single tooth left."
"His neck's twisted all the way around...."
The men gathering up their comrade's remains each spat out a remark, faces contorted with disgust. Whether they did or didn't, the middle-aged man in the beret had eyes only for Sang-goo.
"Night's coming on soon. Planning to head back to Yeongdo-gu?"
"Still deciding."
Whenever he headed out, he made the rounds for about four days, returning only once his medicine and rations ran dry. He'd barely been out one day — heading back now would leave a bad taste.
"If you're willing, I'd like to put dinner on for you. There's something I'd like to ask, too."
"Many patients?"
"Ahem. Can't lie — we do have a few doctors of our own. It's supplies we're short of, that's the problem. More to the point, though — why don't we eat and trade information? From the look of you, you've got designs beyond the mutant, building up goodwill in our neck of the woods."
He'd been planning to make contact with one of the two factions anyway. Only by learning their real strength could Yeongdo-gu craft a strategy and absorb them peacefully.
"Lead the way."
Sang-goo accepted readily.
Grmrmrmrmr―
Sang-goo fired up the Dark Knight, and Little Dog hopped nimbly into the sidecar. With the two trucks leading the way, he drove deep into the heart of Saha-gu. Their main base was the Silla Industrial Complex — and the closer he got, the more sinister the surroundings became. The rusted shipping containers abandoned along the road had long since become somebody's dwellings, and the corpses hanging from every building's outer wall swayed in the wind, radiating a grisly warning. Through the torn black uniforms, faded crow patches were visible. They'd apparently caught Crows from Geumji New City and put them on display.
The truly breathtaking sight, though, was the fortress looming ahead.
That's a camp?
The silhouette of the colossal man-made structure rose across Sang-goo's HUD. It was a former steelworks — once used to fabricate heavy equipment for the great shipyards — refortified from end to end. The home of the Iron Corps.
The fortress walls were not stone, nor concrete. Thousands of crushed cars had been compressed into brick-like blocks, stacked twelve meters high, then welded together into a single seamless rampart. Perched atop that bizarre, mountainous wall of scrap stood a line of watchtowers converted from old vans.
No wonder they've held out this long.
Kugugugugu―!
As the sedans ahead drew near, the fortress gate — riveted together from massive steel plate — groaned open on pulleys. Inside the walls, Sang-goo squinted against an acrid stench that clawed at the lungs. Little Dog analyzed the air quality too and spat out a short warning chirp. Automatically, Sang-goo's helmet sealed its air intake and activated the oxygen filter, cycling in clean air.
Man could catch lung disease just standing here.
The air was thick with iron filings, black soot, and the burn of waste oil. Never-ceasing welding arcs draped the factory interior in a bluish haze. Across the yard, dozens of homemade armored vehicles were under assembly — monsters built by welding thick steel plate over old dump-truck frames and bolting enormous rotating saw blades or drills onto the noses, machines made to grind through a horde of zombies. The kind of contraptions you'd only expect to see in an old Mad Max film or a zombie apocalypse movie.
What caught his eye next were the people. Teenagers, sixteen or seventeen, stood mixed in among the adults, wiping rifle bolts with oil-blackened fingers and gathering up spent casings.
Are they preparing for a war?
The moment Sang-goo rolled inside, the technicians stopped what they were doing and crowded around. Every gaze locked onto his gear, his bike, and Little Dog, who had planted all four feet in the sidecar and stood guard, antennae rigid.
"Hey, look at that robot dog... isn't that military issue?"
"Check out that module. With one of those, our auto-cannon accuracy would jump threefold."
In the technicians' eyes, greed ran well ahead of awe. Little Dog, sensing the threat, let out a low vibrating growl, its antenna-ears standing straight up.
Grmrmrmr―
When the sedan ahead stopped, Sang-goo parked the bike as well, and the crowd began creeping closer.
Sang-goo rested a hand on Little's head and shifted the helmet's visor to transparent. Glittering eyes and part of a face cut clean by an old scar swept over the onlookers.
"Don't even dream about it."
At Sang-goo's icy warning, the technicians flinched and fell back.
Just then, Ji Seong-gyu stepped out of the sedan. "Everybody, back off!"
At his barked order, his men loudly dispersed the crowd.
"I'll leave a man to watch the bike, so don't worry about it. Come inside — the interior's decent enough, no problem getting a meal there."
Sang-goo looked from the bike to Little and back again. His deliberation was brief.
"Let's go."
As he spoke, arms spread wide, Little leapt out of the sidecar and into them.