Big Man. (3)
Sang-goo touched the screen.
On it was a map of South Korea, dotted with six red points and two blue ones.
"This is…."
Curiosity crept across Sang-goo's face as his eyes swept over the display.
"You get the gist, right? The two blue dots are our Yeongdo District camp and the Daejeon Hwagae Market camp."
The Daejeon Hwagae Market camp. Roughly nine hundred people had made their home in a juvenile detention center in Daejeon, a camp newly established thanks to the considerable help Sang-goo and Hwang Sang-chul had lent them not long ago. People from Jeolla, Gyeongsang, and Chungcheong provinces were all living there together, which was why the place had jokingly been named Hwagae Market — a famous old market where travelers from every region once crossed paths. Director Jung Moon-soo, an old junior of Elder Hwang Sang-chul, had set down his own rules, and the camp ran safely under his hand.
So from the look of it, Yeongdo and the Hwagae Market camp were the safe zones, and the rest of the red dots were the problem.
"And the others?"
"Camp locations in Gwangju, Naju, Busan, Ulsan, and Cheonan. They were still showing up on satellite imagery when we first settled into Yeongdo. Large populations gathered in one place, distress signals coming through. These days, well… as you know, the surveillance satellites are down."
Five regions, six red points. Busan alone had two, sitting on either side of the Nakdong River.
"How many people are we estimating?"
"When I checked about three weeks ago, all of them together came to at least ten thousand. If they could band together… that's a respectable number to work with. But they're already organized, and if we handle it wrong, they might be the ones swallowing us instead."
"Even if it meant raiding an armory?"
"The group over in Geumji New City, across the Nakdong River there — something about them feels off. I hear they've secured electricity and water. Mercenaries keep coming up in the refugees' stories too… Can't take everything survivors say at face value, so it'll need cross-checking."
"And Seoul stays quiet, I take it."
"More or less. If you actually went there, you'd probably find more living people than anywhere else. But that damned EMP knocked out every scrap of power across Seoul and Gyeonggi Province, so not a single distress signal — nothing — has come through since."
Pharmaceutical company House of Lion, still holding the position of ally for now. To wipe out the artificial intelligence known as 'Santa' that had been stirring up trouble behind the scenes, they had fired off an EMP with their own hands. As a result, the entire Seoul metropolitan area sat in a blackout, deaf and mute.
"We start with the places we can reach. Seoul and Gyeonggi come after."
"So Project A is truly underway."
Project A — the plan to stabilize Busan with Yeongdo as the foothold, then rebuild the nation step by step. Project B, the reconstruction of Incheon Airport, wasn't feasible under current conditions, so everything had to be poured into this.
"The Prime Minister really does intend to see it through. But we're still short on so much. Even knowing where they are… even rescuing them safely… we don't have the supplies to feed and care for all of them. And there's no guarantee every camp will be friendly toward the government. Which is exactly why…."
Team Leader Baek let the sentence trail off. Sang-goo followed his gaze and let out a small, dry laugh.
The pitch-black sea. Invisible to the naked eye from here, but he already knew what waited out there. Dozens of warships, and an aircraft carrier laden with staggering quantities of supplies — all of it sitting unclaimed, waiting all this time for a human hand.
"You're finally going, then?"
"Our numbers have grown nicely, but we're running low on weapons and ammunition. Once we secure the food and arms loaded on that carrier, we're set for years."
"I see. Then as for what I can help with…."
"Were you planning to head right back out again tomorrow morning?"
Something had been nagging at him. The people he'd treated a few hours ago would be collected by a rescue team on their own once dawn broke — that much was handled. The real issue was the investigation he'd been running alone lately.
Recent weeks had turned up human, zombie, and mutant corpses alike with their teeth missing, and he was trying to find out why. That was why he'd left that last raider bastard behind as bait. Once tonight passed and morning came, he intended to check the recorded footage and see what had become of him.
But if Team Leader Baek asked, he was willing to join the aircraft carrier search party.
Warships and a carrier, frozen mid-mission the moment the Zombie Break struck. How many hundreds of zombies must be swarming inside them by now? The warships he couldn't guess, but the carrier would surely be crawling with thousands at least.
Which meant that in a situation like that, a man who was the very antithesis of a normal zombie would be a considerable asset.
Having settled the matter in his mind, Sang-goo shrugged.
"A day or so is fine."
"Then could you rest up at the hotel and stand by?"
"You're not asking me to come along?"
"Come on, what kind of request is that? Even I have a conscience. After you led the charge to retake Yeongdo, you think I'd turn around and ask you to charge into another hellhole?"
"……."
"And you never know when Sang-chul hyung might drop by. If word got around that I'd sent you somewhere dangerous, he'd never let it slide. To hell with the Prime Minister and the whole government — he'd come storming in, roaring about what the hell I'd been thinking with his man…! Aiyo, no. Too scary. I couldn't make that ask."
Not that it really mattered, but knowing Hwang Sang-chul's stubborn, iron-willed temper as he did, Sang-goo couldn't exactly argue.
The old man was already sulking about not being invited along to the safe island House of Lion had provided. If he caught wind of Sang-goo being pushed around by government men here, he'd charter a helicopter on the spot, fly over, and spend a solid hour unloading profanity.
Who cared about the Prime Minister in front of him? Anyone who rubbed him the wrong way would get their jaw caved in first — with the hybrid titanium prosthetic arm, no less.
Laughter rose in Sang-goo despite himself.
"Understood. I'll stand by, just in case. Might even catch up on some sleep for once."
"Our people are capable enough, but honestly? Knowing you're on standby puts my mind at ease."
"Think nothing of it. I owe this place plenty. Whatever you need, I'll help."
"Hahaha. I appreciate you saying so. You must be exhausted — let's get you to bed. Go on, get some rest."
The conversation ended there, and Sang-goo was able to catch a ride in Team Leader Baek's car back to the hotel.
"Hnnngh… hnnngh…."
The hulking mass of a man, bound tight as a mummy, had toppled over sideways, chair and all. However hard he strained, the restraints didn't so much as loosen — Sang-goo had tied them that well. As dusk settled, he threw himself against the bindings hard enough to crack his teeth, and the whole thing was enough to freeze a man solid.
But what wore on him worse than anything was the fear lurking beyond the darkness.
The trap had already sprung twice. A handful of zombies had brushed against the tripwire, and hundreds of steel nails had hammered into them. Whether by sheer luck or by the man's own calculation, not a single nail had touched him.
That offered no comfort whatsoever.
—Grrrrrr….
Those pale blue eyes glinting from beyond the dark. A mutant had appeared, no doubt about it.
Whatever the thing was, it was no ordinary fool. Once a few common zombies had been turned into honeycombs, it refused to approach carelessly.
The flesh of the bound human tempted it — but with no way of knowing how many traps remained, it held back. Sly, patient, cunning.
The question was how long that patience would last.
"You son of a… bitch… hnn-hekk… Mom… Mom…."
He cursed the blade-wielding bastard who had left him like this. Psycho, murderer, killer, piece of shit! He hurled curse after curse at Boo Sang-goo, but it only soothed him for a moment — nothing changed. And so the hulk carried on, weeping and swearing, over and over, for a long, long while.
How much time had passed?
—Graaaaagh!
Thwup! Crackle-crunch—!
He squeezed his eyes shut at the mutant's shriek. But… the noise wasn't what he'd expected. He'd braced for another trap triggering, for rotted flesh to go flying. This sounded nothing like an explosion — it sounded like flesh being torn, like bones snapping.
"Haah… haah…."
He cracked his eyes open. Perhaps the clouds had parted at just that moment, because moonlight spilled in through the shattered window.
"Uhhk…?"
The man's voice died in his throat.
Massive. Imposing. Grotesque. Words like those surfaced unbidden, because the figure filled his vision all at once.
He could see it clearly — a monster the likes of which he'd never laid eyes on in his life, holding the mutant's severed head up close, nostrils flaring as it sniffed. What truly boggled the mind was that both of the dangling mutant's arms had been savagely ripped off.
—Kyaaak! Gwaaaak!!
The head in its grip clacked its teeth wildly, straining to bite anything it could reach. Whether that insolence was what provoked it —
SHRRRIP—!!
The thing's hands tore the mutant's jaws apart, top and bottom.
Thud-flap—
The body of the mutant, torn to pieces and dead, hit the floor. But the crazed monster didn't stop there. It dragged the ruined remains of the split jaw up before its face and examined it — peering into the gaping mouth as if conducting an inspection of a wide-open maw.
A moment later.
Crack! Crrrick!
The sound of something being torn out made his joints go weak.
And then—
"Oh no… fuck…."
It was pitch black, but he could feel it. The mad monster was looking this way now.
His pants had been soaked for a long time already. From here on, he wished for nothing but to die without pain.
Eleven o'clock the next morning.
Perhaps it was the long, deep sleep in a warm room on a plush mattress, but his condition was excellent. Sang-goo rinsed his mouth with tepid bottled water and drew back the curtains.
The weather was beautiful today, and it lifted his mood along with it. He began his usual morning routine.
He took out the photographs of his loved ones. The old man, Min-ji, and San-i. Lately he found himself missing the kid quite a bit — the one who'd asked him to be her dad.
We can't live on House of Lion's island forever.
Richard, head of the House of Lion, was warm toward his family, but no one could say how long that goodwill would last. The wretched virus could mutate again at any time and throw new trials their way, and Holton's remnants hadn't been fully cleaned out yet either.
One way or another, didn't his own country have to be standing strong before he could stop freeloading under someone else's roof? That was part of why he helped the Yeongdo camp. Only if the nation held together — only if an organization that was truly theirs stood firm — could he protect his family.
And so, in the process, he was quietly building up goodwill points (of a sort) with the men who would become the future government. When the day came and his family was finally gathered in one place, no outside power would dare cast covetous eyes on them.
That was what Sang-goo believed.
Only after locking the faces of his loved ones into his eyes and his heart did he open the door.
There it was, sure enough. A tray sat outside, covered with newspaper — a quiet breakfast left behind so as not to disturb his sleep, since no one knew when he might wake. The two soldiers who were supposed to be bodyguards but had ended up playing butlers had thought of everything.
Out of respect for their effort, Sang-goo properly began his late morning: toast with eggs and ham, a glass of orange juice, and warm coffee in a thermos. The toast had gone cold, but in this world, what a luxurious breakfast it was. Fresh eggs alone were an indulgence beyond reckoning.
He finished eating, washed up quickly, and headed down. The moment he reached the first floor, two young soldiers greeted him.
"Good morning, sir."
"You're up."
Impeccably courteous, like a loyal retinue.
"Ah, yes. Have you two eaten?"
"We have. Lunch is coming up soon — what should we prepare?"
"If there's anything you'd like, we can place an order right now."
He was grateful, truly, but this kind of treatment never stopped feeling strange. Sang-goo gave an awkward smile.
"I just had breakfast, thanks to you. I ate very well. I'll manage the next meal myself."
"Understood. And… a rescue team was dispatched early this morning. All three points were recovered safely — we thought you'd want to know."
He meant that the people Sang-goo had spent three days rescuing had reached the Yeongdo camp early that morning.
"That's a relief."
"If you need anything, radio us anytime."
"Thank you. By the way, nothing unusual on Team Leader Baek's end, I assume? As I understand it, the operation started early this morning."
"No developments to report so far. Shall we inquire with command?"
These men were ex-Marines, ex-National Intelligence Service, ex-naval special warfare, weren't they? They'd handle it fine without his input.
"No need. I'm going to take a walk."
"We'll ready a car."
Yeongdo was no Busan, but it wasn't a small district either — and Sang-goo was, after all, a man with celebrity-level fame around here.
"Don't go to all that trouble. I just want to visit the hospital."
Smiling, Sang-goo pushed open the hotel door. He intended to stop by the hospital where yesterday's rescued survivors were being treated.