Variants of the Airport (3)

A soft mechanical hum rose through the stillness.

Woooong― Tak, tak, tak!

The recessed LED lights in the ceiling flickered on in sequence like dominoes falling, and the full scope of the bunker, long submerged in darkness, revealed itself at last.

"Oh…."

An involuntary gasp escaped Sang-goo's lips.

He'd been bracing for a damp, gloomy slab of concrete, but it was nothing of the sort. The air purification system had only just spun up, so the air itself wasn't great, but the interior was surprisingly impressive—flooring finished as smooth as marble, subtle indirect lighting, and the air purifiers humming at full tilt. It looked as though someone had transplanted the lobby of a luxury Gangnam hotel, or the executive suite of a corporate giant, straight underground. This was clearly a space designed not merely for survival, but for the daily life and governance of a nation's highest leadership.

"Must have cost a fortune."

Sang-goo gave a wry smile as he headed for the main control desk at the center of the lobby. The massive multi-vision monitors filling the wall blinked red in standby mode. The desk wasn't as thickly coated in dust as he'd expected—the system had apparently been purging the interior at intervals. In any case, a mechanical keyboard and mouse sat at the center, and beside them a card reader glowed a cool blue.

Sang-goo pulled the Phoenix card from his pocket.

Beep.

He tapped it lightly against the reader and it chimed pleasantly.

Weeeeeng―

With the whir of spinning fans, the full display blazed to life. The first thing to appear was a 3D overhead schematic of the bunker itself—bedrooms, a medical bay, a food warehouse, an armory, a power generation room, and, tucked deep in the rear, a smart farm zone. Director Yoo's claim that twenty people could hold out here for more than six months had been no exaggeration.

Sang-goo moved the mouse and zoomed in on the blueprint.

The most important thing wasn't the door you came in through. It was the way out.

Escape route.

At the very bottom of the schematic, at a depth of two basement levels, a passage leading outside was marked.

"Just as I thought."

A sewer line that offered a clean exit beyond the airport. Which meant he wouldn't have to wrestle his way through ten thousand zombies on the way out, like he had coming in.

"Retreat route secured."

Sang-goo flipped to the next tab on the screen and clicked the 'National Bunker Status' menu. A sprawling map of South Korea spread across the display, dotted with dozens of markers—twenty in Seoul, two in Busan, and one or two in each of the metropolitan cities: Daejeon, Daegu, Gwangju, Ulsan, and the rest. A network of secret bases the government had seeded across the country against the end of days.

But as he stared at that screen, Sang-goo's eyes went cold and flat.

"……All dead."

Every marker on the map showed gray. Locations where communications had gone dark, or where the systems had never even come online. Only a single point—one—glowed green: the Gimhae Airport Bunker in Busan, the very place where Sang-goo now stood.

And that single user wasn't even a government official. It was Sang-goo, an outsider.

"Hm…."

Seoul alone had boasted more than twenty bunkers, and not a single soul had made it inside them. The underground complex beneath the Blue House and the Ministry of National Defense bunker had all been left empty—or turned into graves without owners. Stark evidence of how sudden and devastating the Break had been, and how effortlessly the Republic of Korea's entire system had collapsed into nothing.

Director Yoo Dong-seok, Team Leader Baek Sang-jin, and the Prime Minister, currently under detention. That was truly all that remained of the South Korean government.

"Man, this really isn't easy."

Sang-goo clicked his tongue and let the feeling pass. What could he do? Same as always—keep scrambling to survive, now and into the future.

"Little, start recording everything that comes up on this screen."

Little nodded. Sang-goo took hold of the joystick and opened the 'External CCTV Monitoring' menu. The screen split into sixteen tiles, streaming live feeds from all corners of the airport. Some were dead, showing nothing but static, but the cameras at key points were running crisp and clear on emergency power.

It was the same hell he'd seen through the drone. A horde of ten thousand zombies rippling like a black tide. Seen from above, it was somehow even more revolting.

Sang-goo cycled through the channels until he found the cameras covering the terminal interior.

The glass-walled lobby area was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠completely empty. Where sunlight poured in, only a few rotting, desiccated zombie corpses lay abandoned on the floor. But when he swiveled the cameras toward the shadowed corners—facing the unlit entrance to a restroom, or the shuttered storeroom behind a duty-free shop—something skin-crawling came into view.

"Well, well. Look at these things."

Sang-goo zoomed in.

In the faint darkness, creatures with hairless, smooth, ghastly pale skin lay tangled and twisted over one another, forming a mountain ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of flesh. Like snakes hibernating through the winter, or a swarm of insects brooding over their eggs. They were the same things he'd witnessed once before, in a tunnel in Hannam-dong, Seoul—the creatures the local survivors called the Night Guests.

Every blind spot the cameras couldn't quite reach, every crevice the light never touched, held coiled clusters of the things by the hundreds. They didn't stir at all. But once the sun went down and darkness settled, those mountains of flesh would uncoil and sweep through the entire airport.

Sang-goo angled one camera slightly to the side. Near the Night Guests, sprawled across the floor, corpses caught his eye.

"So that's what happened."

They weren't civilians.

Torn-to-ribbons dress uniforms—and two stars pinned at the shoulders. A general with a major general's insignia, along with colonel- and lieutenant-colonel-grade officer zombies, lay scattered with their limbs torn off and their skulls burst open. These weren't the marks of zombies fighting each other. It had been a one-sided slaughter.

Sang-goo nodded slowly.

"There was a Zombie Lord here… and it got eaten."

No matter that a Lord commanded a mobile horde—against the Night Guests, apparently, that meant nothing. The variants outside probably hid like ghosts the moment night fell, just hunkering down and enduring. This enormous airport belonged to the Night Guest swarm. No doubt about it.

His assessment of what was inside was complete. The difficulty was higher than he'd expected.

Part of him longed to use that warship moored off the Yeongdo coast—punch in coordinates, hit a missile button, and simply erase the whole thing. But the planes on the runway and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the supplies with them were too valuable to burn. And if he tried shooting each one dead individually, he'd burn through ten thousand rounds of ammunition and still come up short.

"I'll have to go back and put our heads together on this one."

Sang-goo rose from the seat. Little Dog had saved the recording and shut it down on its own.

"Getting hungry. Let's have a look around the interior."

He toured the bunker. Past the state-of-the-art shower facilities and restrooms, a vast food warehouse opened up. Shelves stacked high with combat rations, assorted canned goods, and crates of bottled water lined the walls—enough to feed twenty people for half a year with plenty to spare. Beyond an inner glass door sat the smart farm facility. It was offline for now, but it was an LED farm that could raise fresh lettuce and tomatoes on demand—just load in seeds and nutrient solution and flip the switch.

"Not bad."

Sang-goo cracked open a can of ham and tipped it into his mouth. The salty, savory flavor flooded across his tongue.

Having filled his stomach with a quick meal, he headed at last for the most important place of all—the armory.

He opened the steel door and the smell of gun oil rushed out to meet him. Weapons lined up in neat rows welcomed him.

Most of them were improved K2 rifles and Glock-series pistols. Boxes of 5.56mm ammunition were stacked nearly wall to wall, but his camp already had plenty of rifle ammo. Sang-goo's eyes were searching for something more special.

"Now this looks useful."

At the very back of the display rack, a heavy firearm in a separate special case caught his eye. A matte-black body, a design reminiscent of an M4 but with a far thicker, larger barrel—and at the bottom, a round drum magazine. An instruction manual had even been thoughtfully attached. Little Dog scanned the English-language document and instantly beamed him the information.

"So it's a 30-round automatic shotgun with ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠reach."

Sang-goo lifted the gun and gave it a heft. It was heavy. In a different league from an ordinary pump-action—the kind of close-quarters monster that, with the trigger held down, would turn everything in front of you into kindling. There'd be nothing better for shredding a swarm of zombies closing in, or for narrow indoor spaces. And with a thirty-meter effective range, it beat most pistols handily.

"This one's coming with me."

He loaded the drum magazine into the shotgun and slung it across his shoulder on a diagonal, alongside his rifle. On top of that he grabbed three spare 30-round drums, and crammed three boxes of 25 shells each into his pack as well. The weight was considerable, but well worth it. Then he picked up six incendiary grenades from beneath the shelf. More firepower than a standard grenade, and since they burned targets with searing heat, they'd be effective against variants.

"That's it. Let's head out."

He wanted to take more, but weight was the problem. He'd secured the bunker anyway—he could just drive a truck back later and strip it clean.

Before leaving the bunker, Sang-goo made for the emergency exit he'd spotted on the schematic. He opened the thick steel door to find a narrow passage connecting to an underground sewer. The stench was foul, but it beat facing those ten thousand on the runway again by a hundred to one.

"Let's go find the Dark Knight."

—Woof!

For the first time, the little guy let out a genuinely convincing bark. He'd keep growing by the day, no doubt. Tailored precisely to Sang-goo, of course. And that pulled a chuckle right out of him.

The laboratory hung taut with a knife-edge tension.

Weeeeeng―

The sound of the centrifuge winding down filled the room. Kim Hyung-seok—Dr. Kim—lifted the serum out of the machine with careful, deliberate hands. Not a trace of the madman of a few days ago remained. He'd swung at Sang-goo when they first met in the field, mouthed off during transport and taken a beating from the marines, then kept up his hostility on arrival and gotten thoroughly hammered by the guards besides. After days of eating well and sleeping deep in solitary confinement, the madness and venom had drained cleanly from his eyes.

He spoke to Team Leader Baek behind him and Director Yoo with an exceedingly respectful, composed bearing.

"It's… ready."

Kim Hyung-seok held up the syringe. Inside the tube, a crimson liquid swayed gently. The exact same color as the 'original serum' Dr. Jang Sun-woo had once made.

Behind him, Director Yoo Dong-seok and Team Leader Baek Sang-jin stood with their arms folded. In the heavy silence, their gazes were fixed on the other side of the glass wall.

Inside the isolation chamber, Alpha—the clone Sang-goo had captured at Geumji New City—strained against his restraints, breathing hard. The creature was gaunt as a rail, his skin grayed and fading, stripped of vitality. They hadn't even drawn that much blood. His life force seemed to be approaching its absolute limit.

And on the bed, Jang Seok-woo—the original body—was soaked in sweat as well, the bedsheets drenched beneath him. Amid the agony of his muscles dissolving, he gazed through clouded eyes at Alpha beyond the glass. A being with his own face, living and dying like a beast.

"……"

Guilt surged up in him. He was living by wringing out that creature's life. But he could not die yet. Absolutely. Absolutely, he wanted to kill the father who had made him into this—the son of a bitch, Jang Sun-woo. Jang Seok-woo bit his lip and gave a small nod.

Team Leader Baek Sang-jin issued a short order to Kim Hyung-seok.

"Administer it."

"Yes, Team Leader."

Kim Hyung-seok approached Jang Seok-woo carefully. He swabbed the man's forearm with an alcohol pad and located the vein.

"This may sting… a little."

Slide.

The thick needle sank into Jang Seok-woo's vein. Kim Hyung-seok pressed the plunger, and the red serum was drawn deep into his body.

Everyone held their breath.

Gulp.

Jang Seok-woo's Adam's apple bobbed once. One second, two seconds, three… a silent stretch where nothing happened at all—and then—

FWOOOOOSH―

An intense heat began to radiate from Jang Seok-woo's body. The pores that had been bleeding abnormal sweat sealed shut, and a healthy red flush spread across a face gone deathly pale. The muscles that had been shriveling into wrinkles swelled again like a sponge drinking water.

"Haahk… hah…."

Jang Seok-woo's ragged breathing gradually steadied. The brow that pain had contorted smoothed out.

Director Yoo stepped forward and asked, "Jang Seok-woo, can you hear me? Can you hear my voice?"

Jang Seok-woo slowly opened his eyes. The murky glaze over them had cleared into a vivid, shining light. A vitality impossible to believe in a man who'd stood at death's very threshold. He parted his cracked lips.

"……So."

"Yes. Go ahead—tell me. How do you feel? Are you all right?"

"I'm… hungry."

At that single line, the strained air in the laboratory dissolved completely.