Left Dog, Right Cow
Left dog, right cow.
A few of the men sent to secure supplies from the aircraft carrier had run into serious trouble. They'd gathered a considerable haul, but unfortunately, Colonel Oh Sang-shik of the Marine Corps — the operation's commanding officer — and his squad had become trapped and isolated.
The moment Boo Sang-goo received Team Leader Baek's urgent radio call, he made his own preparations and left the hotel behind. Several helicopters touched down, and soldiers soaked in blood and sweat poured out onto the tarmac.
"Sang-goo!!"
The medical team on standby took charge of the wounded while the camp's resident troops hauled away the recovered supplies. In the middle of the chaos, Sang-goo quickly moved aside with Team Leader Baek — into the operation van parked nearby, where the two of them sat alone.
He'd gotten the broad strokes over the radio on the way here. The hangar on Deck 8, the lowest level of the carrier. Colonel Oh and his men had been cut off near the cargo hold — the one packed full of weapons, ammunition, and equipment. They'd been ambushed by mutants and scattered from part of their squad, and their last transmission had come from the cargo hold on Deck 8. The strange part was that the radio went silent right after they sent a distress signal.
"Sang-goo. I'm really sorry about this."
"Why are you pushing yourselves so hard?"
"It's just… *hah*… the thing is, once we reach Deck 8, we can pull out everything stored down there. The door only opens from the inside, so there was no other way. But once it's open, we can haul the supplies out from the outside — even with a fishing boat if we have to."
Who would take that kind of risk because they wanted to die? He'd gambled to keep the camp alive, that was all.
"Are they confirmed alive?"
It was a sad thought, but if they were already dead, there'd be no reason to brave the danger at all. Of course, the mountain of supplies down on Deck 8 was tempting — but that was none of Sang-goo's concern.
"They're not dead or unable to respond. Modern equipment can tell that much. After their last transmission, they started getting jammed."
"Is there… some warlord inside who'd do that?"
At Sang-goo's question, Team Leader Baek's expression hardened. As far as he was concerned, every possibility was still on the table.
Five months had passed since the Zombie Break. The seizures had been random, but this was a massive carrier, wasn't it? Countless compartments honeycombed through its hull, how many separate zones layered on top of each other? An organization could very well have survived somewhere inside a vessel holding that much materiel. Even fellow soldiers of the ROK military — with five months of the Break behind them, their minds could have frayed to the point where they'd see any intruder as a threat to their stability.
"Honestly… I don't know. What I do know is that the mutant numbers climbed the deeper we went."
"Give me a precise count. And hand over the recorded operation logs — I need to hear at least the last ten minutes."
"*Hah*… Three in the final transmission. Colonel Oh and two of his men, trapped in the cargo hold on Deck 8. Damn it all… I should have stopped them. I should never have let them go that far."
Team Leader Baek Sang-jin looked heartbroken, as if every bit of it were his own fault. Sang-goo said nothing, playing back the mission's radio recordings at double speed.
Getting cut off all the way down on Deck 8 means they failed at the very threshold.
Colonel Oh Sang-shik knew the carrier's interior well. The operation had gone smoothly all morning, so apparently he'd let his ambition get the better of him. They'd strung the mindless zombies out with sound drones and mowed them down with machine guns — no wonder his confidence had swelled.
The containers had been baking in the wind and rain on the open deck for five months. The weapons, ammunition, and equipment they'd recovered from there had turned out to be poison in the end.
"Androids? You got your hands on those too?" Sang-goo said as he listened.
"Military models. They were sitting in containers right on deck. Mostly robot dogs and robot cattle."
"How do they operate? Voice control works too, right?"
"Th-that's right. I'll need to run some upgrades, but you can use voice commands for now."
"It'll be dark soon. We should start immediately."
"N-now? Are you sure that's wise?"
"Whether it's wise or not, we don't have a choice. I'm the only one who can get down there. Isn't that why you came to ask me?"
"Mm…."
It was welcome news, he had to admit. But people have consciences, and Team Leader Baek couldn't lift his head over how readily Sang-goo had stepped forward. From the day they'd first met in Seoul last year until now — how much help had this man given him? There was a time Baek had flown high as a National Intelligence Service executive, and now the reality was that whether it was the military or the NIS, everyone desperately needed Boo Sang-goo. It wasn't wounded pride that stung. It was guilt.
But Sang-goo didn't resent these men. Frankly, the world was all but finished, wasn't it? They could survive well enough without going out of their way to help anyone. Yet these were diligent public servants who'd risked their lives to secure supplies for the civilians in their camp.
"Make sure to pay me back in equipment later."
"If it's a request from you, Sang-goo, I'd hand over a helicopter without blinking!"
"I wouldn't know how to fly one anyway."
Choked up, Team Leader Baek ground his teeth together and grabbed Sang-goo's hand in a hard clasp.
Tutututututu—
About two minutes after leaving Yeongdo District, one of the helicopters began its slow descent. Their destination: CVX-01. The Gwangmyeong — Bright Light — a medium-sized carrier of the Republic of Korea Navy.
Its size was somewhat modest compared to the aircraft carriers of their ally, the United States, but it could still house several thousand crew members along with a sizable complement of helicopters, armored vehicles, reconnaissance drones, and unmanned combat aircraft. Of course, since it had been scrambled during the Zombie Break to carry the president and senior officials to safety, it carried only two lonely fighter jets — and with no pilots left, they were about as useful as decorations. In exchange, it held several helicopters and was stuffed full of weapons, ammunition, rations, and supplies, which was the one mercy in all of it.
"You're really sure about going in without backup?!"
The moment the helicopter touched down, Team Leader Baek Sang-jin climbed out after him. A fully armed squad was naturally already at combat readiness. They'd wiped out every zombie on deck during their first visit, so the surface was safe for now — but the instant they descended below, there was no telling where the things might come lunging from.
Sang-goo ran a final check on his rifle, ammunition, and medic box, then spoke.
"No offense, but you'd only be in the way."
"Damn it… you're so right I can't even argue."
It wasn't that he looked down on them. The truth was simply the truth. Boo Sang-goo was completely immune to normal zombies. Bites didn't so much as faze him — worse than that, the things didn't even register his existence. If people trailed behind him in a crowd, he'd become nothing more than bait dragging zombies toward them from every direction.
The destination was Deck 8. With no way of knowing how long the bloodbath would last before he even got there, it was better for Sang-goo to move fast and alone.
"These two will help."
Team Leader Baek unfolded two metal cases. Rising slowly from within them were the robots known as Little Dog and Big Cow. The robot dog, reportedly used in special forces operations, was built primarily for reconnaissance — locating traps, using its scanners to sweep for ambushes, and lending a hand with search missions. Sang-goo had worked with Big Cow before. Depending on the situation, it could haul ammunition or carry a wounded patient from place to place.
"When you reach the cargo terminal on Deck 8, the exit route will be painted on the wall. I'll give you the code — once you open it from the inside, escaping will be easy. We'll be holding position below."
"Understood. I'll see you at the underground exit, then."
"Oh, and take this. One of the special helmets we just acquired."
A special helmet loaded with search functions, a gas-blocking filter, and an oxygen mask system. It linked to both Little Dog and Big Cow. Sang-goo strapped it on without hesitation. It synced with the tablet mounted on his forearm and brought up its menu, and it wasn't hard to use. He'd already mastered it in short order.
"Sang-goo."
Team Leader Baek held out his hand. It was all he had to offer — nothing but his prayers for good luck. Guilt had drained his face to a corpse's pallor.
"Don't worry about me."
With all the equipment loaded onto Big Cow, Boo Sang-goo checked his in-ear monitors. What more was there to say? He shook the man's hand, then turned away without a flicker of hesitation.
"Little. Big. Follow me."
Tototototot—
Without fur, but springing along light on its feet in a form that was, in truth, every bit a puppy's. The robot dog — sized like a small seven- or eight-kilogram breed — took the left flank. Whirrr— vmmm— The robot cow plodded along on the right, step by labored step.
Broad shoulders. And yet, from behind, a strangely lonely silhouette. Walking boldly into the dark, he had only two machines for company — heading for a dungeon, a vast hell itself, crawling with thousands of zombies.
All he offered was a thin, effortless smile.
"Son of a bitch…."
"Damn it…!"
"That's a different breed entirely. No ordinary human, that one…."
The moment Sang-goo entered the underground, the exclamations burst out as if on cue. They were frustrated at their own helplessness. But what could they do? That place was a hell of thousands of zombies — and now they knew some of them were immune to sound drones. Going in after him would be suicide on top of suicide. They were shorthanded as it was. They'd already lost an entire squad today alone.
"We do what we can do. Get your heads on straight and move!"
Only at Team Leader Baek's roar did the soldiers finally stir.
Deck 3, underground.
Wearing the helmet for the first time, with all its features, hadn't been hard to adapt to. But the deeper they went, the narrower the corridors grew and the more corpses piled up, forcing him to watch every step — and his pace slowed accordingly. The one blessing was that Little Dog scanned ahead, spraying laser light, while Big Cow covered the rear, taking the burden of guarding both directions off his shoulders.
In all this distance, he'd killed fewer than five zombies. Some had been cut down by the friendly forces who'd infiltrated earlier, but the real reason was that the direct route from Deck 3 to Deck 4 was blocked, forcing them through the connecting corridors. Colonel Oh and his men had apparently slammed the doors shut in their retreat. He'd need to find a detour. He could blast the doors open with explosives, but doing that from the start would be painting a giant sign that read come kill me for anything down here listening.
Shortest route is through the Deck 3 corridor to the stairwell down to Deck 4. If that's sealed too, so be it. That's when the explosives come out.
Sang-goo checked his tablet one more time. Around Deck 3, Little Dog — which had been ranging ahead the entire time — shrewdly picked up the pace again.
Tot-tot-tot-tot—
But its speed began to flag. As if the real descent started here, the landscape changed: brutally mangled corpses came into view, along with rooms branching off in honeycomb clusters. Most of the doors hung open, and inside, shattered bodies filled every one. Even a rough glance told the story. In some rooms, the marks of suicide. In others, the wreckage of being overrun by a zombie horde. Rotting, desiccated chunks of flesh.
He'd seen scenes like this to the point of numbness over the past five months. But only the setting had changed — moved wholesale from the city down into this hull — and the grimace it pulled from him stayed the same.
Special helmet, ballistic vest, rifle and sidearm, axe, katana, longsword, plus a backpack stuffed with ammunition and rations. Even with the medic box and spare food and ammunition riding on Big Cow, the gear dangling off his body was considerable. The cramped spaces, the pressure of knowing an enemy could appear at any moment — it wore on the nerves like nothing else.
This really is different from fighting topside.
Facing an experience unlike anything he'd known in the open air, Sang-goo quietly steadied himself, telling himself he'd come out of this a level stronger.
At the far end of Deck 3, the entrance to Deck 4 came into view.
Beep—
Little Dog, ranging ahead with its laser scan, froze and sent a signal. Something was blocking the way.
"Guard position."
Bringing both robots to alert, Sang-goo closed the distance quickly and surveyed the scene. A door, stopped halfway through closing. Wedged in its gap were three hulking figures. Dead, by every appearance.
Mutants?
All three were built on a massive scale. Their exact height was hard to gauge, but they were at least Sang-goo's own size, and despite the long decay, each one looked to top a hundred kilograms.
Caucasians? The US Navy was here too?
What was strangest of all was that all three had died with their arms outstretched toward where Sang-goo now stood. As if they'd been in a desperate flight from something and been crushed in the doorway mid-escape. The rotting bodies showed gunshot wounds and the scars of violent struggle.
And then there was something even more suspicious.
There's nothing inside their heads.
Three giants. Every single one of them had the back of the skull opened wide — and the interior was hollow. Not torn at and fed upon. It looked as if someone had cleanly extracted the brains and their attachments, and only those, and carried them off.
What in God's name happened down here?