I'm Screwed
"People keep going out and vanishing."
The first feeling that rose in me when I heard those words was pure bewilderment. Missing? In a world where people were dying by the truckload every single day, wasn't it just business as usual that anyone who stepped outside and failed to come back had simply turned into a zombie and was now wandering around somewhere?
"Yeah. Nothing special about that in this world."
As if he'd read my mind, Yohan added those words himself. He said he had thought the same thing I had—but the look on his face stayed grim all the same.
"I don't know about other places, but on our side at least, this isn't the first or second time people have gone missing."
That was what Yohan told me. In just the past few days, a group had slipped out of the Church carrying supplies. Normally people like that went off to start their own little crews somewhere.
"It's too quiet. Way too quiet. They took a serious amount of gear, and there's been nothing. You know anything about it, Siwoo?"
Yohan's eyes locked onto me. The intent behind the question was obvious. He knew I was one of the people who moved through this city more actively than almost anyone else—and he knew exactly why.
A group that had stolen supplies and run. The first thing that flashed through my mind was the muscle zombie that had tried to chomp me like a rabid dog earlier today, and the corpses scattered around it.
But whether to say anything about it made me hesitate. It wasn't certain, and the people I'd run into on the way out hadn't looked like Church people, at least.
"No, I don't know. But I did see something weird today."
"Something weird… spit it out."
"Just checking—among the ones who went missing, was there anyone with artificial muscle implants?"
"…Artificial muscle. We do have people like that on our side, but none of the missing ones had them."
I told Yohan everything I'd seen. The butchered bodies. The radio in the muscle zombie's bag. The people who'd come looking for them.
"A radio that looked brand-new. That's off."
"Right? Things seemed like they were about to get big, so I left it alone."
"Good call. Zombies alone are enough of a headache—what the hell is going on out there? Don't tell me someone's running experiments."
Yohan muttered something that wasn't quite a complaint and furrowed his brow. That sensation of something moving in a place he couldn't see. But with no hard evidence and no clear lead, all he could do was spin empty theories. He let out a long breath, got his emotions under control, and climbed down from the wrecked car.
"Let's go, Hayun. Siwoo—be careful, just in case. I know what you're looking for, but it's too damn dangerous."
"Got it, oppa. But looking for what?"
"There's something. Good seeing you after so long, Siwoo."
"Take care, hyung."
Yohan didn't even turn around at my goodbye—just waved a hand as he and Hayun disappeared down the side alley.
What I was looking for. My goal, and maybe a destination so vague it barely counted as one. I had told Yohan about it a long time ago, but I hadn't expected him to still remember.
Even so, I believed it really existed. I had no choice but to believe. In a world like this, living without any purpose at all was the fastest way to lose your mind. That was why I was one of the people who ranged through this city more aggressively than almost anyone else.
"Shelter."
A safety house that existed only as an urban legend. That was what I was hunting for.
Kang—! Kagagak—!
In an apartment building where sunlight never reached, deep shadow covered everything. Sharp metal rang out, and sparks flew, lighting the dark for a heartbeat.
"You fuckers—whose crew are you?!"
How the hell did it come to this?
They had simply been tracking the group that had run off with the supplies. The trail had cut off at a path leading toward the apartments, so they had come here—that was all.
"Huuuk—"
Kaang!!
The weight behind the blade he blocked with his machete made his wrist scream. One of the Gym group that had briefly crossed paths with Cheon Siwoo—Hwang Taehyung, the big man who played big-brother to the rest—forced the knife away with his machete.
"Hoyeong! Kim Hoyeong!"
Hoyeong's already gone.
Following Cheon Siwoo's information, they had come up to the fourth floor. They had confirmed Kang Hyeonseok's corpse, searched the area, and found the rest of their people collapsed in a room along with emptied bags. They had gathered what they could and were on their way out.
On the stairs they had run into soldiers in black military uniforms—black balaclavas, gear that looked unmistakably professional. Before anyone could even ask who they were, a sudden ambush put a knife through the chest of the man called Kim Hoyeong without a scrap of resistance.
"…Hey. We didn't see anything. We'll say Hoyeong got bitten by a zombie and we put him down. Can we just walk away?"
The hand on the machete was starting to shake. Military knife or not, the speed and skill closing the gap while ignoring the difference in reach… and the taut muscle under those uniforms, the kind you only got from professional work, was visible even through the fabric.
Five of those soldier types. And the man at the back was a full head taller than the rest, built even bigger. The only reason Hwang Taehyung was still standing was the narrow corridor. The second those rifles hanging across their chests swung his way, even that thread of hope would snap.
"We'll leave quietly. We won't tell a soul. Just spare our lives."
Weren't all the soldiers supposed to be dead? I was sure the munitions factories and the ammo stockpiles had all been used up.
It was pathetic, but when it came to staying alive, what wouldn't a man do? Hwang Taehyung spoke the words, but his eyes were cold and sharp, flicking fast over their gear, trying to pin down which unit they belonged to.
"Bullshit. I can see you rolling your eyes from back here. Want to live? Eyes down first."
"Kk…"
The man at the rear spoke in a low, freezing voice. Hwang Taehyung started to look away for half a second—
"He actually looks down. Cute."
Pook—!
"Keok…"
The attacker closed the distance even faster than during the ambush. He seized the wrist holding the machete, snapped the bone with brutal force, and drove his knife deep into Hwang Taehyung's gut at the same time.
"Hyung!"
One of the remaining crew, who had been checking on the fallen Kim Hoyeong, screamed the word like a cry. Cap pulled low over his face, he yanked out his machete and charged for Hwang Taehyung—
Kaang!
Pook! Puk! Seogeok!
The knife knocked the swinging machete aside, stabbed into shoulder and side, then sliced the wrist so the machete clattered free. A kick behind the knee forced him to sit. In one smooth motion the soldier spun, grabbed a fistful of hair, and laid the blade against his throat.
"Aak! Heok, keok, euk…!"
Subdued in an instant. Hwang Taehyung was already curled on the floor, clutching his stomach, dying. Kim Hoyeong was only twitching in his limbs—long past gone.
One of the soldiers who had been watching from the back stepped over Hwang Taehyung, grabbed the empty bag Kim Hoyeong had been carrying, and checked inside.
"Secured."
What he pulled from the bag was a radio—one that looked brand-new. After confirming something, the soldier tucked it into a pouch at his belt and stood.
"Keok… kuh… What… why… why us… please, heok… spare me…"
"Finish it. We pull out."
"Yes, sir."
Even as the man poured out his desperate questions, the one who looked like the leader left that single cold line and started down the stairs. The other soldiers answered without a shred of emotion and followed.
"Please… please, spare me."
His hair was yanked back so hard that his eyes met the soldier holding his life in one hand. Black balaclava, only the eyes visible—for a second those eyes showed something almost like pity.
Pook—
"Keok…"
The blade went into his throat.
"Target?"
"We checked the radio recording. Looks like it went into the underground mall. There's talk of a mutant with one oversized arm."
"Fuck. Already made a host? We go back, re-kit with non-lethal gear, and secure it."
"We're not heading straight there?"
"Five of us, and you want to take that thing without killing it? We need nets, tranquilizer rounds, electro-stim—the whole package—before it calms down."
He walked with his men through this filthy, goddamn place. He was sick of the infected howling that scraped at his ears every night, and he was tired of luring in the idiots who wandered around under the excuse of "securing test subjects" and quietly handing them over.
Truth was, they could probably just go as they were and it wouldn't matter much. Monster or not, bullets still worked. Two or three of them dead besides him, and they'd bag it. But he and these bastards were both at the edge of what they could take. How the people living in this shithole even managed to keep going was beyond him.
"Haa…"
He dropped into the passenger seat and shoved the chair all the way back. The car rolled without a sound. The highways and main roads were owned by the dogs and the horses, so they had to take the long way around on the secret paths they'd cut themselves.
He strangled his rising temper just enough to speak to the junior driving beside him.
"If we head back now, when do you figure we get there?"
"Not sure, sir. But I don't want to come out here again."
"Same here, fuck. You think they're just going to leave us alone, though?"
"No, sir. We'll probably wash up and get new orders the second we walk in."
"I'll stall hard for about three days. Tell the guys to rest."
"Yes, sir. Understood. Thank you."
"Done."
"Kagagagak!"
"I'm fucked. Shit."
"Kiiik!"
I, Cheon Siwoo—a man with one full year of survival under his belt, the apocalypse equivalent of an elite-course graduate—was currently a dead man walking, being chased by two sprinting zombies.
After splitting from Yohan, I had been heading back to my own base when I had the rotten luck to walk straight into a pack. Ordinary zombies I could have shaken without much trouble. But of course, of all the luck in the world, two of the running bastards had to peel out of the group.
—Kiiiik, kkeugeugeugeuk!
"Ah, fuck! Not a pincer—"
While I was hauling ass, another zombie's cry rose up dead ahead. Do I turn and just kill these two first? The second I started to look, the corner of my eye caught a stairwell leading underground.
"Haa…"
Only one way out of a pincer. The mutant that was supposedly in the underground mall worried me, but it beat dying right here. With that thought, I took the stairs down hard and fast.
—Kagageugeuk, kkeureureureuk…
Cries from above. Thankfully nothing tried to follow me down, but they would be prowling up there for a while, no question. I would have to cut through the underground and come up another way.
This is so damn nerve-wracking.
I swallowed even that muttered line and walked the underground mall. Shattered glass. Doors and windows boarded with planks and steel plates. Empty cans rolling underfoot—that was all that was left.
This isn't the underground-mall zone.
News that a mutant had hit the underground mall was already days old. They said people had sent the kids out and dropped the shutters, so either it was still locked in or it had already punched through and gone up.
Even the underground-mall group didn't control the entire mall. No sense of anyone living here. Maybe they had moved the goods and pulled back to somewhere bigger…
Kiiiik! Kung!!
I was walking with a thin thread of hope when a sharp sound cut the air—not from ahead of me, but from behind. I turned. An iron shutter had slammed down hard across the path I had just taken, and outside it, a zombie with one grotesquely oversized arm had both hands locked on the metal.
"Kikikik… kik…"
The thing was making a twisted little sound, like it was delighted to have me trapped.