A Ladder in the Shaft
“Hey, there's a ladder here?”
“Why didn't you tell me real zombies were that pathetic, sunbae!?”
“Even real zombies weren't that bad! If I'd known, I would've grabbed a warhammer instead of this machete! Or a fire axe!”
Abandoning the rear guard, the four armed people clustered up front, blasting a path down to the floor below.
No matter how you mangled their bodies, you couldn't put them down without turning their brains to complete mush—and even then, they twitched sporadically, like they weren't fully dead.
The group shoved through with grimaces of disgust, checking the number painted on the wall.
Just four more floors to the second safe zone.
But as everyone knew, even reaching it wouldn't mean much rest.
“Damn, that thing's heading for the stairs.”
A heavy thudding—nothing like zombie or survivor footsteps—echoed down the stairwell.
They bolted downward, pausing only briefly at the safe zone entrance to confirm no one lagged behind, then swapped magazines.
“How much ammo left? I've got one mag plus... four rounds.”
“Exactly one mag for me, sunbae.”
“Same—one mag and one in the chamber. Arin?”
“This one I'm swapping now, plus one mag in the bag... and one in the chamber.”
“Shit, we burned through it all just getting here.”
They lamented that with more time, they could've handled the slower ones with blades to save bullets.
Steeling themselves, they cracked the door open.
Beyond it stretched a space like the upper safe zone—same layout, briefly visible.
But neither Arin nor the Support Team rushed in.
“What the hell happened here in such a short time...?”
A red-drenched horror beyond guessing, just as the Support Team said.
The door released a fishy stench that assaulted their noses, spreading through the stairwell.
Fresh blood and chunks of flesh dripped from walls and ceiling—no pristine white paint or beige tiles anymore.
No signs of life inside, but that absence only heightened the dread, freezing them in place.
“Why aren't we going in... Ugh... blegh!”
“Kyaaak!”
The sight robbed even Anomaly Response and Management Agency veterans of words—civilians didn't stand a chance.
They'd covered their mouths through twitching, brain-smashed zombies, but this broke them: screams and vomiting erupted.
With the monster descending from above, no one could suggest entering.
Arin stepped in first, scanning side to side.
'Feels surreal since this didn't come from my body.'
She recalled the church—endlessly butchered by fanatics, splattering herself everywhere, regenerating, repeating until the place drowned in red.
Through the blood pooling on the floor, she spotted countless footprints... and drag marks.
'No, not dragged—crawled.'
Handprints came into focus, leading toward the opposite stairwell.
Piecing it together, she judged the area safe for now.
“Everyone, I know you hate it, but this spot seems secure... Come in. Hurry!”
As she tried persuading them, the signal device by the office door blared—then the stairwell ones.
Arin and the Support Team realized the monster hadn't stopped, yanking the stragglers inside by force.
But the fear
But fear of the unseen monster paled against the visible gore; some balked at the door, others entered then bolted back out, retching.
“Get in here already, damn it...!”
The chained signals—from stairs to office—worked, drawing the monster's attention as the stairwell thuds muffled briefly.
But it wouldn't last.
Arin pounded her chest in frustration, understanding their terror all too well—stuck between urges.
Then the Support Team dropped an unexpected fix.
“Hey, you fucking cowards! Get in or I'll put you down easy from behind—one by one!”
“One bullet to the head beats getting chewed!”
Aiming at the rearmost guy to prove it wasn't a joke, the Support Team counted down—and fired.
“Eh...?”
The shot deliberately missed, grazing his temple; cement shards from the wall impact stung his face.
As he froze in shock, the hesitation vanished—everyone surged inside.
Arin slammed and locked the door behind the last one, exhaling.
“Haa... A bit extreme, but good call...”
“Ah, fuck, missed. Wasted a bullet.”
“...Huh?”
The Anomaly Response and Management Agency team had successfully herded survivors to the second safe zone.
But twenty floors remained to test their escape plan.
The elevator here was dead too, for some reason.
“Guess we're taking the stairs again.”
Leaving the puking, fainting, or supporting fainted ones behind, the Support Team lead approached the downward stairs, listening beyond the closed door and shaking his head.
“Looks like everything here moved to the stairs.”
“Sunbae, what now? Elevator's busted, only one stairwell, monster above, and we're low on ammo.”
“And seeing this mess, no guarantee that thing upstairs is the only one below.”
“Fuuuck, we're screwed. This difficulty's too high for wimpy Support Team like us.”
Overhearing, Arin drew her tomahawk and pried open the powerless elevator doors.
Peering in, her shadow stretched across the opposite wall.
She scanned up and down the dark shaft—too deep to see the bottom, elevator car invisible even if lit.
Her eyes locked on the inspection ladder bolted to one wall.
“Huff... haa... Fucking exhausting...”
Hooking her arm on a rung to catch her breath, Arin wedged her foot into the slight overhang of the doors.
She jammed the tomahawk into the gap, twisted—and slipped her body through.
“Tenth floor...”
Muttering, she leaned her weight to fling the doors wide.
Zombies stirred at the noise; she dove inside, hiding.
Ducking low to avoid detection, she crept to the opposite stairwell door, flung it open.
She shut her eyes, inhaled deep—then spun and sprinted back, screaming.
“Come oooout!!!”
Yelling to alert everything, she bolted as presences stirred all around.
Zombies poured from everywhere, screeching in pursuit.
Spotting her open elevator door, Arin leaped in, grabbed the ladder, and plastered herself to the wall.
“Huff... Here!! Fresh... haa... meat!!!”
Gasping to her limit but still bellowing, she climbed a few rungs, watching zombies close in.
She ducked and peered down.
“Idiots.”
Unlike Arin, who snagged the ladder, the zombies lacked the brains.
They plummeted into the deep shaft, one after another.
Each impact boomed up the shaft.
No more sounds; Arin descended, hopped over the doors, snapped a chem light, and tossed it by the stairs.
“Oh, she's back!”
She walked up ten floors via stairs, rapped lightly on the door to signal.
“Huuu... krrk...”
“You killed it, Arin.”
“Haaa... Down to... the tenth...”
“Can't believe you pulled that crazy stunt. They weren't kidding about Agency staff being monsters.”
“Arin's basically one~”
“Grrk... Shut up... Support Team...”
The Support Team teased back at a civilian's comment, then patted sweat-drenched Arin's shoulders in encouragement.
Initially, they'd balked at her pointing out the ladder—twenty floors down would exhaust anyone to death.
Even by apartment standards, twenty floors was over sixty meters.
Walking or running sixty meters—even stairs—was easy; laddering it was hell.
'You're misunderstanding—we're taking the stairs. Let the zombies use the ladder.'
To their baffled looks, Arin's simple plan: descend ladder, open elevator door below, lure all zombies in to fall.
The shaft's depth would wreck them; even survivors, the elevator doors opposite would hold against the crush.
Arin, the planner, handled the lure—regeneratable if botched.
Result: success.
“Alright, ten floors down are safer now. Let's move quietly.”
The Support Team clapped; relieved to flee the gore, survivors bustled to the stairs.
“Junwoo-ya, let's go.”
“Mom, wait.”
“Go Junwoo! I told you not to go to those people!”
“No, Mom, Dad—they're helping us. No need for that!”
“You little...!”
Shaking off his parents, drenched-in-sweat Junwoo approached Arin, who leaned against the wall, guarding while resting.
“Arin-ssi, you okay?”
“Hoo... No...”
She waved him off with a can't you see? look—go down already.
Turning her back, Junwoo knelt.
“Hop on. You look like walking's tough.”
“Don't waste energy. Take your parents.”
“...Th-this isn't wasting—it's preserving key assets... right...?”
Blushing at his earnest excuse to help, Arin chuckled.
“I've got gun, axe, bag—I'm heavy.”
“I'm strong enough for one Arin-ssi!”
“Sweaty and soaked?”
“I don't mi—.”
“Alright then.”
She slumped onto his back mid-sentence; Junwoo jolted.
Arin looped her arms around his neck.
“Guess this big bro owes you. Thanks~”
“Y-yeah...”
Staggering under Arin, Junwoo ignored his parents' anxious, suspicious stares ahead—his pounding heart drowned everything.
Just ten floors to the next safe zone, per plan.