The Countdown Ends

Clatter-clatter—

After jolting and rattling up a rough mountain road, I finally reached my destination. Deep in the folds of Mount Seorak, tucked into a spot where the mountains wrapped around it like a folding screen, stood a small house. The locals used to call the place where Grandma and I had lived the Chestnut Valley House.

No one had lived there for years now, so the power company had come and removed the equipment—the house had no electricity. Still, I'd come out during the last Chuseok holiday to pull the weeds and give the place a good cleaning, so it wasn't in a shameful state by any means.

I stepped out of the car and looked at the vegetable garden beside the fence. Last night in my dream, Grandma had been weeding the cabbage rows right there. I lifted my head and gazed up at the hill behind the house.

Truthfully, it wasn't a hill at all but a proper mountain—but compared to the towering peaks of Mount Seorak faintly visible in the distance, it looked so modestly small that everyone just called it the hill. Halfway up it stood a massive chestnut tree, and beneath that tree lay Grandma's grave.

I'll see you soon, Grandma.

Cre-eak—

The hinges clamored noisily as I opened the gate. In an emergency, noise like that could be a real problem. I walked straight back to the car, grabbed a can of lubricant spray, and doused the hinges thoroughly. A few rounds of opening and closing the gate later, the sound was gone.

I entered the yard and stopped in front of the house. It had two rooms and a kitchen joined together, the old-fashioned kind with a wood-fired ondol heating system. There was also a small separate wing, used as storage, with a bathroom attached.

Using the key hidden beneath the shoe cabinet, I unlocked the storage room first. Inside, farming and firewood tools lay scattered among boxes big and small. I pulled one box out and opened it.

A compound bow and several dozen arrows. A city dweller would probably have a hard time understanding why anyone kept such a thing at home. But no joke—in a remote valley like this, where you genuinely had to compete with wild animals for territory, it was essential. And unlike hunting rifles or crossbows, bows and arrows could be owned without any regulations whatsoever. I'd kept it in its dedicated case, so it was in excellent condition.

I slowly drew the compound bow's string. Growing up in this mountain valley, I'd developed strength that belied my slim frame—strong enough to draw a 70-pound bow without much trouble.

Still usable.

The bow was in good shape, and apparently so was my strength. I'd neglected exercise almost entirely since starting my office job, but every once in a rare blue moon I'd still grudgingly push some cold iron around at the company gym.

I set the bow down and checked the remaining time.

Is this a game?

Hold out for a month and they'd hand me a reward—absurd, yet somehow I couldn't help feeling intrigued. Then again, I was curious what form the zombie virus's assault on Korea would actually take.

Let's find out whether this zombie apocalypse is really happening, or whether I've lost my mind.

I returned to the car, picked up my smartphone, and tuned in to the radio. Cell reception out here wasn't great, but it wasn't completely dead either.

Thump-thump—

With a pounding heart, I began searching the internet.

WHAM!

A passenger ferry slammed into the structures along Songdo Beach and ran aground. The ship had departed ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠from Dalian, China, and was supposed to enter the Incheon Port International Passenger Terminal. But just before arrival, for reasons unknown, it lost navigability and crashed into Songdo Beach Park, 1.5 kilometers south of its intended destination.

Coast guard and land police had turned out in full force to investigate the cause of the accident and secure the scene. The ferry lay seriously tilted, its forward third grounded on the beach. The coast guard attempted radio contact with the bridge again and again, but received no response.

"What the hell? Did the entire crew fall asleep at once? The ship was supposed to enter the port—why did it sail into a park?"

"I don't understand it, sir! The pilot was already aboard!"

The cabin crew managing the passengers were Chinese, while the captain and every navigating officer were Korean. And to ensure a safe entry, a pilot from Incheon Port had boarded the ferry as it entered coastal waters. With a veteran among veterans of maritime piloting on board, the coast guard simply could not wrap their heads around this absurd accident.

"There are passengers visible."

A police officer flying a drone over the deck spoke up. Everyone nearby swarmed him, crowding around the screen on his controller.

The enormous crowd of passengers on the deck was all stretching both arms toward the drone in perfect unison. Watching this inexplicable collective behavior, the officers felt something deeply off about the whole scene.

"Isn't something a little wrong with those people?"

"A little? Something is very wrong!"

Then it happened.

Thud—

Someone fell from the deck. The officers startled and stared. The distance from the ground to the ferry deck easily exceeded ten meters—a person had just dropped from the height of a five-story building.

And the faller wasn't alone.

Thud—

Thud— thud—

People began hurling themselves off the deck by the dozen.

"Why are those people doing that?"

The officers had never experienced anything like this. Then something even more astonishing happened.

The people who had crashed into the ground scrambled to their feet as if nothing had happened. The officers could only stare in shock, frozen, unable to act.

KEEEAGH!

With roars like beasts, they charged at the police.

I combed through the videos and breaking news reports flooding the internet by the minute. First, I examined the news from reputable outlets in detail. The fact that a passenger ferry from China had collided with Songdo Beach and run aground was established, reported fact. But the videos posted by individuals, showing what looked like zombies, were impossible to verify as authentic.

Except that videos of similar content were now being uploaded explosively—hundreds within a very short time.

Analyzing the situation calmly, there was only one answer.

The ferry from China was carrying zombies!

Just then, another video appeared, this one with the word zombie right in the title.

I played the video. The signal out here was poor, so the quality flickered between bad and worse, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠but the feed never cut out entirely. Zombies were crossing the bridge linking Songdo to the mainland, moving toward eastern Incheon.

I replayed the video again and again, studying it closely. Zombies sprinting like madmen were lunging at living people, biting and tearing into them. The bitten would turn into zombies themselves, join the horde, and start running—and with that, the zombies' numbers multiplied exponentially.

It was hardly any different from a scene out of a horror film. At this rate of spread, all of Incheon and Seoul could be overrun with zombies by the end of the day.

Comments had piled up beneath the video.

Most people who saw the video assumed it was fake footage edited with AI. But a few comments seemed to have been written by people actually witnessing zombies with their own eyes.

Now it was practically certain. Just one last thing to confirm.

I searched the internet for popular restaurants in Songdo and started calling them. Songdo Jokbal, the Songdo sushi place, the Songdo galbi joint, the Songdo dumpling house, the Songdo bakery... I called more than ten places, and not a single one picked up. It was lunch service time right now. For every single restaurant to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠be ignoring their phones at this hour of the day was decidedly not normal.

It's 100% certain. The zombie apocalypse is real!

I wasn't crazy, and every message floating before my eyes was the truth. A horror movie becoming reality—the feeling made the hair on my neck stand on end. And yet relief washed over me at the same time. Because I was far away from the disaster zone, in the middle of nowhere.

At the very least, today should pass without incident.

I called Team Leader Park.

Riiing-riiing—

"Kim Hyungwoo, how are you feeling? Fever gone?"

"Team Leader, have you seen the news by any chance?"

"What news? I'm heading into a meeting right now, so if it's not urgent, let's talk later."

Click.

Team Leader Park hung up. What meeting happens during the lunch hour? He just didn't want to talk to me during his precious lunch break. Apparently Team Leader Park knew nothing at all about the zombie outbreak yet—which made sense, since the zombies were only just now moving inland from Songdo. I'd meant to at least warn him to be careful, but there didn't seem to be much point now.

I turned my attention back to the message hovering before my eyes.

I had no idea who was sending me these messages, but thanks to them, I'd managed to evacuate somewhere safe before the outbreak.

I began unloading my things from the car. I didn't take everything out—in case I had to abandon the valley and flee somewhere else in a hurry. For now, I carried in the food and drinks I'd need to eat. Then I grabbed a big empty container from the storage room and hauled water up from the stream.

Back in the day, I could scoop stream water up and drink it straight with no problem. But after so many years living in Seoul, drinking it raw now might earn me a case of travelers' stomach. I pictured myself reaching the height of a survival crisis, only to be doubled over with diarrhea.

It was simultaneously hilarious and terrifying. So: bottled water from the store for drinking, stream water for washing and laundry. And once the bottled water ran out, I could boil the stream water. Firewood was lying around everywhere, after all.

Anyway, water's covered.

Food was sufficient for the moment too. If I stretched it carefully, two months at least, no problem. And a mountain valley like this had plenty of things you could forage and live off of even in winter.

I pulled a portable solar charger out of the car and spread it out in a patch of good light, then plugged in my phone battery pack to charge. I didn't know how long the internet would stay up, so I needed to gather as much outside information as possible before it cut out. On sunny days I could charge with solar, and on cloudy days or at night I could run the car engine to charge—so power was no issue either.

Hmm.

I'd confirmed I was lacking nothing for the immediate future, but the unease hadn't quite left me. The single greatest threat to my survival was, obviously, zombies. And the second most dangerous thing would be living humans. The laws and order humanity had built were bound to collapse entirely before long. A society where nothing remained but each individual's primal survival instinct would be no different from the wild.

It was something you could know without having to live through it.

I took up the bow and stepped out into the yard. Behind the house stood a target for archery practice—store-bought targets were expensive, so I'd gathered materials and built it myself. Back in high school, I shot well enough that my friends called me the Divine Archer of Chestnut Valley. I'd hit a pheasant in mid-flight more than once. Hating to let that skill rust, I'd even gotten in a little practice when I visited last Chuseok.

I nocked an arrow with a practice tip and drew the string, then aimed at the target and loosed.

Whoosh—

The arrow flew true and struck the target. Not the dead center, but the second ring. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Whoosh— Another shot. This one thudded into the very center. From such a short distance, it wasn't anything remarkable.

Nocking a third arrow, I murmured under my breath.

"Zombies or people—honestly, the best outcome is nobody ever coming at all."