The Veteran's Pull
“No way, he's just heading out like that? Totally doing whatever the hell he wants.”
Jaejeong said, his face a mask of bewilderment.
But Beom-sik had been stone-faced ever since meeting Youngman.
“What's your deal? What's the problem?”
“It's weird.”
“What is?”
“That old man's acting suspicious as hell. Streets are piled with corpses, monsters crawling everywhere, and he's calm as can be? Everything he says sounds like he saw this shit coming a mile away.”
“Keep it down.”
Jaejeong glanced down the hallway before continuing.
“So what do you wanna do about it?”
“You aren't seriously... buying what that old man's selling, are you?”
Beom-sik narrowed his eyes.
“And if I am? Why? At least it's worth considering.”
“Ha... Are you just stupid, or plain naive? Looking at your face, 'naive' feels like a stretch.”
“Say it nice if you're gonna say it. Don't piss me off.”
Jaejeong's face twisted.
“Doesn't matter anyway. Whatever I choose. Right? You don't need my input. We're going our separate ways.”
“Oh, right. My bad, I forgot for a sec. Yeah, go your way. I'm sticking with him.”
“...Hold up.”
Beom-sik grabbed Jaejeong as he moved to open the door.
“What?”
“If you're gonna follow, do it right. No one knows if that repair shop's safe or not. Isn't it weird he's so damn sure?”
“What do I care? We're going separate ways, aren't we?”
Jaejeong shoved Beom-sik aside roughly and opened the door, his face full of disappointment.
Outside, Youngman stared gravely out the window.
“Hey, talk's over, so come on in. And from now on, don't just decide shit on your own and bail like that.”
“Yeah, sure. So, how'd it go?”
“You heard everything anyway.”
Beom-sik muttered, eyeing Youngman as he sauntered into the cafeteria, arms crossed defiantly.
“Of course.”
“Why'd you even leave in the first place? This isn't a game.”
“But thanks to me stepping out for a bit, you two could have a real heart-to-heart, no? Even a useless wall makes a difference when it's there or gone. Like your relationship.”
The two stared each other down, and Jaejeong shook his head first.
“Whatever. I've decided to go with you for now, old man. But I've got a question...”
“How do I know the repair shop's safe?”
Youngman cut in.
“You really were listening.”
“Why plug my ears if I can hear? How do I know... Yeah, fair question in this mess. All I can say is, you'll see when we get there.”
“That's it?”
Beom-sik jumped in.
“Faith starts before you see it. Makes it easier to accept when you do.”
“Ah... Always talking in riddles. I don't get that stuff. Just tell me how we're getting there and where the shop is. Ignore him—he's not coming anyway.”
“Alright. The repair shop's a few blocks toward Yeouido from the intersection up ahead. Problem is, those things are swarming outside.”
“Any plan?”
Youngman stroked his chin, looking troubled.
“Well...”
“Well? That's all? You pitched this with zero backup?”
“Better than one, aren't three?”
Beom-sik shook his head at the sheepish grin.
He'd thought something was off, but maybe he'd overestimated the old man.
No plan at all. Made him feel pathetic for even doubting.
Then—
Thud-thud-thud-thud!
The helicopter roar returned.
Growing louder, like it was passing right overhead.
Youngman reacted first.
He thrust half his body out the big cafeteria window the instant he heard it.
Clinging precariously to the frame with one hand, he craned his neck to track its path.
One nudge and he'd plummet—dizzying to watch.
“Military chopper!”
Youngman's shout pierced the deafening roar.
But by the time Jaejeong and Beom-sik peered out, a massive spotlight swept the ground below, hiding the chopper's shape, let alone color.
Jaejeong asked,
“What? I can't see shit—how do you know?”
“You gotta sniff diesel from gasoline every time? I know it when I see it. Anyway, for us, it's like rain from a clear sky. No—more like a downpour.”
Youngman squinted into the wind whipped up by the blades, then dropped his gaze to the street.
Just like he'd said, hordes of infected were surging after the helicopter in a massive migration.
Hours ago, the first chopper had cleared a bunch, but explosions had reset everything.
This one was a godsend—a downpour quenching drought.
“See? How we getting to the shop now?”
Youngman shrugged nonchalantly as he pulled back from the window.
“Then we move now. If another comes from the opposite side... God, don't even think it. Let's go quick.”
“You... really not coming?”
Youngman paused at the cafeteria door, glancing back.
Seemed uneasy leaving Beom-sik alone.
Or selfishly wanting one more body.
“Teaming up ain't my style. I lead, or it clashes—everyone's got their own thoughts. If we meet again, let's make it a clean world without those things.”
“The world was dirty before they showed up.”
With that, Youngman left with Jaejeong.
Jaejeong kept staring at Beom-sik until the door clicked shut.
Is he really staying solo? Or waiting for one last push?
He wasn't ordinary, but even Lu Bu reborn couldn't solo this apocalypse.
Jaejeong lingered, staring into the cafeteria.
Watching, Youngman suddenly decided he had to bring Beom-sik along.
He sensed an invisible tension binding the two.
It kept them apart yet inseparable.
At least, that's how it looked to him.
Clang—
Youngman flung the door open and strode toward Beom-sik, who gazed out the window.
Startling, but Beom-sik didn't flinch.
No threat in the old man's approach.
“Hey.”
Beom-sik met his eyes—that was answer enough.
“Come with us.”
“Told you, no.”
“If I was asking, I'd be politer.”
“What the hell?”
Beom-sik shot back, irritated.
“Don't care about your decision. That look's no threat to me. Quit the kid tantrum and get up. I hate repeating myself. Drove my wife nuts.”
“What're you even talking about?”
“She died early. Thought I'd follow, but I hung on. Funny, right? Survived bullet hell, but wife goes to cancer. Keeps nagging me—maybe my damn temper stressed her out.”
Beom-sik opened his mouth for a retort, but words failed.
Random as hell—what reaction was right?
Undeterred, Youngman pressed on.
“Last op, same vibe. Didn't know it'd be last... She sent me off silent, face just like yours now.”
“Writing a novel?”
“Don't care what you think. That's how I see it. If I leave, you'll die—like her that day. And crucially... I need you now. Don't know how many needed you before, but a man's gotta follow those who need him, right?”
Beom-sik licked his lips, eyes troubled.
The guy just spouted unanswerable lines.
“If you dig in after this, I'll drop it. Your character issue. Even if you're tempting, no basic humanity means no use. See... it's 35 past. Wait till 40. Done.”
With that, Youngman exited again.
Jaejeong waited outside, stunned.
“Why?”
“Nah, just... sorry about your wife.”
“Thanks.”
“But why the sudden persuasion?”
“Did what you wanted.”
“Me?”
Jaejeong furrowed his brow.
“First time seeing him, but seems like a good friend to you. Isn't that friendship?”
“I'm a cop, he's...”
“I know. Rough idea of your beef. But what's it matter now? World's gone mad—priorities?”
Jaejeong swallowed a retort, looking away.
Time passed.
“One minute left.”
Youngman murmured, checking his wrist.
His analog watch ticked to zero.
Jaejeong shook his head and turned first.
He hated Beom-sik.
Hated? More like vermin.
Looking back, he'd failed as a cop plenty.
Even veered into crime-ish territory.
Reason and conscience clashed endlessly inside.
He rationalized: his slips weren't like criminals' sins.
Blamed them for starting it.
True enough.
They poked first at the innocent.
Wore down the upright, twisted them with filth.
All criminals.
That was it.
No personal grudge against Beom-sik.
Just the criminal label blocking his view.
He knew, but couldn't shake the bias.
But now, Beom-sik was necessary.
Selfish, sure, but undeniable survival boost.
Feet wouldn't move easy.
Jaejeong lit a cigarette.
Had to go anyway.
Nothing beat a smoke for tangled feelings.
For him, at least.
He puffed deep, hit the elevator button.
Right then—
Clang—
The cafeteria door swung open.
Infected People