The Girl with the Tube
While Kang Youngman was gauging the distance to the infected with his machete in hand,
another infected emerged from the direction Han Jaejeong had pointed.
It was a young woman.
Her upper body half-exposed, she charged forward with red lipstick smeared raggedly across her torn lips.
At the sight of her grotesque form, Jaejeong steeled his wavering resolve.
That's not a woman.
No, that's not even human.
If I don't take it down, I'll die.
And this isn't killing. It's just putting something already dead back where it belongs.
He repeated the self-suggestion endlessly, but it wasn't easy.
All that awaited Jaejeong was to act.
But the trouble didn't end there.
Two more appeared in the wake of the one charging at Youngman.
And behind the naked woman, a massive man who easily dwarfed Jaejeong's build came into view.
At a speed utterly mismatched to his bulk.
It was just then that Lee Beom-sik, left without an opponent, hesitated over whom to help.
A small figure slammed into a car on the road and crossed over.
They all seemed to be stragglers broken off from the main pack of infected.
But Beom-sik's legs froze at the sight of the small figure.
She couldn't have been more than eight years old.
Wearing a swim cap and a tube secured around her waist, the little girl came running—and Beom-sik couldn't move a muscle.
It wasn't just because she was a child.
There was some other reason.
Beom-sik's panicked face said as much.
It held something different from fear or terror.
Behind him, a desperate battle had already begun.
Youngman swung his machete to match the speed of the oncoming infected.
Schwick—
One strike, and its head came clean off.
Then he hurled the machete at the ones following.
It spun like a propeller, piercing the face of one infected clean through.
A strike as precise as a machine.
The problem was the infected that leaped over the falling body.
Unable to withstand its speed and force, Youngman grabbed its shoulder and tumbled to the ground with it.
"Damn it!"
He let out a frustrated grunt that said he needed help, but Jaejeong was in just as dire straits.
The hammer he'd buried in the head of the madly charging woman refused to come free.
Even as a hulking mass that could crush him whole barreled toward him from no great distance.
So heavy that each step sent the ground thumping like thunder.
What the hell is this Lee Beom-sik doing?
Jaejeong, thrashing to yank the hammer free, instinctively glanced back.
"Hey! What the fuck are you doing!"
Behind him, Beom-sik lay on the ground wrestling with the tube-wearing child.
The scene was so bizarre it could be mistaken for him playing with a kid.
"Ah, for fuck's sake, you kidding me!"
Jaejeong's shout echoed off the building walls.
But Beom-sik lay flat on the pavement, not moving an inch.
No—he couldn't move.
The tube at least kept some distance between them, letting him cling to life.
"Why the hell won't this thing come out!"
Crack!
With the sound of the skull shattering around the hammer, his right hand whipped out in a wide arc.
He barely kept his balance, nearly toppling backward from the force.
"I don't know either."
Debating whether to help Beom-sik, Jaejeong instead sprinted full-tilt toward the massive figure just meters away.
As the gap closed to point-blank,
Jaejeong stepped onto a red fire hydrant atop the curb and launched himself into the air.
In an instant, he soared higher than the giant's head, swinging the hammer down as he fell.
A near-vertical smash.
Thud!
A dull sound rang out, and the giant's movement halted.
The problem was that it collapsed straight toward Jaejeong in that same pose.
He quickly released the hammer from his grip and rolled aside.
Moments later, the massive body slammed into the pavement.
One second slower, and he'd have been flattened.
At a glance, it was at least two meters tall and over 150 kg—something you'd take a motorcycle crushing you over.
Jaejeong let out a small sigh, sweat beading coldly as he scanned the surroundings.
Youngman had smashed a curbstone into the head of the infected he'd been rolling with and was now dusting off his hands.
Then he hurriedly checked his own body.
Looking for bites or scratches.
Seeing that, Jaejeong did the same.
Confirming they were safe, both men's gazes turned to Beom-sik.
The now-quiet roadside echoed only with the bizarre wail from the girl straddling him.
"Even if we left them like that all day, that kid wouldn't die."
Youngman said it like he was watching a fire across the river, arms even crossed.
"Ha… what the hell's his deal?"
"That noise leaking out isn't doing us any favors. Finish it quick."
"Fucking show-off takes all the glory, then pulls this shit."
Shaking his head, Jaejeong charged forward in one bound and raised his hammer.
But for some reason, he couldn't bring it down, sweat pouring instead.
Through the gap in the girl's tube, the lettering embroidered on her swimsuit caught Jaejeong's eye.
The child's name, each character carefully stitched.
It didn't look like professional work.
Which meant her parents had probably done it.
Why did something like that have to stick in his eyes?
Or maybe it was inevitable.
Just last night, they'd faced things unimaginable.
Monsters or not, they still looked human.
Smashing their skulls wasn't easy.
And a child, no less.
Any normal person couldn't even try.
The countless ordinary dead were proof.
As Jaejeong squinted, steeling himself to swing several times,
a dull thud rang out, and the little infected went tumbling away with her tube after a kick to the legs.
As she tried to rise after rolling several times, Youngman's relentless strike ended her movement for good.
A flash of cold killing intent crossed Youngman's bitter expression as he turned.
It took that level of menace to do it.
But as always, survival demanded hard choices.
That had been Youngman's life, and every moment of it.
In the end, all this would etch into his mind like a curse.
Just like the countless lives he'd taken in the past.
There was no room to collapse or hesitate now.
Being alive—not dying—meant enduring all the pain.
Beom-sik slowly rose from the ground.
His pale face trembled faintly at the fingertips.
About to chew him out, Jaejeong shut his mouth at the uncharacteristic reaction.
Then he turned to retrieve the hammer still lodged in the giant's skull.
As expected, it didn't come free easily this time either.
Is it the angle of the strike?
More irritating than the act of killing was that he'd repeated the same mistake.
After much grunting, he yanked it free, black brain matter oozing out.
Jaejeong spun away and vomited wildly.
The fishy stench was unbearable.
"Urk! Uuueeek! Gotta switch weapons or something, ugh…."
He wiped the drool-mixed bile from his sleeve and muttered.
No sleep, no food—vomiting left him dizzy.
How long had he stood there?
A breeze blew in from somewhere.
Wind that would scorch under the blazing sun felt cool in the shade.
It brushed the sweat-soaked jaw and neck.
Snapping back to focus, Jaejeong took in the wreckage around him.
Six corpses strewn about.
Their first fight together against the infected since teaming up.
"Not bad for a first time…."
Youngman was right.
Not just not bad—it was combat prowess deserving applause.
If Beom-sik had pulled his weight properly, it would've been even smoother.
"Whining done? Let's move."
"You saying that 'cause I puked?"
Jaejeong bristled at Youngman's words.
"No, I took down the biggest threat—"
"Talking to both of you. One's puking, the other's shaking like a leaf. Scared? Hide behind me both. Geez… who even knows who's the old man here."
Maybe because Beom-sik had frozen so hard.
Youngman brushed off the gravity with a joke and started walking.
If Beom-sik was the gangster among gangsters Jaejeong had heard, even an infected kid should've been easy for him.
But showing that reaction means there's some backstory he can't talk about.
Youngman figured as much.
Everyone had secrets they wanted buried.
One of those things you learn living in the world.
Sometimes, it's better to let things slide than dig for truth.
But Jaejeong had no such intentions.
Curiosity was unbearable.
"Hey."
Beom-sik just stared back silently, eyes lifeless.
Jaejeong's eyes softened a bit from what was about to be harsh words.
"What's up?"
No answer. Jaejeong spoke again, irritation thick.
"Why you staring like rotten pollack eyes? Answer me."
"Yeah… sorry."
"…What?"
The sudden apology halted Jaejeong's steps.
Youngman clicked his tongue, his gaze rebuking Jaejeong.
"Tsk tsk tsk."
"Ah… not like that."
Maybe because they'd survived one battle.
Still tense, but all three were melting into the current mood of having overcome the crisis.
Trials in unfamiliar places felt greater, and the triumph sweeter.
Youngman watched Jaejeong bask in that feeling, memories flashing of young comrades high on surviving their first fights.
Probably the same.
Thinking of those who'd left first brought the bitterness of years to his tongue.
Soon after, the group hit a hillside path.
"City or not, stray a bit and you get quiet roads like this. Duck low amid these trees lining both sides, and no buildings in sight—nice."
"But who the hell builds an auto shop on a road like this? Looks like no one's coming."
Jaejeong grumbled, eyeing the steep incline ahead.
"People still come. Just my veterans' association members and families number in the hundreds."
"But…."
Beom-sik, who'd been walking with a dazed look, spoke cautiously.
Both Jaejeong and Youngman fell quiet, waiting.
"What if—what if the whole world's really like this, like you said, old man? What do we do then?"
A heavy silence settled over the three.
If the entire world was like this, it went beyond serious—humanity's survival itself would be at stake.
Not just who lives or dies, but extinction looming.
They all felt it more with time.
Something was wrong.
No police, no other survivors in sight.
The crisis was worse than imagined.
"…We survive."
Jaejeong said softly.
Quiet voice, but eyes sharp and clear.
"World's fucked or we're the last ones left, doesn't matter. If you're alive, you keep living till the end."
Infected