Slow Ride on the Mugunghwa
The group hurried down to the platform and bolted toward the train depot.
Running along the empty tracks felt downright eerie to everyone.
They'd never had much reason to tread on them before.
Unfamiliar with the rails, they stumbled frequently on the uneven gravel.
And the stones crunched louder than footsteps on concrete.
Zombies that hadn't been visible while sprinting across the platform now popped up everywhere the moment they hit the tracks.
Stragglers from the horde.
They swarmed from all directions, as if freshly spawned out of nowhere.
"Handle 'em up close! No shooting!"
Han Jaejeong shouted back at the group trailing him, then charged ahead with his sledgehammer raised.
Three out of the seven were barreling straight for him; one tripped over the rails and face-planted.
The real issue was the other two, glued side by side in perfect formation.
That's when a brilliant idea flashed through Jaejeong's mind.
He'd been jogging slowly, but suddenly halted, twisting his body like a batter at the plate, gripping the sledgehammer with both hands pulled back.
Then, timing it perfectly as they closed in, he swung with all his might.
Splat!
One swing, but the crunch of shattering skulls echoed twice over—a home run powered by pure force.
Like newlyweds rushing into each other's arms, the pair smashed their heads together and crumpled amiably to the ground.
Behind them, the fallen one staggered back up, spewing foul black spittle as it charged.
Hraaagh! Raaagh! Wraaagh!
Jaejeong didn't like the look of it shrieking like a madman. He kicked off the ground and ran to meet it.
The two closed the gap in seconds.
Just before they collided, Jaejeong whipped a dagger from his belt and stabbed upward like an uppercut, straight into the throat under the jaw.
The blade tore through its gullet, shredded the mouth, and lodged in the brain. The zombie went limp, slumping like an octopus sliding off a hook—as if Jaejeong had grabbed it by the collar.
In the rear, Kang Youngman shook black blood from his machete, while Lee Hyun-soo yanked a dagger from a zombie's skull.
While the seven infected dropped, the ticket attendant standing among them wondered if it was all a dream.
He wasn't exactly relaxed, but their zombie-slaying moves were so routine, like everyday chores.
They'd said they came from the safe zone.
Yet their combat prowess suggested they'd been sparring with zombies non-stop back there.
While the attendant was still reeling, Jaejeong confirmed no more were coming and resumed the march.
The group was so accustomed to running by now it was second nature, but the gravel demanded extra stamina.
How long had they been at it?
As the train depot loomed closer, everyone panted heavily, breaths ragged.
Still, their faces looked better than up on the rooftop.
The thrill of surviving once more and reaching their goal wrapped around them all.
Not without sacrifices, of course.
But given the odds, it was a miracle so many were still kicking.
Even Anna, barely holding on after Second's death, had regained some color from the run's exertion.
"Which one?"
Jaejeong eyed the row of trains.
The ticket attendant pointed to the one at the far end.
"The Mugunghwa-ho."
"Isn't the Mugunghwa slow? Why that one...?"
Kang Youngman asked, puzzled.
"You're heading to the countryside, right? Can't take anything else."
"Ah, I see. Makes sense."
Following the attendant up the ladder, the group boarded one by one.
This wasn't your typical long passenger train.
For some reason, it was just two cars detached.
The first was the engine room; the second, a cozy passenger car with a tiny bathroom and a handful of seats.
Once the attendant waved that the engine room was clear, the group—having swept the passenger car—finally slumped into seats with relief.
Their clothes were soaked through, but it was nothing.
They'd endured worse.
Now it was time to mourn the dead and savor another brush with survival.
Even then, Jaejeong never fully let his guard down.
He cracked open the rear door to reveal a narrow outdoor platform, fenced at waist height—barely room for three.
Filling it alone, Jaejeong flicked his lighter toward the dark depot interior.
Click! Click!
It sputtered at first—waterlogged—but lit after a few tries.
Not full illumination, but enough to spot nearby infected.
There was zero other light.
How long did he scan?
Hiss! Hiss!
The wheels began to turn slowly.
Catching Jaejeong off-balance at the sudden start, he grabbed the railing on reflex.
Speed building gradually, they pulled away from the depot's gloom.
Jaejeong checked his rifle mag.
One full and half left.
No telling how far they'd go, but heading outskirts meant possibly hitting an army base.
Weapons were always better in abundance.
Bases had full facilities, sealed tight—ideal if survivors were inside.
Gazing at the receding depot, thoughts swirled in Jaejeong's head.
But then...
Kraaaagh!
Who knew when it started, but zombies were swarming the train's tail—making any sentiment a luxury.
The problem: the train was glacially slow.
Jaejeong vaguely recalled Mugunghwa-ho topping 60 mph easy.
Something wrong?
He glanced back through the door window into the engine room.
No time to run up front in this two-car rattletrap.
Whoosh!
Bursting through the door, Jaejeong entered the passenger car.
The group inside had spotted the chaos through windows and was in uproar.
"Uncle, head back and take out the close ones."
"Got it."
Handing rear guard to Youngman, Jaejeong pulled the rest from their seats.
Then smashed every window with his sledgehammer.
"Hyun-soo, Yeon-hui, and you. Rest rifles on the sills and shoot only the ones clinging on."
Assigning the passenger car to Lee Hyun-soo, Lee Yeon-hui, and the Squad Leader, Jaejeong rushed back to Youngman.
There, Youngman sat steady, breathing in rhythm with the rocking train, rifle ready.
Jaejeong hooked his ankle on the railing and shouldered his own.
The chasers multiplied.
Pull the trigger as they neared; ease off as they fell back. Repeat.
The tail-followers were trouble, but front and flank zombies were worse.
Those would shake off eventually with speed, but oncoming ones risked derailment or boarding.
"What the hell's wrong with this damn train? Why so slow?"
Youngman muttered, barely exhaling.
"On the side!"
No sooner had Jaejeong voiced the worry than a zombie burst from front brush, latching onto the railing.
Bang!
Its head exploded, body tumbling free.
More reached out after.
Bang! Bang!
Gunfire rang nonstop around the moving train; the passenger car fared no better.
"Fuck! You even driving? Why so goddamn slow?"
The Squad Leader spat curses, swapping his last mag while scanning.
Hyun-soo was exceeding expectations, but across from him, Yeon-hui was useless.
Every recoil smashed her cheek against the stock, drawing screams; the shots themselves startled her into shrugs.
"What a clusterfuck."
Reloading, the Squad Leader shook his head and thrust his barrel out the broken window.
Bang! Bang!
Biting down hard didn't help hits land.
On a speeding train, distances shifted constantly—even he struggled.
Worse, gunfire drew hordes from everywhere.
"Hey! Punch it! You even know how to drive?"
Squad Leader bellowed down the aisle.
Meanwhile, Yeon-hui—firing across—was at her wit's end.
Her face throbbed from stock slaps; beside her, the lunatic spewed unsolicited rants, curses, and yells.
She was losing it.
But then—miracle.
Right after his holler to floor it, the train visibly accelerated.
Yeon-hui glanced back at Anna, wondering if she imagined it.
Anna's icy reply dashed that.
"What're you staring at? Shoot!"
Her scowl screamed don't talk to me.
'Useless without arrows, bitch.'
Yeon-hui seethed. Here she was, firing a rifle for the first time ever, while Anna just spectated.
They'd clashed since the boat—no common ground.
Anna's death glares shut her up every time.
She itched to shove her rifle in Anna's face, but zombies first.
Yeon-hui leaned out the broken window—narrow view be damned.
Good news: no more chasers.
Flank zombies couldn't keep up now.
Safe-ish.
"Haa..."
Relief sighed from her as Jaejeong and Youngman returned from the rear.
"Everyone okay?"
Another crisis averted; eyes answered Jaejeong.
Exhausted beyond words, they leaned back, resting.
Youngman sank into a seat, uncoiling his tension.
"Rest up too, hyung."
Hyun-soo urged the still-standing Jaejeong.
"Gotta check the engine room. See why it started so slow."
"Take a breather first."
Hyun-soo imagined Jaejeong's fatigue from endless decisions, admiring his cool head.
That's why he wanted to help.
Just see Jaejeong relax a bit.
"I'll go. Always wanted to peek in an engine room as a kid. That okay?"
"...Yeah, sure. But why now?"
"C'mon, you need a break. What if you get sick? We'd all be screwed."
"Brat."
Grinning despite himself, Jaejeong slumped into a seat.
"Be back soon."
Nod.
Truth was, Jaejeong desperately needed rest.
Not just the frantic smashing and running—mental strain crushed him most.
People who'd died following his calls. Ones he'd shot himself.
The weight of their lives, the triggers pulled, the guilt of failing them.
Every death since leaving the hospital with Lee Beom-sik still pressed on his shoulders.
But he couldn't quit.
Beyond survival instinct, people now depended on him.
Thoughts raced.
Each dead face brought questions.
What if someone else decided?
Different outcome?
He shook his head.
No dwelling on hypotheticals.
Better analyze mistakes to avoid repeats.
Fatigue-clouded eyes drifted out the window.
Infected People