Stranded on the Stormy Han River
Shwaaa!
A lone raft bobbed perilously on the rain-lashed Han River.
Atop it sat two figures: a young girl and an adult man.
The girl, huddled in the center of the raft, scanned her surroundings with an anxious face before shivering violently as chills swept over her.
She had tried several times to wake the man, but to no avail.
The biting cold was bad enough, but the uncontrollable terror of drifting helplessly in the middle of the river crushed down on her.
Still, she couldn't give up just like that.
Trembling, the girl mustered her courage and crawled toward the man, who lay sprawled as if dead.
Poke, poke!
Her tiny finger jabbed at his face, but the man didn't so much as twitch.
Perhaps the relentless rain drumming on his features had numbed him already.
The girl didn't know what fainting or death looked like.
She just thought he was deep in sleep.
Poke, poke!
She poked his cheek again, harder this time. The man's eyelids finally fluttered.
Judging it effective, she grabbed his face, pounded his back, and shouted without pause.
"Uncle! Uncle!"
Maybe her voice was loud enough.
The man's fluttering eyes snapped wide open in an instant.
"Gah!"
Lee Beom-sik spat out the rainwater pooled in his mouth and let out a ragged groan.
Gasping for breath like someone whose airway had been blocked for ages, he suddenly jolted upright as something occurred to him.
His wide eyes darted around.
Thankfully, no zombies or armed soldiers in sight.
Aside from the river surrounding them on all sides, it seemed safe for now.
"Uncle?"
Gaon blinked her big eyes in front of him, wiping rain from her face.
Beom-sik could barely make sense of it.
Was he alive, or crossing the River Jordan?
He widened his gaze further.
The familiar skyline of Yeouido came into view—no underworld here.
Only then did Gaon's face come into proper focus.
Scratches marred her face and arms; she looked half like a beggar.
"Gaon! You okay?"
Beom-sik, snapping to like he'd been struck by lightning, grabbed her face.
His sudden, rough movement startled her, and Gaon swallowed dryly.
"Yeah. But you don't look okay, Uncle."
"Haa..."
Only after hearing her did Beom-sik exhale in relief.
He clutched his throbbing head, trying to recall events.
The last thing: the missile aimed at Yeouido intercepted, the shock sending him flying with Gaon clutched tight.
He must have kept moving after, but memories blurred.
Screams from people, frantic fleeing faces, folks leaping into the river aflame, two unfamiliar strangers flickering by.
Unheard voices echoed in his ears, then fog shrouded his mind.
Wincing from the headache, Beom-sik spotted blood trickling down his hand and touched his head again.
A wound from the gale-force winds, it seemed—serious, but not critically.
Bleeding wasn't worrisome either.
Aside from the relentless daze and dizziness like a concussion victim, no major issues.
But injuries weren't priority. Grasping the situation was.
He stared across the river at Yeouido.
Fires blazed everywhere, black ash settling; countless zombies wandered aimlessly.
What of his group?
His gaze shifted to the riverbank. Thankfully, the spot with the boat was empty.
He could only hope those aboard were his people.
With a short sigh, Beom-sik checked behind.
Less than half the Han's width remained—paddling hard, they could make it.
"Uncle, I'm cold."
Turning, he saw Gaon huddled and shivering.
Beom-sik quickly stripped off his shirt and draped it over her.
It was soaked too, but better than bare skin.
Situation assessed, he kicked off his shoes.
Gripping them like oars with gloved hands, he began paddling.
Not fast, but inching toward the bank.
He kept checking Gaon's state steadily.
She was pale from shock and drenching rain.
That spurred his arms faster.
Breath heaving to his throat repeatedly, his nonstop paddling soon brought the raft to shore.
A few meters from land.
Beom-sik, belly-crawling backward into the water, looked straight at Gaon.
"Stay put a sec. I'll be right back."
"Where?"
"Gonna check for monsters."
"You'll come back?"
"Yeah. Obviously."
"...Okay. Hurry."
Nodding, Beom-sik left shivering Gaon and cleaved through the current.
According to the group after the power plant trip, zombies swarmed from the riverbank.
No choice now—they needed shelter from the rain, no matter what.
Crouched low, he climbed the sloped embankment, eyes lifting to the road.
An eight-lane avenue littered with abandoned cars; zombies shuffled between.
Glancing back at the raft, Beom-sik swallowed dryly.
No detour in sight.
Even if there was, he couldn't leave Gaon long.
Plus, the cold had worsened; prolonged exposure risked both.
Use the downpour's roar—sneak across slowly, but cross they must.
He scanned for a weapon.
A few meters ahead, suitable pipes lay scattered by an overturned one-ton truck.
Crouching, he dragged one to the road's edge—for the climb up with Gaon.
Plan set, he hurried down to the raft.
Arms outstretched, Gaon toddled to the edge and into his embrace.
On land, Beom-sik squatted to meet her eyes.
"Gaon."
"Yeah?"
"Monsters gonna show up now. Can you stay quiet, no screaming?"
"...I'll try."
Her mature-for-a-kid reply drew a chuckle; he stroked her hair.
"It'll be fine. Trust your uncle?"
Gaon nodded, face uneasy.
She recalled being held by Beom-sik in Yeouido.
Monsters roaring everywhere, deafening gunfire, endless footsteps—she'd endured without a peep to keep their promise.
Yet eyes wide open, witnessing everything behind his back.
Closing them brought scary thoughts she couldn't shake.
Facing it again terrified her, but instinct told her she must endure.
Even a child grasped the new reality: safe zone wrecked, companions separated, monsters anywhere anytime.
To fight fear, Gaon clenched her fists.
She knew Beom-sik cared for her in everyone's stead.
Meaning: if he vanished, no adult left for her.
So she had to help—or at least not hinder.
As thoughts swirled.
Beom-sik, back to the slope, tied the shirt covering Gaon into a makeshift harness.
Sleeves knotted, the broad fabric supported her body and kept her secure against him.
Ready to rise, Gaon spotted blood on his face.
"Uncle, your head okay?"
"Yeah. Don't worry."
"It was scary earlier. You yelling with those guys, then suddenly passing out."
"Sorry. Won't happen again. Ready to go?"
Gaon nodded, burying her face in his chest.
Instantly, Beom-sik's gentle eyes hardened.
One split-second call could mean life or death.
Supporting the harness with one hand on her bottom, he climbed, grabbing the pipe.
Plan: move unseen by zombies.
At the truck, he peeked ahead.
Rain muffling sound, zombies neither scanned nor dashed wildly.
Small mercy.
To the taxi ahead, he ducked low.
A zombie eyeing the median turned suddenly.
It missed them, shuffling roadward slowly.
Still, safer to kill it before crossing the median.
Gripping the pipe, he checked opposite-lane zombies.
Strike when farthest—headshot to avoid alerting.
Rain dulled senses, but range unknown.
Moments later.
Opposite zombies headed to a huge apartment wall.
Beom-sik crept up, swung at the road-walker.
Crack!
Skull shattered, it crumpled to meat.
Quick check: opposites still wall-bound, oblivious.
Now the median—too high with Gaon.
Pipe in shirt, Beom-sik lay back, crawled under like a soldier under wire.
Rain flooded his mouth, but he held spits to stay silent.
Gaon held admirably—head down, quiet breaths.
Her warmth and breath against his chest.
Over, he rose, peeking past a crashed compact's rear wheel.
Few zombies to wall—not overwhelming solo.
But plan was evasion; find bypass.
Nearby bus blocked road—perfect detour length.
At its rear wheel, he watched zombies.
Almost there.
Apartment beyond wall swarming too, but pre-rain-end, safer than open road.
Gazing at endless sheets, then—
A black shape from the bus's shattered window.
Kraaa!
Zombie eyes met his; shock in Beom-sik's.
Thwack!
Pipe swung late—roar already echoing.
Then screams from wall zombies, splashing steps.
Fuck!
Eyes clenched, Beom-sik's lips shaped the unspoken curse.
Infected People