142 - Defiant to the End
Lee Beom-sik opened his eyes half a day later.
A heavy pain throbbed at the back of his skull as he slowly came to, his vision filled only with the rough cement floor beneath him.
He tried to move, to shake off the fog in his mind, but his body wouldn't budge.
His arms and legs were bound tight.
"Ngh!"
He strained against the unknown bindings on his limbs, putting all his strength into it.
Wriggle! Wriggle!
But he only rolled across the floor like a cocoon, changing direction without gaining any ground.
"Haa…"
Every reckless twist sent an indescribable agony stabbing into his head.
It had started with diving to shield Gaon from that charging truck in the safe zone, then getting hurled by the missile's shockwave. Now this—a pipe to the head.
Three times to the skull.
At this point, the real miracle was that he was still alive.
Once the pain dulled enough to bear, Beom-sik rolled around, scanning his surroundings.
He'd been out long enough for dawn to break outside.
Dim light filtered into the murky room, illuminating it faintly like a dying bulb.
Realizing how much time had passed, Gaon's face flashed in his mind.
He rolled diligently until he reached the door, nudging it with his toes to open it—
Voices drifted in from the hallway.
"What're we gonna do with the kid?"
"Dunno. Boss has gotta have a plan. She's not crying, at least. Was thinking of tossing her out if she got noisy."
"Why toss the kid? We raise her."
"Raise her? You nuts?"
"Think long-term, man. World where even women are scarce—grow her up right. Kids grow fast. Get it?"
"Damn, you're one twisted fuck… How you so smart?"
"Right? Heh heh!"
Listening to their sleazy banter, Beom-sik felt his blood boil in reverse.
A deep rage writhed inside him, the kind that chewing on their flesh all day wouldn't sate.
Even in this fucked-up world, had they lost every shred of basic humanity?
Their conversation dragged on.
"What you think Boss'll do with that prick?"
"Start by chopping fingers off one by one?"
"Damn right. If Boss won't, I will. Gonna hack that bastard's limbs and feed 'em to the zombies."
"Nah, just neuter him alive. Who needs zombies? Gimme a smoke."
Meanwhile, the rising sun flooded the room with light.
Beom-sik glanced down.
His legs bound with rope—his wrists behind his back were likely the same.
If he didn't find a way out soon, he was dead meat.
From their talk, at least Gaon seemed safe for now.
That's when it happened.
Another voice joined the two men in the hall.
"He in there?"
"Yeah, Boss. He's inside."
Beom-sik quickly rolled back to his spot as the new voice—sounding like it was about to barge in—neared.
Whether from the frantic rolling or his injuries, a thick dizziness surged from his skull.
He swallowed down the bile rising in his throat, saliva pooling in his mouth—
Slide!
The door opened, and a hulking figure stepped in, sunlight pouring over him from the window.
It was the fat bastard who'd approached with a baseball bat last night, only to eat a jaw shot from Beom-sik and pass out.
Several roof tiles pinned to his shoulder marked him higher in the pecking order than the other two.
With each step, his sagging jowls, chest, and gut jiggled like they were dancing.
In this apocalypse where food was scarce, months of starvation should've slimmed anyone down. But this pig maintained his massive bulk somehow.
The brute squatted right in front of Beom-sik, who lay there like a maggot.
"Boss said not to touch you till he starts, but I can't wait. Think of it as… warm-up before the main event. Gotta get your head right."
The hulk reared up and slammed a brutal kick into Beom-sik's side.
Thud!
The heavy blow should've ripped a scream from him, but Beom-sik didn't even groan.
He just glared up with bloodshot eyes.
"Tough guy, huh? Good. Makes it last longer for me. That one was payback for my side—you kicked it three years back. Where next?"
The brute leered, eyes crawling over Beom-sik's body.
Then his face hardened, foot raised.
Thud! Thud!
Two more kicks, and a raw grunt escaped Beom-sik's gritted teeth.
The massive foot had crushed his groin mercilessly.
"Remember? Your fault my little bro nearly got castrated. Fucker aimed right there."
Finished speaking, the brute drew something sharp from his side.
A long sashimi knife gleamed in the sunlight.
"Hurts?"
Saliva dripped from Beom-sik's lips as he endured.
"Even Gangnam's Lee Beom-sik meets his end eventually. Should've thought ahead before strutting around, you dog."
Stab!
The cold knife tip pierced his thigh.
The brute twisted it teasingly, barely embedded.
As unbearable pain tore groans from Beom-sik, the pig's face lit with ecstasy, digging deeper into living flesh.
"Don't worry. Cleaned and disinfected it. Won't turn you zombie. Gotta make it last. Oh, but I wanna hear something."
Even whimpering like a beaten pup, Beom-sik locked eyes with the brute.
If he got free, he'd carve this fucker alive—his gaze promised it.
But to the brute, it was just more fuel for his thrill.
He savored Beom-sik's suffering that much.
"Say 'I was wrong.' Do it."
He pressed the bloody knife to Beom-sik's eyeball, threatening.
"Say it, fucker! 'I was wrong, spare me.' Say it! Now!"
His voice rose to kicks pounding Beom-sik's gut.
"Say it! Hurry!"
Then he squatted again, peering down expectantly.
Figured he'd break now.
Wrong.
A low murmur escaped Beom-sik.
"…Fuck off. You pig-dog bastard."
Sheer, venomous grit.
How many could defy after flesh carved and vitals pummeled?
"Ha!"
The brute barked a hollow laugh, face twisting savagely.
He flung the knife aside, yanked off his watch, rolled up his sleeve.
Grabbed Beom-sik's hair, slammed his back against the wall.
"Even if Boss kills me for it, I ain't letting you off easy. Bite down—your jaw's gonna pop."
Clutching the hair, he swung his meaty palm, slapping Beom-sik's face without mercy.
Smack! Crack!
The blows kept coming, not stopping at a couple.
"Crazy fuck! Still! Don't get it? Huh? Who the fuck! Are you! So goddamn! Special! You dogshit!"
Mad with rage, he punctuated each phrase with a slap, the brutality raging on even after words failed.
How many hits?
Beom-sik's body went limp as a slab of meat, jaw shattered into unconsciousness.
"Worthless piece of shit…"
Only then did the brute shake out his hand, somewhat sated, and stand.
* * *
Beom-sik came to much later.
One side of his face burned like a burn victim; his eye wouldn't open properly.
No mirror needed—he could picture the mess.
Swollen purple eyes and face had wrecked his once-gentlemanly looks.
"Cough! Cough!"
As he caught his breath amid pained hacks—
A cold, wet chill seeped from his thigh down.
The metallic tang of blood hit his nose; glancing down, blood dripped from soaked pants.
Dizziness crippling him stemmed from blood loss.
His limbs throbbed like they'd been run over; fever boiled at his brow.
Beom-sik rolled onto his back, slick with cold sweat.
He hated the pessimism, but instinct screamed death was closing in.
No way out from here.
Even if there was, in this state, he'd die getting beaten before laying a hand on them.
Lying numb, a full moon gleamed through the window.
He'd blacked out a full day.
Unlike the imminent slaughter vibe before, he was still kicking.
Gazing at the luminous moon, memories flickered like smoke.
His crew's faces rose with them.
Were his brothers alive?
Memories followed of them bowing deeply.
Post-outbreak, all Beom-sik had left was his crew, his brothers, and Gaon.
Friends, family, comrades—all one.
He missed them.
Peering into his weakening core, Beom-sik wondered if this was truly the end.
"Ugh!"
Turning brought a pained groan.
Something loose rolled in his swollen mouth.
Ptooey!
A clump of blood and a thick molar hit the floor.
A back tooth.
Seeing it snapped him awake like a lie.
That untouchable lowlife beneath him.
Insulted and humiliated by such scum—weakness fled, replaced by burning vengeance in his eyes.
Then—
Urgent voices in the hall.
"Hey! Gag the kid!"
"She'll wake up if we do, Boss."
"What the hell set her off crying?!"
Beyond their shouts, a familiar sound pierced.
Gaon's sobs.
Each grief-stricken wail synced with his heartbeat, sinking his chest.
He thrashed with all his might to break free.
Blood slicked his wrists, ankles tore raw—but the ropes held.
Bloodshot eyes bulging, bloody mouth ground teeth despite the gap.
Hurried footsteps pounded down the hall to his room.
Slide!
Door opened.
Crash!
Gaon, shoved like luggage by adult hands, toppled a chair.
The bastards handled a child like trash.
"Fuck, ain't even a zombie but bites like one? Cry once more, brat—I’ll chuck you outside."
The man slammed the door after his warning; Gaon rose from the floor.
No visible injuries—thank god.
Moonlight bathed her turning face; tear-glossed eyes miraculously calmed.
Locking eyes with her, Beom-sik's face lit up.
All prior agony felt fake; pure joy shone through.
"You okay?"
Nod nod!
She nodded vigorously, glanced at the windowed hall, then rushed over, hugging him tight.
Infected People