The Final Pull
As soon as the rope touched the railing, Jaejeong hauled Anna up onto the rooftop.
His left hand, gripping the rope, slipped once or twice in the process, but he gritted his teeth and held on.
Just as his strength was about to give out, Youngman lent a hand, helping him clamber onto the roof.
Anna lay there on the floor, pale as a ghost—already arrived ahead of them.
Her eyes were open, but she was on the verge of total exhaustion.
Youngman asked,
"What happened?"
Jaejeong wiped the sweat from his brow and explained the situation downstairs.
The group's faces darkened as they listened.
The floor right below them was crawling with those things.
"First things first, let's do something about her."
Jaejeong scooped up the prone Anna in his arms.
Her face was deathly pale.
Minyoung followed behind, adding,
"She's been standing in the blazing sun all day yesterday, and she hasn't eaten a thing. That's probably why."
Now that he thought about it, yeah.
Even when they'd first run into her, Anna had been standing on that scorching rooftop.
According to Minyoung, she'd been up there the whole day.
While the three of them slept on the sacks in the warehouse, Anna had stayed on the roof.
In short, she hadn't gotten a proper rest since the outbreak started.
With one dramatic crisis after another, it was no wonder her energy was drained.
And even though she hadn't lost much blood, the psychological toll must have been huge.
Once they laid Anna on the cot in the clinic, Minyoung started first aid with practiced efficiency.
Jaejeong watched for a moment, then wiped his sweat and stepped out into the hallway.
He'd barely made it through the door when Minyoung called out from the clinic.
"Hold on a sec."
"I'm heading up first to rest. She got herself into this by staying out alone, so give her the works—make it hurt. Stubborn kids like her..."
"Not that."
Minyoung chased after him, looking up at Jaejeong with sharp, no-nonsense eyes.
The vibe was completely different from before.
She scanned him up and down, almost intrusively.
"What?"
"Your hand."
"Huh?"
"Let me see it."
Jaejeong absentmindedly extended his left hand.
And got a shock.
Not only was his palm soaked in blood, but the skin was torn in places.
Only then did the pain hit him.
"Ah, fuck... what the hell? When did this happen?"
There had been a burning sensation, but he'd never imagined it was this bad.
Jaejeong racked his brain.
Probably when he was pulling Anna up to the roof at the end—his palm must have gotten rope-burned.
Nothing else came to mind.
"Come with me."
Jaejeong, who had been heading for the roof, had no choice but to follow Minyoung back into the clinic.
Anna lay on the cot, eyes peacefully closed—either asleep or just resting.
"She gonna be okay?"
Jaejeong asked, eyeing the IV drip in her arm.
"Yeah, she's sleeping. It's basically overexertion."
"Eup!"
As the gauze, soaked in disinfectant, touched his skin, Jaejeong grimaced like a wild animal.
But Minyoung didn't let go of his hand.
"Bear it. You held onto that rope with one hand—can't handle this?"
Fresh gauze approached.
Jaejeong turned his head away entirely.
A clean break would be better than this stinging hell.
It felt like pouring oil on his palm and lighting it up.
"But... you're really something."
Jaejeong, face twisted in pain, whipped his head back around.
"Pardon?"
"I said you're impressive."
"What for?"
He stared at her blankly, clueless.
As Minyoung peeled away a fragment of rope stuck to the wound, she replied,
"When I looked down, I couldn't believe my eyes. Even for someone as strong as you, hanging your own body weight is tough enough—seeing you dangle there with a person slung over one arm? Shocked the hell out of me."
"Well, that... ahem."
Jaejeong, never one for compliments, cleared his throat awkwardly.
Praise out of nowhere.
But thinking about it, maybe it was a big deal.
He'd saved someone on the brink of death.
If Youngman hadn't shown up in time, they'd both be goners.
Recalling it now made his head spin.
He couldn't even remember thinking it was reckless.
Just that he had to survive.
Anna had to live, and so did he.
"You looked... different."
"Different how at first?"
Jaejeong's eyebrow shot up.
"No real thoughts. Just, damn, he's huge. Kinda scary when you were arguing with those people. But today? Turns out you've got a real strong sense of sacrifice."
"Ah, okay."
The back-to-back praise suddenly made him uncomfortable.
Minyoung rattled it off so casually—it was weird, and he had no clue how to respond.
He was the type who squirmed even at a shoulder pat after cracking a case.
But Minyoung kept going.
"I'd have given up. Or scrambled up myself first."
"You're a doctor, Minyoung. A doctor doing that... well, no reason you couldn't. Doctors are human too."
Jaejeong scratched his forehead, embarrassed.
Minyoung gave a slight smile at the sight.
Not knowing how to react, Jaejeong just grinned awkwardly, eyes wide open.
"Thanks for helping Dad. And for getting us here."
With the treatment done, she still gripped his hand tight.
The moment Jaejeong felt it and tried to pull away with an awkward smile—
"Ahem!"
Anna, who they'd thought was asleep, suddenly fake-coughed and rolled over to the other side.
At the same time, Youngman flung the door open.
"How's it going?"
Thanks to that, Jaejeong managed to slip his hand free.
"Oh god, I was holding your hand the whole time..."
Only then did Minyoung realize and laugh sheepishly.
The two shot to their feet, facing Youngman.
Nothing had happened, but the atmosphere was weird.
Youngman, oblivious, only eyed the turned-over Anna.
"She asleep?"
"Yes, Dad. She needs the rest."
"Good. I see you've got bandages too. I came down after spotting the blood on the rope. Minyoung's got good hands, doesn't she?"
Youngman asked with a proud face.
"Whew, yeah. She patched me up so well, my hand's still throbbing."
Jaejeong grimaced through an awkward smile, the vibe still off.
"Guess I'll go rest. My arms are still aching."
"Indeed."
As he stepped out, everyone's eyes turned to Jaejeong.
But it was fleeting; he paid it no mind.
He wasn't curious anymore.
He didn't want to dwell on why they'd driven someone to death or hounded the group.
Of course, that didn't mean they deserved to die.
If push came to shove and they needed to team up, fine—but he wasn't volunteering for anything.
'Did the talk go well, though?'
Only now did he remember the others had gone to persuade the people while he and Anna searched the second floor.
'Beom-sik'll know.'
With that thought, he headed for the roof.
Every unfamiliar texture on his hand reminded him of the bandages.
He suddenly chuckled.
Maybe because of that clinic chat.
It struck him as ridiculous that people saw him as a good guy.
In a world where hundreds of thousands—maybe millions—might be dead, what did that even matter?
'Still, can't just save my own skin.'
As Jaejeong climbed the stairs, murmuring to himself—
Bang!
The rooftop door flew open, sunlight piercing through the cloudy sky.
He scowled and turned, hearing Beom-sik's voice.
"Oh? You're back."
"Where you headed?"
Beom-sik hesitated, hand on the door.
"I'm asking where—why the long face?"
Jaejeong grinned awkwardly and stepped onto the roof.
"You okay? Her too, from earlier."
"Yeah, I'm good. Anna seems fine too."
He recalled her fake cough and roll-over.
Pretending to sleep while eavesdropping.
Didn't really matter if she heard.
Nothing weird was said.
'Why pretend, though?'
"...Weirdo."
Jaejeong muttered to himself as he walked toward the transceiver.
Under the tent, the folding chair Youngman had sat in fluttered in the wind.
As Jaejeong approached it, he glanced back and asked,
"Any new word?"
"Nah, those things are still the same."
Beom-sik pointed to the infected swarming the hospital grounds.
"We brought firecrackers, right? Can't we pop 'em in the underground parking lot?"
"Was gonna when Anna got here, but they'll swarm anyway when they hear the chopper. Pointless. Better save 'em for when we really need 'em."
"Fair point."
Helicopters didn't care if the ground was crawling—they'd land on the roof anyway.
No need to waste resources.
Especially since firecrackers could be a lifesaver in a pinch.
Jaejeong asked,
"You hungry?"
"Starving to death."
Beom-sik laughed resignedly, and Jaejeong rubbed his belly, shaking his head.
Jaejeong was ravenous.
So hungry his stomach burned.
His gut was screaming for real food.
Felt like years since hot steam rose from a meal.
When it had only been two days.
"You talk to the folks downstairs?"
"Yeah, they were thrilled about rescue coming. But coughing up their stuff? Faces soured. I'd be the same with strangers."
Beom-sik recalled earlier.
"So what'd you settle on?"
"Pooled it all in that warehouse we crashed in last night—everything but personal items. But aside from water and drinks? Jack shit. Vending machines spit that out easy. No way they ran here hauling food."
"Fucked."
Jaejeong sighed roughly.
Made sense, theoretically.
Who fleeing for their life carries groceries?
They weren't soldiers with combat rations.
Still, he'd held out hope.
Disappointing.
Time to figure something out.
Rescue was en route, sure—but no exact time, and with this weather, it might not happen.
"Now what?"
Beom-sik squinted into the fierce wind.
The sky hung heavy, threatening rain but holding back.
Jaejeong stared out from the roof into the wind instead of answering.
It was a wasteland.
Nothing intact anywhere.
No building without shattered windows, no neighborhood without flames.
At least the two knew why the fires.
Those damn infected messing with transformers or smashing pipes on the way down.
Plenty other causes too, probably.
The real silver lining: power still on downtown.
Meant fresh ingredients or food anywhere—if they could escape this hospital.
Then, something flashed through Jaejeong's mind.
Infected People