Horde on the Horizon
The military truck had been modified so people could ride in the cargo bed.
Long benches ran along both sides, just like in the movies where soldiers sit in neat rows.
The downside was the open top—no roof, so they had to take the full brunt of the sun.
Youngman took the wheel.
Minyoung sat in the passenger seat, while everyone else piled into the back.
Youngman's driving was top-notch.
His self-deprecating talk of "old memories" didn't do it justice—he handled the truck with silky smoothness.
At this rate, Yeouido wouldn't take long.
Of course, the road ahead was bound to be littered with obstacles.
But obstacles didn't matter much.
All they could hope for was that the infected wouldn't come swarming in massive hordes.
A few stragglers? Just plow right through them.
But if a whole pack charged at once, the truck would grind to a halt or flip over.
The one real worry was how much louder this beast was than a civilian car.
And unlike usual, the surroundings were eerily quiet.
In that silence, even small noises could carry far.
In the end, all they could do was pray for luck.
Everyone checked their rifle magazines and flicked off the safeties—except Beom-sik, who just sat there.
Chaemin and Hyun-soo dusted off their active-duty memories as they inspected their weapons, but Jaejeong handled his with the ease of a pro.
Jaejeong glanced at Beom-sik.
Come to think of it, he'd never heard whether the guy had served.
An old case file flashed in his mind.
Lee Beom-sik had done time in juvie before he was even an adult.
No way he'd enlisted.
Jaejeong nudged Beom-sik's foot with his own.
Then he demonstrated how to reattach the magazine, letting his hands do the talking.
Beom-sik caught on quick—maybe sensing it was the best kind of consideration.
Not that being a draft dodger was anything to be ashamed of, but after all that big talk in front of Minyoung, sitting there like a rookie must've stung.
Jaejeong showed him how to switch to semi-auto for shooting and back to safe otherwise.
Finally, he racked the bolt to chamber a round.
Basic stuff, but for first-timers, the world of guns was alien territory.
Fortunately, Beom-sik picked up on the metallic clacks signaling readiness.
He adapted fast—sharper than average, clearly.
Spare ammo and grenades lay on the floor.
Only someone who'd been through the boom knew just how much vibration and noise one grenade packed.
Jaejeong prayed they'd never need them.
One blast, and every infected within hundreds of meters would come running.
Bottom line: forget using them to hunt.
That's when Anna piped up.
"What the hell? Cops use rifles like this? You handle it like a pro."
"How'd you know I'm a cop?"
"Huh? You told me, bro. And that guy's a gangster."
Beom-sik snorted at "gangster."
"Old man say that?"
"You look like a model, but those eyes... wild."
"Spit it out."
Beom-sik's tone sharpened.
"Wasn't peeking on purpose. Just passing the bathroom, saw it wrapped around you. Normals don't ink up like that."
"And?"
"What 'and'? Not picking a fight. Just saying."
Silence crashed back in.
The exchange had soured the vibe worse than before.
Chaemin and Hyun-soo just eyed the two, while Beom-sik stared out, pointedly avoiding faces.
The wind from the moving truck offered some relief, but the pounding sun made them feel like they were melting.
They could've used a damn tarp.
The sun blazed mercilessly, lighting up the whole world.
Which meant they got an eyeful of the desolate streets they'd missed for so long.
No sign of the living.
Not a single window cracked open despite the truck's roar.
Maybe folks were too scared to even peek.
With all the fake news flying around.
Some probably still thought the virus spread through breathing.
Or tap water.
They passed a few blocks like that.
Then the infected started showing up on the roads.
"Hang on tight from here!"
Youngman's tense voice carried from the window.
Everyone gripped the bed with grim faces.
That's when it hit.
KRAAAGH!
A roar echoed from the sky.
An infected on the rooftop next door had leaped right at them.
It bounced off the side rails and flew off.
That kicked it off—floods of them poured from every street, alley, and shop the truck passed.
Youngman caught it in the side mirror; the back-seaters had front-row seats to hell.
Anna yanked her bowstring a few times, then gave up.
The horde was just out of reach—teasingly close.
The rest were locked and loaded.
Jaejeong bellowed,
"Only shoot if they touch the truck! They'll all come anyway from the engine. Don't sweat the gunfire. Anna, conserve arrows!"
Youngman floored it.
"Speed bumps!"
Minyoung's scream from the right window was near-hysterical.
The five in back clung for dear life.
THUD!
It felt like a roller coaster drop.
Grenades and mags flew out the back.
They scrambled to stuff the rest into pockets.
Hyun-soo's guts churned.
Like watching a movie, but the infected tailing them kept multiplying.
Except this was real—no CGI.
Endless waves filled the ten-lane road, asphalt vanishing under the tide.
Majestic, almost.
The sheer scale crushed Hyun-soo; his stomach rebelled.
Just sitting there, but he was gasping like he'd sprinted.
"Hang on!"
Another shout.
This time, dodging parked cars—truck swaying left and right.
Like a carnival tambourine ride, bodies bouncing.
Still holding, though.
The problem: slowing down brought the horde too close.
Close enough to see rotting flesh and sunken bones.
Luckily, the infected were sprinting so wild they toppled trying to reach out.
Once down, they vanished under countless feet.
"Won't cut it."
Jaejeong grabbed a grenade, face tight, and yanked the pin.
"Hang on tight."
Whoosh!
It rolled under the lead pack's feet.
One, two, three.
BOOM!
Infected launched like a waterfall.
Grenades kept rolling, one after another.
At first, barely a dent—but chain blasts tore gaps like a mangled cake.
Then—
"Eyes front!"
Jaejeong, standing to toss, whipped around at Youngman's yell.
A massive concrete barrier blocked the Yeouido ramp.
Last road from Gangnam.
No choice.
Turn or die.
Running was suicide.
"Hang on!"
Jaejeong dropped into his seat, yelling.
The truck whipped into a brutal curve—one wheel lifting.
Chaemin, Hyun-soo, and Anna screamed.
Glancing back: infected that couldn't turn in time kicked up dust storms plunging riverward.
Tens of thousands, easy.
How far had they gone?
Horde still chased, numbers unchanged.
Passing the last Yeouido road, the vast Han River sprawled out.
Cross Yanghwa Bridge to Gangbuk?
What if those were blocked too?
Worst-case scenarios flooded in.
Then—
"Road's blocked! We run from here!"
Everyone looked ahead at Youngman's call.
Cranes and trucks toppled in a line. Impassable even on foot.
Worst case.
Truck halted; they bailed, slinging rifles over shoulders and necks, sprinting.
National Assembly building loomed across the way.
Yeouido so close!
Jaejeong's eyes bloodshot.
Too smooth, he'd thought.
How long did they run? Glancing back, infected closing the gap.
"Look there! No crossing that!"
Beom-sik, downhill sprinting, pointed.
River midpoint: collapsed road.
Not just that—every Yeouido access from Olympic Boulevard was wrecked.
Bad feeling.
Youngman and Jaejeong thought the same:
Blown up!
Soot marks everywhere.
No way they'd only blow this one if people weren't idiots.
All paths to Yeouido severed.
"Fucking bastards! No wonder helos couldn't land!"
Youngman cursed.
Logically, with bridges down, chopper-following infected would've drowned anyway.
But approval denied.
What the hell was the holdup?
As doubts swirled, infected surged from ahead.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Full shootout.
Whoever spotted one stopped, aimed for the head.
Youngman and Jaejeong nailed every shot.
Chaemin and Hyun-soo took time dialing in accuracy.
Beom-sik botched shouldering, rifle butt smacking his eye repeatedly.
Finally ditched it, slung the gun, and just ran.
But they couldn't keep running.
Minyoung collapsing repeatedly; even Jaejeong hitting limits.
Then: half-built concrete skeleton, wide open.
Perfect.
Easy to watch flanks, count roamers before climbing.
"Construction site—go!"
Following Jaejeong, they squeezed out last reserves.
Site clear of infected. Lucky.
"Agh!"
Disaster.
Jaejeong, turning, face darkened.
Chaemin tripped on a fallen brick.
Minyoung, gasping, checked him.
"Bone's broken!"
Ankle twisted sideways—brutal.
KRAAAGH!
Hundreds closing from tens of meters back—endless.
Up the stairs.
High enough they couldn't climb over each other.
Jaejeong and Hyun-soo hoisted Chaemin, practically carrying him up.
Too slow.
Youngman, Beom-sik, Anna had to buy time.
Site entrance: narrow, steep choke.
Small barricades slowed them effectively.
But throwing bricks had limits.
Breakers got bullets or arrows.
Ammo finite.
Youngman glanced back.
Carriers just hitting stairs.
He squeezed eyes shut.
Choice time.
Ditch Chaemin.
Unless someone else bought time—with their life.
Anna dashed off, dragged back a yellow "Safety First" barrier fence.
"Try this. Fits the entrance perfect."
Gray concrete stairs' width matched exactly.
But it stuck.
Three shoved with all they had.
No other options.
"Raaagh!"
Beom-sik's roar-like grunt sealed it—perfect block.
Now the real test.
Barricade wouldn't hold forever—buy max time.
Beom-sik shoved their backs.
"Go up first!"
"What about you?"
Anna's eyes shook.
"One mag. I'll burn it holding them. Climb high as you can. Old man! Take him and go!"
"Got it—trusting you."
Youngman, resolute, yanked Anna along.