Broadcast Station Survivor
“Get lost! You hear me? Get the fuck out or I’ll stab you all to death!”
The woman’s frantic scream pierced through the door and echoed down the hallway.
Beom-sik kept glaring at her with a twisted scowl.
That’s why you don’t piss people off.
“Hey, come on out. You think anyone’s gonna like you staring like that? Ease up on the suspicion with a nicer face.”
Jaejeong shoved Beom-sik aside and peered inside.
“Aaack! Aaaah!”
The moment Jaejeong’s face appeared, the woman let out a shriek bordering on hysteria.
Caught off guard, Jaejeong smacked his lips and stepped back.
While Beom-sik shook his head, Minyoung approached and knocked on the door.
“Hello? We’re real live people. I’m a doctor, and the guy you just saw is a cop. Is there anything we can help you with?”
Minyoung’s gentle voice rang out into the corridor.
“L-live people? You mean actual humans? For real?”
“Yes, for real. Zombies don’t talk, right? Put the knife down first and calm down. That way, we can come in.”
Click!
The locked bolt turned, and the gray door swung open.
Inside, the woman who’d set the knife aside slumped against the wall, utterly spent.
“Are you okay?”
Minyoung rushed over and checked her condition.
It wasn’t good.
Sweating buckets, maybe?
She scanned the studio.
A toppled plastic water bottle.
Nothing else in sight.
Dehydration was setting in.
“Water! Quick, get her some water!”
At Minyoung’s urgent cry, the group spilled into the hall, hunting for a water cooler.
Jaejeong spotted one in the corridor and yanked out the tank in a hurry, hauling it back.
Minyoung poured a bit into a cup and fed it to her slowly.
After a few sips, life returned to the woman’s glazed eyes.
She couldn’t stand yet, but she could sit propped against the wall.
“Feeling a bit better?”
“Yeah... thank you. Thank you so much.”
“Any longer and it would’ve been really dangerous. You’ve been alone this whole time?”
“Yes. I’ve been scraping by on the bottled water from the gas station. Figured if I held out long enough, someone would come rescue me.”
“No other survivors?”
“No idea. Seems like I’m the only one on the eighth floor. Even when the infection first started, there weren’t many people around the studios. I came alone to review the script for the next broadcast.”
She introduced herself as Choi PD.
“So why’d you all come to the broadcasting station?”
“Ah, well...”
Minyoung glanced at Jaejeong.
Explain it for me.
“Rescue’s coming. Assuming comms get through, that is.”
“Rescue? They’re coming for us? Who?”
Choi PD’s face flushed with excitement.
After days alone, crushed by the terror of death, the word “rescue” hit her like a lifeline. She reacted intensely.
Anyone would’ve.
Jaejeong asked, “How much do you know about the situation?”
“Nothing. Not a thing. I just saw the whole of Seoul falling apart from the window. Why? What’s it like? Other regions are fine, right? That’s why rescue’s coming. Right?”
Jaejeong paused.
He didn’t know how to break it.
No answer to match her hopes, and her overexcited state made it hard to speak.
Then Youngman stepped in.
“Truth be told, we don’t know much ourselves. You’ve seen the outside with your own eyes, so you know it’s the same everywhere. Calm yourself first, lass.”
“Ha... sorry. I didn’t mean to. It’s just been so long since I’ve seen another person.”
“No harm done. That aside, any gear here for sending and receiving? We need to contact rescue.”
“Ah, yes. This way.”
Regaining her composure, Choi PD led them deeper into the studio.
She chewed biscuits Minyoung had given her, powering up the equipment.
“Frequency?”
“I’ll set it. It’s classified, after all.”
Youngman fiddled briefly, and the static cleared.
He scanned for the mic button.
Choi PD pointed it out quick.
“Captain Kang here. You read me?”
As seconds ticked by, anxiety crept over Youngman’s face at the mic.
If no contact here, things got uglier.
Back in the city heart, no rescue? No options left.
His eyes met Jaejeong’s, trembling with unease.
Then—
Crackle—
Yes, sir. Sorry for the delay. Kang Jin-hyeok here.
“Ha! You’re alive, lad.”
Too young to die yet, sir.
Youngman’s face lit up.
“Haha! That’s the spirit. We’ve reached the broadcasting station at your coordinates.”
My god! You actually made it there? Incredible, sir. I’ll check on rescue dispatch right away and get back to you. Stand by.
“Take your time.”
Too soon to celebrate.
Everyone ate water and bread with tense faces.
The captain said he’d confirm dispatch.
Meaning it might not happen.
But they were here now.
No backing out.
The reply came faster than expected.
Kang Jin-hyeok. Rescue team departs in five. They’ll take the fastest route, no regard for airspace.
“For real? Thanks, lad. Gotta kiss ’em when they get here.”
My juniors will go with the Black Hawk instead. How many are you?
“Black Hawk’s plenty. Seven of us.”
Roger. See you at base.
“Right. Overseas situation? No real news yet?”
...Yes. And it won’t change anytime soon.
“Not good. But isn’t this all classified info you’re spilling?”
As I said, no one’s even watching me. In this mess, it’s not critical, and sharing beats hiding. Plus, I trust you enough, sir.
“Glad you think so. So no rescue from overseas? Ever?”
Can’t promise anything now. But the ROK government’s hanging on, however feebly, and there’s no national safe zone yet, right? Good news could come anytime—if you’re with us or in a safe zone.
“If we join you, when to the safe zone?”
Soon, down the river to Yeouido. Government’s eyeing an evac op via our warships if an overseas door opens—for top brass at least. Survivors next, in phases. Best case. Worst? Stuck on the peninsula forever.
“Hm. Figures. Got it. Mountains of questions, but we’ll talk in person.”
The transmission ended, and the group’s faces filled not with exhaustion, but hope and joy.
Awe at themselves and each other for surviving this insane trek.
Sure, waiting on international aid now, but incomparably safer than before.
And direct to Yeouido soon—no safe zone worries.
Minyoung couldn’t hold back tears.
The tension she’d clung to snapped, spilling days of fear.
Youngman held his daughter close, soothing her a long while.
Hyun-soo, nestled in the stranger Choi PD’s arms, beamed in dazed delight.
Nothing gladder in this hell.
Jaejeong, Beom-sik, and Anna just stood there, exchanging looks.
No dramatics, but same feelings.
How the hell did we make it?
Anna swallowed dryly.
Recalling the past days nearly brought tears.
She gazed out the window.
“Helicopter to the rooftop?”
“Probably.”
Beom-sik nodded.
“Probably my ass. Through the window? Nah, rooftop. Let’s go.”
Four stayed in the studio; Jaejeong, Beom-sik, and Anna headed up.
The building’s size meant endless stairs.
Breath shortening, but no stopping.
Could’ve walked, but all three too impatient—soon sprinting.
Tenth floor: rooftop door.
Locked.
Beom-sik and Anna eyed Jaejeong.
He nodded, swung the sledgehammer.
Crack!
Lock shattered; door flew open.
Vast rooftop sprawled before them.
Nothing like the hospital’s.
Sunset lit surrounding buildings bright.
Almost all blazed with light.
Outbreak at evening, probably.
Most towers dwarfed the station.
Glass facades revealed interiors.
No survivors anywhere.
Infected only.
Soon, no more views like this.
At least from outside.
Jaejeong left the two to rest on the roof and descended to eight.
Someone had to wait up top.
No one for the chopper? Problem.
Studio: all claimed spots, dozing.
Makes sense—exhausted.
But chopper soon; sleeping now?
Youngman stirred at the noise, sitting up.
“Rest some more.”
“Nah. Just put Minyoung to sleep; she was antsy.”
Youngman gulped water, shook his head.
Shaking off sleep.
They slipped into the hall to not wake others.
Stepped over infected corpses to the corridor’s end window.
Summer nearly gone; cool night breeze.
“Long day.”
Youngman peered out.
“Endless. Yeah.”
“Never gets normal.”
“What part?”
“This unease. Know rescue’s coming, still anxious. Heart won’t settle. Lifetime in war zones, still not used to it.”
“Big crisis past, but who knows what’s next. That the anxiety? Me too.”
Jaejeong nodded in agreement.
“You feel it too?”
“Course. World’s crumbling—how not to?”
“Won’t be easy ahead.”
“Probably. Might never leave Yeouido. Ever.”
“Might not even reach it.”
“Could be.”
Silence stretched after that.
Jaejeong driven by raw survival instinct, Youngman by duty to his daughter.
No time to ponder futures.
New crises always hit first.
Only now, past this hurdle, it hit.
What’s next. The world ahead. Trials to endure.
That’s why the safe zone.
They’d have plans, manpower, resources.
Outside it? Crumble from within.
From the core.
Infected People