Trapped Amid the Horde
Lee Beom-sik arrived on the opposite side of the road and yanked the shoulder of Lee Hyun-soo, who stood frozen stiff like a totem pole.
A deafening roar that could rupture eardrums echoed right nearby, but there was no time to turn and look.
"Snap out of it!"
Behind Hyun-soo loomed a cargo truck crashed into a utility pole, its door flung wide open.
Beom-sik shoved Hyun-soo into the passenger seat and vaulted over the gearshift into the driver's side.
At the same time, he slammed down the lock button on the driver's window.
Click!
"Duck!"
BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM! CRASH! BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM!
Settling into the driver's seat, Beom-sik grabbed Hyun-soo's hair and forced him to hunker down.
The truck shuddered violently from all sides, as if a massive earthquake had struck.
The noise was so overwhelming that tinnitus set in.
His head slammed into the steering wheel repeatedly.
Beom-sik cautiously lifted his head.
Through the truck's window, an endless black wave surged past.
It felt like sitting in the midst of a thundering herd of giant rhinoceroses.
If the truck flipped or a window shattered, who knew what horror would unfold.
Fortune in misfortune, perhaps.
The infected packed the area so densely as they moved that the truck—pinned against the pole—had no room to tip or roll.
It just rocked insanely.
"Aaaargh! Aaaaaargh!"
Unable to endure the vibrations and din, Hyun-soo screamed like a madman.
Even that got swallowed up.
Only Beom-sik, sharing the cab, could barely hear it.
How much time passed like that?
Just when he'd thought a dozen times that it must be over by now.
Outside fell eerily quiet, like after a typhoon's passage.
"Ugh... ugh..."
Inside the truck, only Hyun-soo's trembling whimpers broke the silence now and then.
Regaining his wits and peering out the window, Beom-sik hurriedly clamped a hand over Hyun-soo's mouth.
"Mmph! Mmph!"
"Calm down, you idiot. Look outside."
Only then did Hyun-soo open his eyes and gaze out the window.
The brightly lit boulevard, illuminated like midday by the building's floodlights, teemed with at least a hundred infected milling about.
Stragglers from the horde.
They had completely claimed the empty road.
And the rest of the group?
He glanced across the street.
The silhouette of people was visible in the brightly lit gas station office.
"Phew..."
Beom-sik finally exhaled in relief.
They're alive.
He'd half-doubted, but it was Han Jaejeong, as expected.
A chuckle escaped at the needless worry.
"Thank you."
Glancing aside, he saw Hyun-soo with his head bowed like a criminal.
Whatever retort Beom-sik had in mind fizzled; he was too drained for annoyance.
Leaning back against the headrest, he muttered blankly.
"You're alive. That's what matters, you idiot."
"Yeah..."
Beom-sik eyed Hyun-soo with just a flick of his gaze, then squeezed his eyes shut in irritation.
He ruffled Hyun-soo's sweat-matted hair with his palm.
"Lift your damn head, man. You trying to grovel?"
"You're already sick of me, and now I've just caused more trouble."
"Ha, kid. Sharp instincts. That obvious?"
"Yeah. Very."
Beom-sik stifled a laugh at the response.
Then, too exhausted for more, he closed his eyes and slumped.
"So what now? Can't exactly go anywhere with that mob outside."
"Yeah. No way to contact the others either. We're stuck good."
Silence enveloped the cab for a while.
No escape plan in sight, and nothing feasible right now anyway.
They needed time to regroup their strength.
At least the bags they carried still held water and food—small mercy.
Only the crunch of biscuits and gulps of water punctuated the quiet.
Time dragged on.
The infected roaming the road seemed even more numerous now, whether imagination or not.
Where were they keep coming from?
Beom-sik twisted the key slightly, spraying washer fluid on the fogged window.
The infected reacted in unison to the spray and wiper whine.
But they couldn't pinpoint the source.
They just jerked their heads and jaws frantically, like chickens pecking at feed.
With the windshield clear, the scene ahead laid bare.
He tried counting them visually.
Soon gave up.
Over a hundred easy; no point tallying.
"Hey."
Beom-sik called without opening his eyes.
"Yeah?"
"You said you streamed, right?"
"Yeah, on YouTube."
"Must've made bank. Over a million subs, yeah?"
"Well... lying if I said no."
"Listen to this punk."
Beom-sik muttered with a wry chuckle.
"But why bring it up?"
"Just... must've been tough for you too. A million's a big number—winning over that many hearts ain't easy. Hell, winning one is hard in this world."
"Doesn't feel that great, honestly."
Beom-sik turned, eyes still shut, to look at Hyun-soo.
His gaze out the window held a quiet loneliness.
"Why the mood swing?"
"I've made over a hundred million won so far. Guess how much is left?"
Beom-sik arched a brow instead of answering.
"Not a dime. And it was gonna stay that way."
"Gambling?"
"...At least that wouldn't feel so unfair."
"Then what?"
Intrigued now, he lifted his head from the rest and listened intently.
"Family debt. Every house has some, sure, but tens of billions? Not common."
"Yours?"
"No, my parents'. Dad, specifically. Classic story—trusted a buddy, co-signed, dominoes fell."
"How much you pay back?"
"Not even half. People call me that ass-show kid, but honestly, I did worse—just kept my clothes on. Sold my face long ago, gave up on dating obviously. No money left no matter how much I earned."
Hyun-soo spoke softly, reining in emotion.
"Sounds insane, but I like it now. No debt collectors banging down daily, wailing and raging. No faking myself in front of zombies. That fake speech, persona, voice—I was sick of it. This... this is me."
Beom-sik regarded him silently.
A decent-looking guy who couldn't even date? Wondered what wild shit he pulled on stream.
"Yeah. Might suit you better now. No debts to pay, no need to earn."
"But we staying here forever?"
"Got a brilliant plan?"
"No, but... figured you might."
"If I did, would I be sitting here listening to your whining?"
"Didn't mean to whine that bad..."
Hyun-soo's voice trailed off.
"Go out and do something. Your famous ass show, even. Who knows? Might like it."
"Ugh, seriously? Don't twist my pain like that."
"Look at you, sassing back now that I've softened."
"Sorry."
Beom-sik sighed shortly at Hyun-soo's quick submission.
Oddly endearing, though.
Not hateful like others; pity stirred too.
"Damn, should've grabbed that toy walkie-talkie from the mart back at the hospital. What an idiot."
Beom-sik's face lit up briefly, thinking he'd brought one, then shook his head and peered out.
That's when it happened—staring at the building's light beams for a long stretch.
A voice drifted by, dreamlike.
'If we get separated inside or trouble hits and we split up, check it every ten minutes. Contact when the last digit hits zero. Tested it—volume all the way down, you gotta press your ear to barely hear.'
He bolted upright.
Hyun-soo, leaning back, jumped in alarm.
"Wh-what? Fell asleep and now—"
"Asleep? Me?"
Beom-sik hadn't realized he'd dozed off.
"Yeah, snoring even. Debated waking you 'cause of the noise."
"Quiet."
His mind raced.
A dream, huh.
But the details were crystal clear.
Right.
The bag.
Beom-sik yanked open the bag's zipper.
Inside: a walkie-talkie and alarm clock.
"Huh? What's that? A walkie-talkie!"
Hyun-soo's eyes widened.
"What time now?"
"...29 minutes. Why?"
"Split them one each for if we got separated. Check every ten minutes."
Beom-sik flicked on the walkie-talkie.
Static hissed, power light glowed, channel connected—green light on.
Definitely said check every ten, when last digit zeros out.
Time ticked to 30, then 31.
"Hey, Han Jaejeong, you there? Old man! Hear me?!"
Silence from the radio.
"Fuck, never goes smooth. What the hell are they doing?"
"Chill, hyung! With shit this bad, they might not even think of it. Smash the radio like that, then what?"
Beom-sik, fist raised to slam the wheel, clenched it and held back.
He'd stay calm, then erupt volcanically at key moments.
To Hyun-soo, it seemed erratic, unpredictable—like a psycho or sociopath.
Calming, Beom-sik cracked the window.
Leaned half out, staring at the gas station, waving the walkie wildly.
No one looking.
"Wait. Hyung, isn't that an alarm clock in the bag?"
"Yeah, so?"
"Lure those bastards with it! Clear a path to the station!"
"With this? How?"
"Like this!"
Hyun-soo righted the overturned toolbox behind the seat.
A roll of duct tape tumbled out.
"Wrap it tight and toss—won't break. Thought you meant something else."
"It'll shatter, obviously. But like this..."
Seeing Beom-sik's disappointment, Hyun-soo pulled a thin autumn jacket from his bag.
Beom-sik's head tilted oddly.
"Wrap it."
He wound the jacket around the clock several times.
Slapped it hard with his palm.
Soft.
Barring rotten luck, it wouldn't break on impact.
Hyun-soo's face brightened.
"Clock works?"
"Yeah, tested before grabbing."
Beom-sik set the alarm as he answered.
One minute from now.
"At 20 seconds, I'll wrap it in your jacket. You count down from there, out loud. Got it?"
"Yeah, I'll do it. No—will do it."
They watched the second hand crawl.
No pre-winding; countdown might not sync with the clock.
That'd ring before they exited—dead meat.
50, 40, 30 seconds.
Hyun-soo suddenly asked.
"Where we throwing it?"
"I'll handle it! Watch the clock!"
At 20, Beom-sik snatched it, bundled it tight in the jacket.
Hyun-soo counted aloud.
"15, 14, 13, 12, 11..."
Beom-sik tore the tape, wrapping the bundle furiously.
No time to cut it.
Bit at it—wrinkled from winding, wouldn't snap.
"10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5!"
"Shit!"
"3! 2! 1!"
Thud!
Beom-sik bailed out.
Whirling the jacket-tape like a yo-yo, he hurled it with all his might.