The Unyielding Flag
Kraaak!
A man in blue clothes still clutching a flag, even after mutating.
And of all things, he was at the very front.
Was it his obsession with life that kept him from letting go of that flag until the bitter end?
If only there hadn't been the fog, if visibility had been even a little better, this pointless death might have been avoided.
But he was already infected, and there was no turning back.
There was no time for mourning right now.
Survival came first.
Lee Beom-sik slowly backed away.
By the time the thing charging at him with its jaws split wide arrived, he twisted his body aside in an instant, dodging.
Thanks to that, three out of the five couldn't change direction and slid into each other.
Thud!
He jammed a tree branch into the temple of one of the two following behind.
Something no human could ever attempt.
But these were just monsters in human shape.
He repeated it to himself several times.
Swinging his arm with all his might to smash a rock into the remaining one's head.
One hit.
It had to end in one hit.
But had he swung too wildly?
The rock in his hand couldn't withstand the centrifugal force and flew from his palm.
At that moment, the gaping maw closed in right before his eyes.
Splat!
In a panic, he kicked it down.
The fallen one had the rotten luck of cracking its skull open on a metal lump rolling across the ground.
The real problem came next.
The three that had tumbled and slid caught right up behind him.
Lee Beom-sik's pupils dilated rapidly as he glanced back.
Too late?
An infected's hand grabbed his t-shirt, and the other two lunged from both sides.
He tried to shake off the arm and shove it away, but he was outmatched in raw strength.
Lee Beom-sik gritted his teeth against the imminent pain.
This was the end.
They say your life flashes before your eyes when death is near, but it was a little different.
It was already playing in his mind, not his eyes.
Looking back, things hadn't always been miserable from the start.
In his very early childhood, when his little brother was just starting to toddle around as a baby, the family had been harmonious.
One of those incredibly brief, precious moments in life.
The four of them sat across from each other in their cramped single room, laughing warmly as they ate.
And in the same room, the same spot, his father was beating his mother.
Lee Beom-sik huddled in the kitchen, trembling while hugging his crying brother.
He couldn't do a thing.
It wasn't just helplessness—it felt like his very existence was being erased.
All he could do was pray for the moment to pass quickly.
The memories sped through his school days, leading to the image of himself ruling the local school.
Torn uniform, blood trickling from his mouth.
Not much different from how he looked now.
The only difference was that a hint of innocence still lingered in his eyes back then.
And then his father died.
No—he killed his father.
After juvenile hall, his brother vanished.
Once he reached adulthood, there weren't many memories worth noting.
Just the dull recollections of rising through the organization.
And then...
At the end of the life reel, the same memory replayed in crystal clarity.
The family gathered around the round table, chatting amiably.
His parents beaming with joy at their baby brother, who kept tumbling as he tried to walk.
And Lee Beom-sik's own bright, curious eyes watching his little brother's growth in wonder.
Thin tears welled in Lee Beom-sik's eyes.
He hadn't cried since growing up.
He'd lived harder than anyone, sharpening a knife in his heart all the while.
In the next life...
Thud! Thud!
The unfamiliar bursting sounds snapped Lee Beom-sik's half-lost consciousness wide awake.
Soldiers had appeared out of nowhere, smashing the heads of the infected lunging at him from both sides.
Whoosh! Crunch!
An arrow?
He whipped around in shock.
Standing atop a fallen compact car nearby, drawing her bowstring, was none other than Anna.
Once she confirmed the area was safe, Anna collapsed onto the car roof like she'd run herself to death.
The soldiers were panting just as hard.
"We lost you when the fog thickened suddenly and the speed difference kicked in. Glad we weren't too late, though."
A soldier shoving aside the infected corpse replied.
This whole situation felt like a dream to Lee Beom-sik.
It lacked any sense of reality.
He turned to look at the arrow embedded in the infected's head.
How the hell was she holding a bow?
He distinctly remembered all weapons being confiscated.
"We heard she was a good shot with a bow, so we grabbed one from the armory. In a situation like this, a bow's way more useful than a gun."
Another soldier, catching his gaze, answered.
For a split second, Lee Beom-sik recalled Anna slipping away alone somewhere while the Work Leader was blabbing in front of the group.
She must have picked up the bow then.
He turned to the sprawled corpses on the ground.
A prickling sensation tingled at his fingertips.
The strange relief of being alive turned into chills racing through his body the moment he saw the bodies.
Only now did he notice the thick taste filling his mouth.
Spit.
Red blood poured out like he'd spat water.
He must have bitten his cheek when he clenched his teeth earlier.
Only then did the pain start to register.
Anna rushed over, startled by the blood.
"What? You hurt?"
"Nah, it's nothing."
Lee Beom-sik gazed quietly at Anna.
Her brow furrowed unpleasantly.
"Why're you staring like that?"
"...Thanks."
"Jeez, what'd you expect? C'mon, let's go."
Anna shouldered her bow and turned.
The soldiers merged with their main unit and focused on securing the perimeter.
Trucks began pouring through the fog behind them.
Trucks parked at intervals, waiting for the cranes.
Soon the cranes arrived one after another.
Attaching the outer walls section by section in order would take too long, so construction kicked off immediately along the lines Lee Beom-sik had marked, by segment.
Lee Beom-sik, walking into the fog with Anna, suddenly halted.
"What now?"
"Go on ahead. I'll catch up."
"...Whatever."
After sending Anna off, Lee Beom-sik immediately sought out the blue-clad corpse.
He stared silently at the man's mangled, head-smashed body.
"Hey, mister! Move it! We gotta work!"
A man in a truck's driver's seat gestured for him to get out of the way.
Looking around, he saw a crane lifting an outer wall from a truck.
"Just a sec."
Lee Beom-sik muttered low and crouched to rummage through the corpse.
Sure enough, something came from the pocket.
A wallet.
Opening it revealed a photo of a family of three.
"Hey, I said move!"
Ignoring the angry protest, Lee Beom-sik pocketed the whole wallet and stood.
It didn't seem like the young daughter would have a photo like this.
Still, keeping at least one trace of her dad this way felt right.
It wouldn't be easy to hand it over, but better than nothing.
Imagining the kid's reaction made his head throb.
But no matter how he turned it over, this seemed the best option.
Lee Beom-sik forced his heavy legs to move.
* * *
At that moment, the Third Company, including Sergeant Kim Chan-yeol, was heading to the large mart.
They'd been ordered to secure supplies during the construction lull.
Infected could return anytime, and they had to be back before work finished—speed was life.
The problem? They didn't have much combat experience to boast about.
Probably true for half the unit.
The first time they'd shot anyone was forming the defensive line when the safe zone was made.
No, zombies, maybe.
Whatever the difference, they'd put countless bullets into heads.
But that was over two days ago.
Third time out since then.
He lit a cigarette in the shaking troop transport.
Anxiety? All he could think about was smokes.
He at least had shot infected and even done hand-to-hand, but the kids below...
Glancing aside, the privates sat with tense faces.
They'd built rear defenses, never fought up front.
Two days of just hearing gunshots and the infected's weird cries from behind.
Sergeant Kim Chan-yeol locked eyes with the rookie.
His hand gripping the stock was shaking.
Seemed like the truck's motion at a glance, but Kim knew better.
He'd been the same at first.
He read the anxiety but said nothing.
No words would change it.
The gap between someone who'd killed a zombie and someone who hadn't couldn't be bridged by talk.
"Fuck, what I can't wrap my head around is riding these damn troop trucks into this shit."
Rough curses spilled from Sergeant Choi across the way, who was smoking too.
'Yeah, makes sense. Zombies are noise-sensitive.'
"Shoulda just blasted music or something, the bastards."
"They need 'em to haul stuff back. Better than carrying it ourselves, right?"
Private Jung, checking his rifle nearby, soothed him.
Both sergeants, but Jung had just been promoted this month, while Choi was shipping out soon.
"Zombies in my last month. Fuck, zombies in my last month. Across the whole world—no, the universe—no one's had a shittier service than me."
"Sigh, how many times you gonna say it? I figure we'll never discharge. Just let it go. Hey, Chan-yeol."
Private Jung beckoned him.
"Sergeant Kim Chan-yeol."
"Gimme one."
"Uh... I don't have many left. You said you'd pay back that pack from a few days ago."
"C'mon, fine. I'll risk my neck for yours at the mart today."
"Ha, seriously running low..."
Kim Chan-yeol fiddled with his last few cigs before reluctantly handing one over.
Private Jung tilted his head, sensing something off.
"Huh? Wait, Chan-yeol, you don't even smoke these. Switched brands?"
"In times like these, picky? Just got it from someone."
"From who? Who's doing nice shit like that?"
Han Jaejeong's face flashed in Kim Chan-yeol's mind.
Seen him a few times, but he felt oddly comfortable, likable.
Maybe from trading punches.
"Someone. Got a light?"
"Nah, I got a lighter."
Suddenly, Han Jaejeong's worried face from when they talked about the squad leader popped up.
That was genuine concern.
While the old-timer next to him still whined about discharge.
'Oh yeah, the squad leader...'
He'd forgotten.
What crazy souvenir that nut would grab today.
Screech!
The troop trucks screeched to a halt in front of the large mart.
As ordered, no one dismounted; they unlocked their rifles first.
If any were around, the noise would draw them.
Morning fog so thick nothing was visible.
Grotesque, like some foreign horror flick.
After tense seconds scanning while listening to each other's breaths—
The passenger door opened; the squad leader hopped out first.
Followed by hand signals.
Soldiers clustered by platoon split into squads, taking positions at each corner of the intersection with the mart.
No reaction to the trucks' racket meant the area was probably safe.
Still couldn't relax.
Only after the whole company swept the mart perimeter did the order come to enter.
Screech! Screeech!
Forcing the stuck automatic doors open made metal scream.
As planned, two platoons guarded outside; the other two went in.
If shots rang out outside, haul ass back to the trucks before more piled in.
The untouched mart interior was cool—chillingly so—with frigid air.
Kim Chan-yeol, entering with tense four-way watch, got goosebumps from the eerie chill.
"Fix bayonets."
The squad leader's voice echoed low off the walls; the whole platoon slotted knives under their barrels.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
Reaching the counter, the squad leader smashed the stainless steel with his stock.
Primary internal check.
Kim Chan-yeol swallowed dryly, bayonet tip forward.
Infected People