Chapter 66: The Bloated Horror
Thud. Thud.
The line of soldiers stretched out horizontally, advancing with sharp daggers at the ready.
Only the crunch of their combat boots, the sound of swallowing, and the pounding of heartbeats filled the air.
Crackle! Crackle-crackle!
The wall-mounted lights sparked and flickered, briefly illuminating the pitch-black mart interior like a psychedelic strobe before plunging it back into darkness.
At the Squad Leader's hand signals, the platoon began splitting into squads.
The mart was just too damn big.
Sergeant Choi Hoon took point for their squad, leading the way.
Sergeant Kim Chan-yeol, the assistant squad leader, followed while directing the spacing between his men.
It was pitch black.
For some reason, the lights wouldn't come on, leaving everything shrouded in gloom.
The deeper they went, the more it felt like stepping into a cave.
Kim Chan-yeol, trailing right behind Sergeant Choi, suddenly froze.
A pungent stench assaulted his nostrils.
Rotting from somewhere nearby.
Not the smell of infected or decaying corpses.
Food. Rotten food, thick and foul.
Kim Chan-yeol shone his flashlight.
One step forward.
Where the beam hit, thousands of lumps scattered in chaotic frenzy.
"Gah!"
Sergeant Choi up ahead recoiled in horror, halting abruptly.
Cockroaches. Thousands of fist-sized monsters—if he was exaggerating just a bit—scrambling or flying away.
Sweeping the light around revealed signs for the butcher section and seafood corner.
Source of the stench found.
Apart from the rotting food and bugs, the area was spotless.
No infected sounds either.
Too clean.
This was his first time out since arriving, but no matter how he thought about it, it shouldn't be this tidy.
Recalling their entry into the Yeouido safe zone, the world outside was pure hell.
Bodies and chunks of flesh littering a mart like this wouldn't have been strange at all.
But something was off here.
Artificially so, maybe.
Still, better than the alternative.
Just as he started to loosen the tension a notch, the Squad Leader approached.
His finger pointed to a spot.
A silver door leading to the internal processing area for meats and seafood.
The kind staff in boots would use.
Kim Chan-yeol didn't like it.
But he had to go.
Demotion for disobeying orders? He'd rather die.
A few guys who'd already caused issues had dropped from corporal to private.
Harsh, sure, but in these times, it was for discipline.
A man's heart showed in his eyes.
Kim Chan-yeol clenched his jaw, swallowed dryly, his gaze wavering.
The Squad Leader's face didn't change.
— Enter.
It felt like the hand signal pointing at Sergeant Choi and him carried the Squad Leader's voice.
The two glanced back at their squadmates, then slowly opened the door as everyone watched with tense faces.
A narrow corridor, a few meters long.
Midway, a blue plastic boot—like those from a fish market freezer—lay dropped.
Sergeant Choi nodded as their eyes met.
Kim Chan-yeol nudged the boot aside with his rifle barrel and took point.
The processing room was utter blackness.
Nothing visible.
Click!
Kim Chan-yeol flicked on his flashlight.
White tiles on floor and walls snapped into sharp focus.
And... bloodstains.
Bloodstains?
"Ugh!"
Kim Chan-yeol pinched his nose and backed away, swinging the light.
Under the central workbench, a human torso lay face-down, bones stark and bare.
No flesh left at all.
Black clumps scattering again.
Bugs ate it?
No telling.
But the sight was gruesome beyond endurance.
No bones below the pelvis either.
He quickly swept the light to check the back.
That was it.
As Kim Chan-yeol emerged, fighting nausea, Sergeant Choi followed, grimacing and cursing.
"Fuck... fucking hell."
"What is it?"
The Squad Leader, gesturing for the squad returning from daily essentials, caught their reactions and asked.
"There's a skeleton inside, sir. Just bones."
"Just bones?"
The Squad Leader's eyes lit up at Kim Chan-yeol's report.
This guy's at it again.
"Yes, sir."
"Anything else? Something shiny?"
"Couldn't see details, sir."
"Then go look closer."
"Pardon?"
Kim Chan-yeol's face crumpled like paper.
But the Squad Leader's eyes were already gleaming with curiosity.
"Go check. Bugs or zombies might've eaten it, but not rings or watches stuck on the body."
"Come on, Squad Leader, why?"
Private Jeong piped up, trying to intervene.
Bad timing.
The Squad Leader's gaze sharpened viciously.
"Hey, Jeong Min-ho. You lost your mind?"
"No, sir."
Private Jeong snapped to attention.
"Can't hold your shit anymore 'cause I put up with everything? Gonna make an example like old times in front of the kids?"
"I'll be careful, sir."
Private Jeong's shoulders hunched at "old times."
What the hell happened back then...?
As question marks popped over the squad's heads,
"Entering now, sir."
Kim Chan-yeol boldly shoved the door open to draw the Squad Leader's eyes.
Leave it, and Private Jeong would bleed.
Kim Chan-yeol faced the skeleton again.
Won't ever get used to this.
The stench grew unimaginable up close, stabbing his nose.
Blood pool remnants on the floor.
Cockroaches fleeing down the drain as he squatted by the corpse.
Crazy bastard. Son of a bitch.
Even cursing inwardly didn't make it sink in.
Psycho? Paranoid?
Or zombie apocalypse PTSD?
How long till this shit ends?
Light tracing empty ribs to shoulder, elbow, fingertips.
Nothing.
Just scraps of meat too small to identify.
"Hoo..."
He exhaled the urge to puke and stood.
Swept the area once more, turning to leave—something glinted in Kim Chan-yeol's eye.
By the drain.
A ring?
Silver, blending with the tile edge and color, now reflecting the beam.
Couldn't stay longer.
Snatched it quick and bolted out.
Sorry. Sorry.
Apologizing inwardly to the dead as he emerged, Kim Chan-yeol met the eyes of a pig in human skin—not the Squad Leader.
The Squad Leader grinned at the silver ring in his hand.
Twirled it, reading the engraved initials aloud, delighted.
Memories flashed: leaving base, loading supplies for Yeouido.
Ripping a watch and necklace from a head-smashed infected.
Spoils. His fucking spoils.
This wasn't human.
Not PTSD.
True nature laid bare.
That was the verdict.
Right then.
Thud!
All eyes snapped to the ceiling.
Squad Leader too.
Thud!
Kim Chan-yeol's flashlight instinctively hit the 2nd-floor directory by the escalator.
Clothing stores and offices.
Office took up about a third, judging by the map.
Didn't want to go up.
1st floor cleared quiet.
Grab necessities, get out fast.
Time dragging already.
Squad Leader keyed his radio.
"Noise from upstairs."
Crackle!
[Time's short.]
Company commander's voice crackled through.
"1st floor search done. While 2nd Company loads essentials, how about we check upstairs? Thorough sweep for return trips."
Silence for seconds.
Please, just say pull out.
Crackle!
[Squad Leader's call. But don't dawdle.]
"Understood, sir."
Hopes dashed, Kim Chan-yeol closed his eyes.
Squad Leader's finger pointed at Sergeant Choi.
"You with me upstairs. Rest of squad, help with supplies. Down in 10."
"Yes, sir."
Other squads' leaders replied with relieved—or gleeful—brightness, vanishing.
Sergeant Choi and Kim Chan-yeol climbed the stalled escalator with their men.
Lost items jammed everywhere; they kicked them aside.
At 2nd floor, Kim Chan-yeol killed his light.
Unlike below, plenty of windows.
Fog dulled the sun, but enough for visibility.
Open clothing area: no real search needed. Just a casual lap.
Offices were the issue.
Opening the sturdy door revealed a hallway splitting left and right, hospital-wing sized.
No more thuds.
Sergeant Choi took point now.
He slung his rifle.
Drew his bayonet instead.
Long gun less efficient in tight halls.
Veteran instincts.
Kim Chan-yeol followed suit, gripping his knife.
Squad Leader and Private Jeong veered opposite with knives, eyes hungry with expectation, fearless.
Kim Chan-yeol turned away, done reading those eyes.
Light seeped through windows, spotting the hall.
Security, general affairs—well-organized divisions.
Makes sense for a multi-floor mart.
"Sergeant Choi."
"What?"
Sergeant Choi murmured low, eyes forward.
Kim Chan-yeol wondered suddenly.
What lay at this struggle's end? Survival fatigue already grinding.
"After securing Yeouido... what's next, sir?"
"Dunno."
Classic Sergeant Choi.
But Kim Chan-yeol vented on.
"Probably push back to Gangnam, sir. Reinforce outer walls, search like now... Eventually fortify all Seoul, but with current pop? No chance. Who knows how many survivors out there."
"What's your point?"
Sergeant Choi turned at hall's end.
"Just... wondering what's at the end lately."
"Hey."
"Sergeant Kim Chan-yeol, sir."
Sergeant Choi finally turned fully, lowering his knife.
Hand on Kim's shoulder.
"Hoo, Chan-yeol. Told you since you were green. You think too much. Army life's no place for overthinkers. We just follow orders. Done fine so far, right?"
"Yes, sir."
Kim Chan-yeol nodded reluctantly.
"When that time comes like you say, we'll enjoy what we can't now, find new fun. Obviously. Can't live fretting when power or gas cuts. Focus on being alive for now."
"Thanks, sir. Realizing I overthought it."
"Yeah. Thinking deep ain't bad. Fucking world's shit anyway. Natural. But upsides too."
"Like what, sir?"
"No worrying about lung cancer from smokes, at least. Might not live that long. Death anytime—who cares good or bad? Enjoy freely. That's a perk."
Weirdly positive.
Not wrong, though.
Kim Chan-yeol nodded.
And.
Thud!
Both heads whipped to the room next door.
Right beside.
Door handle within arm's reach for Sergeant Choi.
They split left and right like pros, knives raised.
"One, two, three."
Sergeant Choi's breathy count ended; door flew open.
They stared inside—and froze solid.
A grotesque giant filled the office, body swollen to brush the ceiling, sides bursting, glaring down at them.
That instant.
Kraaaah!
"R-Run, sir!"
"Aaaah!"
"No shooting!"
From the office entrance by the clothing store—where they'd split from the squad—countless infected roars tangled with screams.
Infected People