A Father's Desperate Plea
“Fuck!”
Lee Beom-sik hurled the brick he’d been carrying and sprinted across the road.
Judging by the distance between the six-wheeler truck and the child, he couldn’t be certain he’d make it.
He whipped his head around to glare at the soldier gripping the steering wheel.
The soldier was in a state of extreme agitation, though why was anyone’s guess.
Whether it was the fog or something else, he hadn’t even registered the child’s presence.
The kid, who’d been sobbing and trailing filth, finally noticed the massive truck barreling straight toward her.
“Huh?”
The driver spotted her too, a split second later.
It was too late to swerve—the collision was imminent.
Gritting his teeth, the soldier slammed on the brakes and yanked the wheel.
Skreeeech—
As the tires screeched across the pavement, Beom-sik appeared, scooping up the child and vanishing.
He rolled several times across the ground, blood trickling from his head.
He’d tumbled straight over scattered rocks and debris.
Even so, his arms stayed wrapped protectively around the child’s head and body until the end.
Soldiers spilled out of the skidding six-wheeler, crashing into each other and cursing up a storm.
But the mood was off—something wasn’t right.
The driver from the cab just stared at Beom-sik and the kid in shock, while the rest vaulted the fence without even forming ranks, bolting away.
More trucks rumbled in behind them.
The tattooed gang members and Hyun-soo rushed over, checking on Beom-sik’s condition.
The terrified child wailed uncontrollably, not knowing what to do.
That’s when Anna tilted her head.
Something’s weird. Were there really only military trucks like that?
The soldiers had abandoned their trucks haphazardly amid the supplies, fleeing over the fence like they were being chased.
You okay?
Beom-sik gently pried the child away, asking with his eyes.
The sobbing girl looked up with effort, meeting his gaze.
Then, as if reuniting with family, she buried her face in his chest and burst into fresh tears.
Beom-sik, suddenly aware of his sweat-soaked body, tried to hold her off, but he couldn’t resist her grip. He ended up cradling her for a good long while.
Han Jaejeong rubbed his wrist, still smarting from being chased out of the production zone by the manager.
In contrast, Kang Youngman’s eyes were fixed on the towering tower.
“That was a close call—could’ve turned into a real headache. Showing up right then of all times. Still, I wonder if Minyoung’s doing alright.”
“She will be.”
“It’s ironic, isn’t it? She’s in the same safe zone, but we’ve never even laid eyes on her. Back then, you said she was helping make a vaccine or whatever, and I said sure, fine—but I can’t help worrying if she can really handle it, especially since it’s got nothing to do with her field.”
“She’s probably just assisting. They said there are people who normally do it. It’s meaningful work, though—try to think of it that way.”
Jaejeong tried to soothe him, but Youngman’s expression didn’t brighten.
Having never raised a child himself, Jaejeong couldn’t fully empathize with Youngman’s concerns.
He got it on an intellectual level, at best.
“We have to think positively. She’s in the safest spot in the entire safe zone.”
“Exactly.”
“And speaking of... let’s drop that warehouse idea for now.”
“Why?”
“The manager let it slide earlier, but think about all the late arrivals to the safe zone watching us. Folks are busting their asses out here with sweat and blood. If we hold our positions steady, the rest of our group gets assigned housing too. Let’s keep quiet for a while.”
Jaejeong found Youngman’s sudden loss of resolve odd, but he nodded in agreement anyway.
Truth be told, the thought had crossed his mind too.
No need to gamble when doing their assigned jobs right would make life easier for everyone.
Especially not over some trivial curiosity.
But why did he still feel the urge to check it out?
Detective instincts?
Or just human nosiness?
Still...
Something’s off.
Lost in thought, Jaejeong heard footsteps approaching from afar.
The frantic pace yanked both their gazes over at once.
It was the production zone manager, sprinting full-tilt on legs that looked like they’d snap at a touch.
Did he have unfinished business? Or had that earlier incident caused trouble?
As various possibilities raced through Jaejeong’s mind, the manager pulled up right in front of them, gasping for breath and working his mouth.
Youngman, watching gravely, spoke up.
“What’s the matter?”
“Over... there... huff... I’m gonna die. You two—head to the tower, quick.”
“The tower?”
So trouble had brewed after all?
“Yes. Oh, I get what you’re thinking—no, it’s not about that. I’m not the type to blab anyway. It’s important—hurry.”
“If you’re this insistent, it must be serious. Let’s go.”
“Right.”
Leaving the manager behind, Jaejeong and Youngman hurried off.
A young woman they’d seen outside Park Yi-hyun-seok and Kwon Jeong-woo’s offices waited in front of the tower.
The doctor gave a curt nod of greeting, then led them swiftly inside.
Moments later.
Arriving at a small room, Jaejeong and Youngman followed the doctor’s lead and stepped in.
The wood-paneled space held a long table where two men sat.
The back of one head was unmistakably Jeong I-jin; across from him sat a stranger.
From the combat uniform and insignia, Jaejeong instantly pegged him as the division commander he’d heard about.
The doctor, entering last and closing the door, introduced them.
“I’ve brought them.”
“Ah, good. Sorry to drag you here when you’re busy. Have a seat.”
The division commander exuded a humble, down-to-earth vibe that belied his rank and age.
“Then I’ll head back to work.”
“Yes, Doctor.”
Jaejeong watched the doctor bow politely and leave, then took the seat beside Jeong I-jin, with Youngman next to him.
All three sets of eyes turned to the division commander.
“As you may have heard, I’m Major General Hwang Jang-seong, currently holding the division commander position. You’re Senior Kang Youngman, correct?”
“Yes, that’s me.”
Youngman answered, looking bewildered.
“Meeting you in person is truly moving. Someone I’ve only read about in books...”
“Can you tell us what this is about?”
“Ah, yes. I’ve asked Captain Jeong and the person in charge here for a favor, so I arranged this meeting. It’s urgent—neck-and-neck timing. And since Senior was with you, I had you brought right away.”
The three stared him down wordlessly, waiting for more.
“My son is missing.”
The room fell deathly silent, as if time itself had frozen.
The division commander’s son—that’s the squad leader Kim Chan-yeol mentioned?
As Jaejeong rummaged through his memories,
“As you know, we had an operation today. The plan was to stockpile daily necessities and rice from a nearby large mart before expansion work finished. But only my son and one platoon from his squad didn’t return.”
“So the other squads made it back?”
Jaejeong asked.
“Yes. But the testimonies we’re hearing are... hard to believe.”
The division commander hesitated.
He looked torn, like he wasn’t sure if he should say it, then sighed and continued.
“They say a monster several times the size of a normal adult surrounded the troops alongside zombies, like it was lying in wait. At the time, only that one platoon and my son the squad leader were on the second floor. They say the last sighting was at the base of the escalator. After that, the things swarmed suddenly, forcing them to flee...”
It had come to pass exactly as Jaejeong feared.
The dreaded scenario had unfolded.
He prayed Kim Chan-yeol wasn’t in that platoon.
But that hope shattered like paper at the sight of the list the division commander slid across the table. Private First Class Kim Chan-yeol was clearly listed.
Jaejeong’s face darkened.
“Here’s the platoon roster. I’m not even asking for the dog tags of the fallen. Just rescue them. Please.”
“There are plenty of skilled soldiers besides us, I hear.”
“If there were, I wouldn’t be begging like this. I’ve judged there’s only one shot at this. And it needs to be the best.”
The division commander addressed Jaejeong impatiently, his face etched with agony.
Even this back-and-forth felt like wasted time.
Youngman spoke next.
“I hate to say it, but any survival signals? This could go wrong for a rescue team too. You know the level of risk in what you’re asking.”
“Yes, I do. But there’s a survival signal. Radios don’t reach here, but step outside the range a bit and transmission works. I know my son’s alive, with a few platoon members. How can I sit idle as a father?”
“Tell us what you heard on the radio.”
“First off, my son... he’s alive. With some platoon members. The mart’s first floor is clear. Trouble started when they took the escalator to the second floor. Details from the comms officer who made contact on the retreat—you can hear it yourselves when he returns. I’ll provide as many troops as needed.”
Jaejeong and Jeong I-jin’s eyes met.
Jeong I-jin was already set.
Not because he was the division commander or because it was an order—how could anyone refuse such a heartfelt plea from one human to another?
He might sit at the pinnacle of military power in the safe zone, but before his child, he was just a desperate father.
That moved all three of them.
Jaejeong nodded, as if resolved, and spoke to the division commander.
“This isn’t something mass troops can fix.”
“Then what should we do?”
“You’d just pile up more casualties. We need a small, elite team.”
Jeong I-jin nodded in agreement.
“Whatever it takes. I’ll support anything you need.”
“No need for extras. From the people who came in with me—attach Lee Beom-sik and Anna. One truck, and the best driver in your division.”
“Any chance of success?”
“We don’t know the interior yet, but we’ve already faced that ‘giant monster’ once.”
Youngman nodded beside him.
The enormous beast the soldiers described had to be like the one they fought in the hospital cafeteria.
And Jaejeong hadn’t mentioned Hyun-soo for a simple reason.
He wasn’t suited for combat ops like this.
Beom-sik and Anna weren’t ideal either, but they were better than Hyun-soo.
In Jaejeong’s view, rescues hinged more on efficiency than raw skill.
Putting in someone who’d fought the thing before made sense.
Plus, syncing with total strangers on a critical op was too risky.
They could handle the heavy lifting, just the two of them anyway.
“We’ll head out immediately. If the situation differs from what I expect and we need more forces, we’ll move to radio range and request.”
“Thank you—truly, thank you.”
The division commander gripped Jaejeong’s hand, rising to bow deeply.
The division commander hadn’t leveraged his military authority in the safe zone, nor condescended with age.
Truth be told, the moment he’d made such a request, refusal was impossible.
Reaching the boundary zone, Jaejeong met Beom-sik and Anna tending to the child and explained the situation.
Whether from surviving near-death so many times or the chance to escape this place even briefly, they accepted readily.
Jaejeong stressed it repeatedly.
You could die. This one’s really dangerous.
But their reactions were lukewarm.
Like they were saying, decide already and let’s go.
Can we really pull off the rescue?
Even Jaejeong lacked certainty.
Partly from unknown details, but every moment would demand improvisation.
Trust in himself and smart use of experience—that was it.
The comms and supply soldiers who’d exchanged radio chatter with the squad leader during retreat appeared, handing out weapons and briefing the group.
“First floor’s clean. Issues start at the central escalator to the second. You’ll see a clothing store with good sightlines right away, and an office next door. Not a small one—think a whole company branch slapped on. Separate hallway inside, departments lined along it. Check the radio yourselves, but the squad leader’s pinned in the storage room, we judge.”
“Building size?”
Jaejeong asked.
“Five floors total. Fourth up is parking, we think.”
Jaejeong nodded and sent the comms soldier back. The six-wheeler truck approached, belching thick black smoke.
Nothing more to hear.
Now it was a race against time.