Mart Rescue
Rumble! Rumble!
Aboard the jostling six-wheeler truck, the group sank into their own thoughts.
It was the first glimpse of the outside world since entering the safe zone, but nothing had changed.
Human remains scattered everywhere, bloodstains, the crumbling cityscape, and now a putrid stench that amplified the grotesque atmosphere.
Youngman gazed at the safe zone's outer wall fading into the thick fog, thinking of Minyoung.
Rescuing someone was never easy.
His experience screamed that losing one person—or all of them—in the process wouldn't be strange at all.
Anna felt an unfamiliar melancholy.
The wrecked streets shrouded in fog offered no hope whatsoever.
The first few days had been a blur of desperate survival, no holds barred.
But as time passed and moments for reflection emerged, doubts multiplied with the lengthening shadow of this new world order.
How long could this system last?
Even if they turned all of Yeouido into a safe zone, supplies—meds, weapons—would eventually run dry.
Then a cold could kill you. A single cut could be fatal.
Are we the last generation?
If death came, she just hoped it wouldn't turn her into one of those things.
Beom-sik, on the other hand, thought of nothing.
He was born to relish the fight and savor victory.
Especially in ventures with unpredictable outcomes.
That aside, he found it odd that they'd brought him and Anna along despite all those soldiers available.
But there had to be a reason.
Reasons didn't matter—situations did.
Death had never scared him.
Jaejeong toyed with the radio. I-jin stared silently outside.
Soon, once inside comms range, they'd make contact.
I-jin felt the tension, but it wasn't fear.
He didn't dwell on failure.
Only on mission success.
And with Jaejeong beside him, it felt even more solid.
The Jaejeong in his memory had always stood out.
Screech!
The truck halted. A hand gestured from the driver's window, now rolled down.
They were in range.
Jaejeong grabbed the radio.
Crackle!
"Any personnel receiving? Come in."
The reply was immediate.
[Who the hell is this?]
The voice dripped with insufferable arrogance.
You could feel the disdain in his tone.
"Rescue team. Identify yourself."
[Who the fuck are you to demand that? Never heard your voice before. No comms officer?]
"Hoo."
Jaejeong sighed once, then keyed the mic again.
"State your affiliation and name. Fail to follow procedure, and the rescue team's turning back."
Crackle!
[Listen here, you little shit. Cut the crap and get your ass here already.]
Jaejeong's facial muscles twisted satisfyingly.
"Hey, listen up. I won't say it twice. If you don't wanna rot in some dusty storage closet choking on the stench till you starve, shut your trap and do as you're told. I'm not military. If I don't like you, I can pretend to rescue you and feed you to the zombies—no skin off my back."
[You motherfucker! When I get out, you're the first one I'm—]
"Hey, start her up. We're heading back. Good luck surviving on your own."
Jaejeong pointed toward the safe zone for the driver and cut the transmission.
Crackle!
The response came frantically.
[Wait! Fine, got it. I'm not alone here. Sure, whatever for me, but the others? What, let 'em die like dogs?]
What a half-assed plea.
"How many survivors?"
[Well... just me in the storage room. No clue where the rest are. But I saw them scatter to other rooms. Hurry up, man. Every second counts.]
Even now, lacing his words with pride—this guy was no ordinary punk.
He knew who held the keys to life and death, yet still talked like that.
Stupid? Or just that proud?
But Jaejeong wasn't one to let it slide.
"Start over. Affiliation and name."
The answer came right away.
"Current situation?"
[Not sure on details, but over half got taken by zombies. Hope you heard—bring extra mags. Fuck, how do I even explain? There's a monster bigger than a goddamn bear. I can barely believe it myself saying it, but one hit from that thing caved in a guy's skull. Real monster. No bullshit.]
The squad leader piled on details, fearing Jaejeong might not believe him.
"Dealt with one before at the hospital. I know. No need to convince me. Describe the interior layout. Need to map our route."
[One question first.]
Crackle!
"Shoot."
[You bring Jeong I-jin?]
"Yeah. He's here."
[Phew, fuck. We're saved.]
Jaejeong held back a fuming I-jin with a hand and continued.
The junior barking his senior's name by name had pissed him off.
"Tell us everything we need to know."
[Auto-doors should be open. Past the counters, escalator inside. 2F directory map right before it—head up, office entrance by the clothing store. No clue where zombies might swarm from. Believe it or not, they waited till we were fully in, then swarmed front and back like a pincer.]
"Got it. Radio silence after this for security. Sit tight."
Beep—
Jaejeong twisted the knob off mid-reply.
Youngman, who'd listened intently, turned to I-jin.
I-jin's name had come up—some connection, no doubt.
"He always this much of a prick?"
"Yes, sir. Worse, even. Father's a division commander—thinks he's untouchable."
I-jin replied politely.
"Raising kids ain't easy."
"Let's move."
Jaejeong thumped the truck, signaling the driver. The engine roared back to life, belching smoke toward the mart.
While rolling, Jaejeong briefed the four.
"Once 1F's clear, Beom-sik, you and Anna hold here. Uncle, watch outside for any surprises."
"Got it."
"And you?"
Beom-sik eyed him curiously.
Dragging them this far just to babysit 1F?
"I'll call if needed. Rescue in tight spaces—me and I-jin can handle it solo. Better that way."
"Fine."
This wasn't pride.
Beom-sik had once dug into Jaejeong's past when he was on his tail.
He knew the guy had military spec-ops experience.
Family, associates—rough sketch.
No argument there.
Jaejeong was the pro here.
Support role? Plenty.
Goal was rescue, not showboating.
He could judge that much.
Anna watched the three converse closely.
Especially scrutinizing I-jin.
As a longtime athlete, she knew the signs.
Lean muscle, no fat—slim ankles and wrists, sleek neck, thick forearms.
Agility incarnate.
If Jaejeong wielded raw power for speed, I-jin was born nimble.
Belts crammed with daggers, scythe on his back—guy handled weapons like breathing.
Shing—
At the mart entrance, the driver killed the engine in neutral, no brakes.
Let momentum fade naturally.
Those things reacted to the slightest noise.
Truck stopped dead. The group dismounted, Jaejeong leading straight in.
Passing wide-open auto-doors, he swapped his back-slung sledge for a dagger.
Tight aisles—stabbing beat swinging.
Classic knife-fight stance.
I-jin followed at a distance, scythe gleaming blue.
Anna nocked an arrow, ready.
Beom-sik gripped his awl, braced for ambush.
Last in, Youngman hugged the doors, scanning outside.
Every step, they held their breath.
Intel said mutants and infected together.
That puzzled Jaejeong.
Hospital mutant had attacked humans and zombies alike.
But this? Coordinated assault.
New evolution? Or something worse spawned?
Moments later.
After sweeping past the escalator to fish and meat sections, they caught a breather.
Jaejeong signaled Beom-sik and Anna.
They nodded from near the escalator.
Memorized the 2F map on the wall, ascended slowly.
Jaejeong glanced at I-jin.
I-jin cracked his neck, dagger in his free left hand.
VIP escort, hordes felled.
But this was different.
Both hands armed.
Others at risk? Nah—these two didn't fuck up.
Up they went, escalator like stairs.
Halfway, they peeked 2F in sync.
Fog cleared; sunlight poured through windows, illuminating inside.
Jaejeong spotted three.
I-jin, two.
Total five.
Couldn't see past distant shelves, but five right there.
Nodded, crested fully.
Footsteps alerted one—it turned, all five reacted.
Good—no more behind.
Jaejeong sheathed dagger, drew sledge, charged first.
Kraaah—
Measuring the lunger's distance, he swung a sledge arc.
Crunch!
Skull shattered, filling the air.
Flanking, I-jin hurled a dagger into a late reactant's forehead.
Perfect hit—leapt clothing racks, scythed the next throat clean.
Splurt!
Black ichor splashed white tiles.
Two down in a blink.
Glancing, Jaejeong booted a charger down, smashed its skull thunderously.
Thud! Crunch!
Flesh or bone sprayed with black—ignored, pivoted.
Last one nose-to-nose.
Too close to swing.
Dropped sledge, drew waist dagger, stabbed low-to-high.
No time to raise arm.
Success.
Dagger pierced jaw into brain; the drooling beast collapsed into meat.
Last one.
No relaxing—they scanned briskly.
Fewer than expected.
Same thought:
'So they're all in there...'
Gazes locked on the office.
Maybe this was it—fear inflating memories.
'Let's go.'
Jaejeong nodded I-jin, took point.
Infected People