Whispers in the Fog
Han Jaejeong stepped out of the barracks early that morning and stretched his arms high.
Lately, the temperature had been plummeting to unbelievable lows deep into the night.
As a result, a thick fog—one you’d only expect in the dead of winter—had been rolling in more frequently these days.
It got even worse right after it rained.
Breathing in the morning air amid the hazy surroundings, he felt an odd unease.
The area was far enough from the other zones that even the smallest noises didn’t carry, making everything feel eerily desolate.
He stood there blankly, staring into the fog, when Kang Youngman emerged, scratching at his prickly beard.
“Where to today… Damn, this fog’s so thick I can’t see a thing.”
“Yeah. Still, we’ve got work to do.”
“Bad enough with my presbyopia.”
Youngman grumbled, peering into the murk.
“Presbyopia, my ass. No one your age has eyes as sharp as yours.”
“Don’t even get me started. At my age, the minute it gets a little dark, everything vanishes.”
“That’s not presbyopia—that’s night blindness.”
“Whatever it is, the point is I can’t see shit.”
Jaejeong cracked a smile at Youngman’s complaints.
The two of them had devoted more than half their days—excluding sleep—to maintaining order in the safe zone.
There hadn’t been any real incidents to handle, but the simple satisfaction of doing something was reward enough.
Especially when passing through the production zone: residents recognized them, offered greetings, thanked them for the sense of security. Sometimes they even slipped them snacks as a bonus.
The soldiers, unprompted, would snap to attention and salute as one.
All in all, it wasn’t bad.
Compared to when they’d first arrived, it felt like a blessing.
Hell, he was even grateful the squad leader had holed up in that mart for them.
Of course, the dead soldiers were a tragedy…
The rescue team’s exploits had spread like wildfire through the safe zone by now—no one even brought it up anymore.
There’d been some latecomer hazing at first, but the rescue op changed everything.
“Yaaawn!”
Anna stretched as she stepped out from the next barracks over, kicking off a chain reaction: Lee Beom-sik, Lee Hyun-soo, and even Gaon emerged from the one after that.
While Anna went through her habitual stretches, Beom-sik and Hyun-soo raised their arms toward some vague point in the fog.
Then they began moving them slowly, left to right.
Hyun-soo to the left, Beom-sik to the right.
Gaon frowned at their mismatched directions.
“Ugh, Uncle! You start from the right!”
Thwack!
Gaon’s surprisingly loud voice rang out as her palm slammed mercilessly into Hyun-soo’s side.
“Gah! Hey! What the hell, you little brat—how’s a hand that tiny hit so hard?”
Hyun-soo spun around in shock, yelling, but Gaon just demonstrated with a flourish, starting her stretches from the right.
Thankfully, Gaon was adapting better as time went on.
The first few nights, the group had barely slept through her nightly sobs, but whether it was Beom-sik’s efforts or just her own resilience, the kid was holding up remarkably well for her age.
“Auntie Anna’s so pretty. Tall, too. I wanna grow up like her.”
Gaon said it while watching Anna stretch intently.
Anna’s face lit up like the sun.
“Really? See, our princess has good taste. Don’t worry, Gaon—you’ll grow up way prettier than me.”
“Really? Me?”
“Of course. Auntie can tell just by looking.”
“I hope so…”
Gaon mumbled it like a wish, lips pursed.
“But is Auntie really that pretty?”
“Yup! The best!”
“Really? For real?”
“Ugh, cut it out already, sis. That’s a serious condition. Get her a mirror or something, for real.”
Hyun-soo finally butted in, unable to stand it.
Gaon’s palm struck again without mercy.
“Don’t bully Auntie!”
“Ow! Shit, seriously! Hey, that actually hurts!”
“Nyah-nyah!”
Gaon stuck out her tongue, monkey-style.
She must’ve always been that bright.
Or even brighter around her parents.
Youngman clicked his tongue at the sight of her.
Zombies at the age when she should’ve been spoiled rotten and lost in princess games…
Jaejeong, standing beside him, eyed Beom-sik.
The man had become a completely different person.
For starters, he’d quit smoking cold turkey.
Ever since Gaon whined about the smell, he hadn’t so much as glanced at a cigarette.
Anyone could see Beom-sik doted on her fiercely.
Watching him, Jaejeong thought: the more you peeled back this guy’s layers, the more onion he became.
Astonishing new sides kept emerging, no matter how deep you went.
Still, Gaon only really talked to Beom-sik, Hyun-soo, and Anna—same as always.
Everyone had adapted to it by now; it was just how things were.
As Jaejeong turned his gaze to the foggy haze, Youngman spoke up.
“This fog… it reminds me of that day.”
“What day?”
Jaejeong stretched again as he replied.
“You know. The warehouse.”
“Oh…”
Jaejeong dredged up the memory from before they’d formed the rescue team.
It had been just like today—thick fog blanketing everything.
The moment they thought they’d cracked the code, the production manager had appeared out of nowhere, grabbing them and shooing them off the site.
He hadn’t forgotten, but he had no intention of going back.
Yet Youngman’s eyes were reigniting his curiosity.
“What do you think?”
“Eh, seems risky. Things are good right now—no real clues to justify poking around some random warehouse.”
“My hunch that the doctor confessed something big to you still stands. If it was truly off-limits, he wouldn’t have mentioned it. That’s human nature. Why would we barge into a spot guarded like Fort Knox by soldiers? Bringing it up first is the suspicious part. Unless it’s somewhere anyone can wander into.”
Youngman gestured emphatically, full of zeal.
But Jaejeong’s response stayed lukewarm.
“Was it like that?”
“Heh, time’s blurring your memory, eh? You thought it was weird too, back then. Anyway, if it bothers you, we skip it.”
“Why the sudden obsession with the warehouse?”
Jaejeong asked, puzzled.
“You started it. And if it turns out to be nothing, isn’t that a relief? We can just say curiosity got the better of us.”
“And if it is something big?”
“Then… we rethink things then.”
Youngman shrugged.
Jaejeong couldn’t help a chuckle at his casual, third-party tone.
“Telling us not to go could just put us in a bad spot. It’s not just the two of us anymore. Gaon’s here too.”
“Fair point. But what you see as pointless, I see differently. If it’s a major secret, it could affect us directly later. This place is small, packed with people—not the wide-open Republic of Korea. For the kid’s sake, we should know. No ulterior motives.”
“Hm…”
Youngman had a point.
Truth was, Jaejeong had no idea how deep Youngman’s thoughts ran.
Listening to him, it sounded like some earth-shattering secret that could doom them all.
But…
Was that likely?
In a safe zone where everyone’s safety was everyone’s survival?
Jaejeong doubted it.
Even if there was something to hide, it was probably just the doctor’s personal baggage—nothing to do with the group.
Even in the worst-case movie scenario—say, he’d murdered someone and stashed the body—it didn’t add up.
One missing pair of hands in a labor shortage? No way.
Not unless the doctor was slacking off.
But he worked harder than anyone—for the safe zone.
“Let’s get moving for now.”
“Aye.”
Jaejeong and Youngman set off along their usual route.
The fog was so dense, though, he questioned if they were even on track.
It had rolled in before, but never this bad.
The tower’s less than a hundred meters away, and it’s gone…
Jaejeong scanned carefully, mindful of the risks.
“Sir! Good work, sirs!”
Even in this soup, soldiers held their posts.
Only after passing two did they realize they’d reached the production zone.
“Hey, thanks.”
Waving as they entered, Jaejeong and Youngman headed into the apartment complex.
The path between the vegetable plots felt strangely atmospheric.
Fuzzy apartments dotted the mist-shrouded view, soil heavy with moisture in the beds.
Like a dreamscape.
“Got a certain charm to it, this.”
“Yeah, kinda does.”
Youngman fiddled with his beard as he spoke; Jaejeong nodded.
Just then, a familiar voice cut through.
“Well, if it isn’t the patrols! Out keeping the peace in this foul weather—admirable as always!”
A voice he’d never forget, even on his deathbed.
They knew it was the Production Manager before even turning.
“Yeah, it’s the job. You look busy yourself.”
“Always. Days like this, with visibility shot, I’ve gotta watch these veggies extra close. Miss a day, and who knows—they might just up and die on me.”
Youngman cut in as the manager prattled.
“Standing here in this thick fog, the three of us… feels just like that day.”
“Pardon? What day?”
The manager blinked like a fish, clueless.
Jaejeong couldn’t fathom why Youngman would bring it up.
Why poke the bear? Just slink by quietly.
Even admitting they’d tried the warehouse could embarrass them both.
“Never mind, my mistake. Eaten yet?”
“Oh, yes—never miss a meal.”
After some idle chit-chat, the manager left. Jaejeong shot Youngman a sigh-laced look.
“Why keep doing that?”
“Just testing the waters. Gotta figure out what makes that guy tick. Can’t read him at all.”
“It’s not doing us any favors. Please.”
“Got it.”
Youngman pursed his lips and shrugged—his go-to when cornered.
After that, nothing notable.
Standard greetings with production zone residents, a sweep of the boundary zone, and the day wrapped.
Nearly twenty-four hours gone.
Normally, golden sunset would dye everything yellow by now—but the fog blocked even sunlight.
Faces pinched from straining all day, they hurried back to barracks, exhaustion doubled.
As they passed the production zone, a snippet snagged their heels.
Two soldiers swapping shifts, chatting away.
Not far off, but the fog hid Jaejeong and Youngman completely.
They were deep in it.
The lead Jaejeong halted, glancing back.
Infected People