Whispers from the Warehouse
“Nah, it's real. I swear I heard it.”
“Come on, say something that makes sense. I was on warehouse guard duty before you, so why didn't I hear shit?”
The sergeant shot back, brushing off the corporal's words.
“Well, sometimes you don't hear it depending on the situation. And it's not just me who heard it.”
“Who else?”
“A few people.”
“So who exactly?”
The corporal started to name names but swallowed them back, smacking his lips instead.
“Does it matter who? The point is, I heard it. A human voice.”
At the corporal's final words, Jaejeong halted and turned around.
“A ghost? What'd it say?”
“No, it was definitely a person.”
“Lately, there's all sorts of rumors about ghosts there.”
“Ghosts don't exist in this world...”
As the two soldiers walked off toward the warehouse, their voices faded naturally into the fog.
A human voice.
Jaejeong and Youngman's eyes met at the same instant.
If the soldiers were telling the truth, this was a serious issue.
They'd never heard or been informed that the safe zone was holding people captive.
Jaejeong asked, “Are they rounding up problematic people and stashing them there?”
“If so, they'd have no reason to hide it from the start. They'd slap a big 'PRISON' sign on it and threaten to toss in anyone who steps out of line.”
Youngman had a point.
They could no longer stand by as mere observers.
This had become something they couldn't ignore.
Not after overhearing those soldiers.
Back at the barracks, the two men handled their meal and sank into thought.
Or more precisely, Jaejeong was lost in deep contemplation.
“What weighs on your mind so heavily?”
“At first, I thought hearing voices meant we had to check it out right away. But what if there's a good reason for it? We might be making a mistake. Like, what if they're criminals or something.”
“Then at the very least, they'd have told you. Aren't you the one in charge of security? If it was legitimate, they wouldn't hide it. I'm dreadfully curious myself—what kind of people are they locking away that they keep trying to conceal it? If this infringes on our rights in any way, we must confirm it, mustn't we? I didn't come here alone. My daughter is in that tower.”
Rights...
Jaejeong scanned their surroundings.
The fog remained thick.
Who knew when conditions like this would align again.
His hesitation stemmed from the fact that one wrong choice could seal the fate of their entire group.
But if the warehouse truly held people—and they were imprisoned for reasons he didn't want to imagine...
They had to reveal the truth.
“Let's go.”
“Indeed, now we're speaking the same language.”
The two passed the checkpoint between zones and entered the production area.
With the sun set, everyone had returned home, leaving the fields deserted.
Instinctively, they scanned for the Production Manager.
If he was lurking nearby, things could get messy in all sorts of ways.
The fog made it hard to be sure, but he didn't seem to be around.
They skirted the production zone and approached the warehouse along the downhill path as before.
Lights glowed at each corner of the warehouse.
Fortunately, they illuminated outward, making the path the two took appear even darker.
They found the torn fence from their previous visit.
It was still ripped open—just enough space for one person to crouch and squeeze through.
Jaejeong went first, hunching as low as possible.
His shoulders got stuck midway, forcing Youngman to yank the edges apart with all his might.
Dim human shapes appeared in the distance.
Soldiers standing guard at the entrance to the warehouse clearing.
They hadn't noticed the two had reached right behind the building.
Keeping low, they crept silently to the lock.
The password came back easily.
Every warehouse shared the same three digits, differing only in the first number.
It was still the same.
Both padlocks matched in the last three digits, differing only in the first: 2 and 4.
So the unlocking number had to be 3.
Click!
A soft unlocking sound echoed.
But on closer inspection, the steel door's hinges were heavily rusted and worn.
One wrong pull, and that massive door would scream in protest.
That's when it happened.
As Jaejeong removed the padlock, he quickly relocked it and ducked into the shadows with Youngman.
Thud, thud, thud.
The footsteps' owner passed the warehouse and came right up to where they hid.
He rummaged in his clothes, then a stream of water poured out.
One of the guarding soldiers had come to take a piss.
Jaejeong and Youngman, concealed behind a tarp-covered pile, swallowed dryly.
Luckily, it was a dark spot with no light, so even from inches away, the soldier didn't notice them.
Thud, thud, thud.
Once the soldier zipped up and walked off, they waited until the footsteps fully faded before moving.
Jaejeong grabbed the padlock again and glanced at Youngman, who nodded.
Now was the moment of truth.
What was inside.
Real people?
Or ghosts.
Click!
He slowly removed the padlock.
All that remained was opening the door.
* * *
“Where you headed, bro?”
The Youngest asked as First headed toward the riverside.
“Just gonna take a walk. How's your face?”
“It's fine, bro. A civilian's fist can't do shit to me, no matter how hard they swing.”
The Youngest touched his swollen eye and grinned.
“Tch, all talk. Rest up.”
“Sure thing. Take care.”
Leaving the deeply bowing Youngest behind, First walked to the riverside park.
Spotting a bench chained to a tree, the day's events flooded back.
Trading blows with civilians bruised his pride, but in a place like this, there was no room for such concerns.
In a world of scant survivors, one step back carried massive implications.
He couldn't yield.
Even Beom-sik would have handled it the same.
Probably turned them all to pulp.
Suddenly, he missed Beom-sik.
The memory was vivid: him apologizing to his brothers for the first time, saying he had to look after the kid.
A chuckle escaped.
No matter when death came, meeting Beom-sik had been a revolution in First's life.
'We can never go back to how things were.'
The days rampaging across Korea in his wake.
Unforgettable memories.
Especially for First, Beom-sik was more than a lord to serve—he was everything.
Others didn't know.
The charisma and power Beom-sik displayed.
Once witnessed, no one could refuse him.
Could not help but submit.
But in this fenced-in pen, that side was invisible.
His true self.
A world ruled solely by strength, the law of the jungle.
In the darkness like vast plains or jungles, Beom-sik shone as a single light.
A light drawing all shadows into one.
“Gah! Hah!”
Frustrated, he dunked his face in the faucet and splashed water.
'Guess I'll never see that side again.'
Reminiscing brought a wistful smile.
Still, in this apocalypse, Beom-sik surviving and returning was a blessing.
But these sudden thoughts choked him.
'How long do I have to live like this?'
Something hot writhed and surged in his chest.
He wasn't used to a shackled life.
Nor to restrictions.
He stripped off his T-shirt and pants, draping them over the bench edge.
Normally he'd hold back, but in this thick fog, no eyes mattered.
In just his underwear, he waded into the icy water.
A bone-chilling cold wrapped his legs, rising to his waist and chest.
First was a strong swimmer.
Growing up with his father at Incheon's harbor, water was family to him.
He dove under adeptly, splashing around.
The once-frigid water warmed to his body temp as he reached depths where his feet couldn't touch.
Around him, nothing but river and himself.
Lights from the safe zone and Gangbuk's buildings pierced the fog faintly.
The tightness in his chest began to loosen.
He wanted more, but it was time to climb out, dry off, and change.
He swam back toward the lights.
Gangbuk's glow faded into the mist.
His feet hit bottom; slimy weeds slithered against his skin.
Out of the water, he realized he couldn't spot the bench in the fog.
He paused searching, turned to gaze at the river.
Eerie, yet atmospheric.
Eyes closed, he inhaled deeply, savoring the river breeze.
No salty sea tang he'd known all his life, but fresh air filled his lungs.
Splash! Splash!
“...?”
The water-cutting sound snapped his eyes open.
He scanned frantically.
Nothing through the fog.
But he hadn't imagined it.
Definitely something slicing the current.
“Who's there?”
Unease gripped his body.
First focused his senses instinctively.
'Those bastards from earlier?'
Right then.
Sudden total blackness engulfed everything.
In fog blocking even moonlight, reliant on faint lights, First lost all vision.
'What? Power outage?'
Splash! Splash! Splash!
The water sounds intensified.
He spun toward them, but cold pierced his side.
Stab!
“Wha— mff! Mff!”
A hand clamped his mouth; First thrashed with desperate fury.
But the sharp blade in his side buckled his legs.
Splash! Splash! Splash!
He clawed at the attacker behind, who held firm over his mouth—a brutal struggle ensued, followed by two stabs to his thigh.
His balance tipped forward; he plunged face-first into the water.
Unable to breathe, submerged, panic surged madly.
The wounds were irrelevant now.
This way, he'd drown for sure.
He had to live.
Escape somehow.
He flailed with all his strength.
But lungs burned tighter.
Seizure-like resistance followed.
Sounds like kids splashing echoed.
The hand pressing his head now gripped his hair.
Unable to fight it, First died with eyes open.
His whites bulged red with burst vessels; bloody tears streamed from ruptured eyes, swimming in the water.
His screaming mouth spewed white bubbles repeatedly.
Thus, First went still forever.
* * *
'Power outage?'
About to pull the door, Jaejeong whipped around—but saw nothing.
Perfect darkness crushed them, moonlight unable to penetrate.
Seemed the whole Yeouido was blacked out.
“Don't.”
Hearing a pocket rummage, Jaejeong grabbed Youngman's arm in the dark.
“Turning on a flashlight now exposes us.”
“The fog should cover it.”
“No—listen. Soldiers are too close.”
Only then did Youngman hear the two soldiers murmuring not far off.
“Then let's open and go in. We can turn it on inside.”
As Youngman gripped the steel door, Jaejeong stopped him again.
“What now?”
“Listen.”
They strained their ears: the soldiers' conversation about voices from the warehouse.
One threatened to check if it was ghosts or people.
Any second, flashlights and a charge.
“Damn it...”
Youngman bit his lower lip hard in the darkness.
What the hell was this sudden blackout?
Confirming the warehouse had become this ridiculously hard...
It was absurd.
Click!
Jaejeong relocked it and stood still; slowly, pupils adjusted, granting faint vision.
Just enough to make out Youngman's face outline ahead.
They retreated from the warehouse, relying solely on narrow sight and senses.
Infected People