The Man Who Took the Elevator
Kraaak! Kueeek!
The infected let out horrific shrieks as they crammed into the building one after another.
But despite their growing numbers, nothing really changed.
None of them climbed the stairs, and no bizarre cries echoed up from the floor right below.
The patience of the two men, who had been hiding in tense silence, was starting to wear thin.
"What the hell's going on?"
Jaejeong peered out the window with an irritated voice.
Outside looked no different from before.
The infected kept swarming in, still causing a racket.
"Let's go check it out ourselves. We can see plenty from the stairwell."
Grunting with effort, they shoved the fridge aside and stepped into the hallway.
'Maybe something on the second or third floor is blocking their way?'
For instance, the ceiling on the lower floors could have collapsed from the blast shockwave.
To confirm with their own eyes, the two crept cautiously toward the stairs.
The hallway was dead silent, like a tomb.
It had been just as quiet when Jaejeong dropped the door handle earlier.
Knowing from experience that infected could appear at any moment made their feet drag.
Right then, Jaejeong flinched and whipped around.
A scrap of paper, caught by the wind, tumbled across the floor.
Jaejeong steadied his pounding heart and wiped the sweat from his brow.
To react instantly if they showed up, he needed to stay sharp.
The two scanned their surroundings carefully.
Almost every window in the hallway was shattered.
'Did they jump out following the blast debris?' he wondered.
It was entirely plausible.
Otherwise, how could the ones that had been noisily roaming the halls just vanish?
Even the metal door to the stairs was closed.
Reaching the landing, they peered down through the gaps in the handrails.
The first floor was packed with even more infected, writhing like maggots.
But something was off.
"Why are they doing that?"
Jaejeong frowned.
The infected had surged right up to the elevators but were tangled and rolling around in front of the stairs, making no attempt to climb.
As if an invisible wall blocked the steps.
"No way..."
"What?"
Beom-sik asked Jaejeong, who was tilting his head.
"Looks like they don't know how to use stairs."
"Yeah, kinda seems that way. Just base instincts left, no real brains?"
"Could be."
As Jaejeong said, the infected didn't know how to climb stairs.
Even as more poured in from outside, not one set foot on the steps.
If one tripped and fell, others would trample over it and stand, repeating the process.
Tripping, trampling, standing—eventually, they'd make it to the roof that way.
"No immediate danger, then."
"For now. But if we leave 'em like that, they'll get up here eventually."
Jaejeong's worry was time.
No telling how long they'd be stuck here or when they'd have to leave.
They needed to divert the infected's attention somehow.
Fewer of them around would make escape easier later.
Beom-sik asked, "Got a plan?"
Jaejeong rubbed his chin.
"First, hit the restaurant and fill our stomachs. Rest a bit, sun'll be up soon. Priority is recharging till then—sleep, whatever."
"Like we can sleep."
Beom-sik grumbled but followed.
But as Jaejeong entered the restaurant, he froze.
Beom-sik, trailing behind, bumped into him and staggered.
Jaejeong stared silently into the restaurant.
Beom-sik glanced puzzled in the same direction but saw nothing in the dimness.
"...What?"
Frustrated, Beom-sik shoved past Jaejeong into the restaurant—and came face-to-face with a figure in the kitchen.
Both Jaejeong and Beom-sik recognized him instantly.
It was the middle-aged man they'd spotted from the rooftop.
His red cap was gone, leaving his tousled white curly hair glinting in the faint light seeping from outside.
"People?"
A low, resonant voice filled the quiet kitchen.
Like an opera singer—soft but booming.
"As you can see, for now."
Jaejeong spread his arms in reply.
"Pleased to meet you. Lights were out, figured no survivors. Heard voices, so I snuck in—understand, do you not? This ain't home for you either."
"This old man's no ordinary guy."
Beom-sik doused the friendly vibe and stepped forward.
Maybe because of that.
The man in the shadows stepped into the faint light.
Short compared to Jaejeong and Beom-sik, but sturdy-built, with a face etched by a rough life.
His white beard covering half his face, thick eyebrows, and heavy double eyelids looked more Western than Eastern.
Probably mixed heritage in the family.
Or long time abroad.
"Young man knows words but not manners, it seems."
Was it imagination, or did the man's smiling eyes flash with killing intent?
He strode right up to Beom-sik's face.
But Beom-sik didn't flinch.
He was sizing the man up and down.
If Beom-sik wasn't mistaken, this wasn't an ordinary person.
Someone not to tangle with lightly.
The more survival-tuned or experienced in shitstorms, the sharper danger sense gets.
An innate instinct in all life, honed further by experience.
Like Beom-sik now.
"Enough."
Jaejeong wedged between them.
His massive bulk made fighting over him impossible.
Like a wall sprouting up.
"This ain't about you, so step aside. Age makes you sensitive to trifles. Like some young punk acting rude. That sort. Older you get, more inferiority about time passed, you know."
The man chided, but Jaejeong held firm.
'Wait, why are they even fighting?'
Jaejeong wanted to stop them, but tension lingered.
Scratching his forehead in annoyance, Jaejeong mediated again.
"Cut it out. Not the time. Yeah, this guy's rude as hell. But we ain't fighting among ourselves now, right? Am I wrong?"
The man looked up at Jaejeong with narrowed eyes.
Then raised both hands as if conceding and backed off.
"Right. Big fella, you're correct. Not the time for us to scrap. And even if I'm spry, you'd fold me in half."
"Hear that? Quit screwing around and sit."
Only then did Beom-sik sit.
Jaejeong couldn't fathom Beom-sik obeying so meekly.
Why react so hard to casual words?
Beom-sik had just meant the old man was impressive for his age.
A compliment, really.
No one would see it that way.
Beom-sik, who never bowed outside gang life.
Said what he thought, no filter.
So maybe.
He couldn't grasp why the mood soured.
Far from normal thinking.
The man eyed the seated Beom-sik curiously.
"Your name, young man?"
"Introduce yourself first before asking others'. Proper order."
Beom-sik said flatly, no malice on his face.
Weirder for the lack of ill intent.
"True enough. Kang Youngman."
"Lee Beom-sik."
Confirming Beom-sik's name, Youngman turned to Jaejeong.
"Oh, me? Jaejeong. Han Jaejeong."
"Not friends, I take it..."
Youngman muttered, stroking his chin.
"Eh, friends if you say so... Complicated."
Beom-sik paused mid-dismissive wave at Jaejeong's answer.
"I see. Introductions done—mind sharing plans? No, wait, Beom-sik might lunge if I ask first. I'll go."
"Your speech is tough to get used to."
Jaejeong slipped in lightly.
"Everyone says so. I run an auto shop nearby. Friend opened a gun shop ahead, came visiting—got caught in this mess. No real plan. Past this building, my shop's on the hilltop, walled all around. Perfect base now."
"Then why hide in our restaurant?"
Beom-sik asked.
"Not hiding. Throat dry, just resting. Knew someone who worked kitchen here."
"How'd you get up? Infected swarming below."
Jaejeong recalled the horde.
Even a one-man army couldn't fight that many.
Unless magic.
"Oh, that? Took underground parking elevator up."
Jaejeong and Beom-sik exchanged incredulous looks.
They'd deemed elevators the riskiest—single door, stops if power cuts. Avoid in disasters.
Yet safe to the fifth floor.
Magic, maybe.
As Youngman's tale ended, Jaejeong briefly explained their path here.
Listening intently, Youngman clapped and bellowed a laugh.
"Ha! I slighted my lifesavers! Hahaha!"
So loud Jaejeong checked the hall for infected.
"What? Lifesavers?"
"Think: without you clearing the fifth-floor ones somehow, elevator would've dumped me into a corpse pile. Noise at each floor—they'd swarm like dogs. No ordinary bond. Thanks."
The sudden gratitude left them awkward.
No clue how to respond.
They hadn't cleared infected—just explosion, and hallway ones vanished.
Beom-sik asked suspiciously, "But if you came after zombies cleared, post-power cut—how'd the elevator work?"
"...Yeah?"
Jaejeong echoed.
"Modern elevators switch to emergency power. Luxe building like this? Standard."
Youngman hefted his machete, crusted with dried blood.
"You—Jaejeong, right? What's next? Not staying?"
"Infected packed the first floor—no way out. But you took elevator, so... down that way?"
"After? Where to?"
"Why tell you?"
Beom-sik cut in, baffled.
Too many questions for strangers.
"If my eyes don't lie, you got nowhere. No home to go back to. Right?"
"Nah, we got homes. Mine, even if solo. Gotta go there. Yeah? You too?"
Jaejeong sought agreement.
They weren't homeless wrecks.
But Beom-sik still eyed Youngman.
"So you're saying help you get home safe. Right? Guessing. Why beat around?"
"Hm..."
Youngman stroked his beard, smiling.
"Underestimated you. No ordinary. Yes. Trying to convince you to come along. Better for you too. Safer spot to regroup."
Jaejeong and Beom-sik exchanged glances.
"If government's rescuing, we hunker down. My shop's ideal. Your call. Got family waiting—faster the better. Let me know."
Finished, Youngman stepped out, giving them space to talk.