It Felt Like Cleaning Up a Murder Scene

After dealing with the cheating bastard, the first thing I did was throw the body out the window.

Damn, this is heavy.

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I managed to drape the corpse over the windowsill. For a woman, she was surprisingly heavy. Guess the human body weighs more than you'd think.

I grabbed her legs and shoved hard, flipping her over. A wet thud followed. Not a pleasant sound.

"Hoo."

I tossed the guy's body out the window too. Then I stripped the bedsheets and wiped the blood off the floor and walls.

It felt exactly like cleaning up a murder scene.

Well, that's not wrong.

Of course, to really settle that, you'd have to ask the philosophical question of whether zombies count as human or monster.

I was firmly in the latter camp. That's why I smashed their heads without a second thought, right?

"Wonder if I can still use this."

There were bloodstains on the mattress, but if I covered it with sheets and a blanket, it'd be mostly fine. Of course, the whole thing would feel too gross to use for long—but this wasn't the time to be picky about cold leftovers versus a hot meal.

I stuck a cigarette between my lips. Leaning against the wall by the window, I looked down at the street. Things were a little better than earlier.

Meaning nobody was making a racket anymore. Blood was splattered in every direction, and people were shambling along.

Zombies, huh.

Necks half-severed with heads dangling, abdomens completely eaten out, or missing a leg entirely—yet they kept moving like nothing was wrong.

No matter how you looked at it, it wasn't normal. The only things that walked around like that were zombies.

I was actually pretty glad to see them.

After all, dealing with monsters was worse than dealing with fellow humans—especially zombies I'd seen plenty of in fiction.

No way I'm getting home.

From here to my place was about thirty minutes by subway. In other words, not a walkable distance by any means.

And I couldn't take the subway or bus now. A car would work, but in situations like this ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the roads were usually a mess too.

So for the time being, I'd have to stay at the house of the girlfriend I'd just killed.

First, let's see what's here.

I flicked the spent cigarette outside and closed the window.

I didn't know what was in the kitchen, but there probably wasn't much food. Whenever I visited her studio apartment, we always ordered delivery—she'd never cooked for me once.

"Figures."

Opening the cupboard revealed a few dishes and some canned goods. Just three individual packs of ramen.

Curious about the fridge, I opened it: a water bottle, zero-calorie cola, and the rest filled with soju. The silver lining was a bit of jam and bread.

The freezer's a bit better.

There were quite a few frozen foods I could heat in the air fryer.

Digging through the rest of the place, I found three boxes of energy bars with twelve packs each, plus two cartons of cigarettes.

"That bitch?"

Finding cigarettes under the bed threw me. Every time I smoked, she'd bitch about the smell.

And yet she was smoking herself. Even now, the thought made me call her a bitch. Of course, I forgave her generously.

I'd already smashed her, after all.

Still looks pretty good, all things considered.

I stuffed everything from the small one-room into the cupboard, roughly organized, then pulled a pizza from the freezer. Into the air fryer at two hundred degrees for seven minutes.

Tick-tock—

Wonder how things are going out there.

I sat on the edge of the bed and pulled out my phone. Logging into a community I occasionally visited, there were quite a few posts on the popular board.

Most of the posts were people filming infected and talking about them. Some had already figured out they were zombies, just like I'd guessed.

Honestly, not knowing would make you an idiot.

One of the popular posts was sharing a streamer's broadcast. Out of curiosity I clicked in and joined the viewers.

A massive intersection.

The six-lane road was painted bright red like someone had dumped buckets of paint. The street was packed with stopped cars, a few of them smashed into trees or building entrances. Black dots scurrying around were probably zombies.

"W-what am I supposed to do? I-I came to Busan for a hotel staycation and now I'm trapped like this…! Seriously, wh-what do I do!"

The camera spun and a woman's face filled the screen. Messy hair, tears and snot streaming down—chat exploded with "lmao" and "haha."

The streamer looked a little ridiculous, sure, but laughing at her in a situation like this? I wasn't exactly normal myself, but the viewers seemed just as far gone.

Of course, not everyone was like that. Plenty still thought it wasn't real. Whether they hadn't grasped how serious it was or were just denying reality—only they knew.

"I-it's not an ad! It's real! When I first saw the street like that I thought maybe they were filming a movie, but when I stepped into the hallway they came running and—"

—Screeeeech

While she was babbling, a faint noise cut through. The streamer shot to her feet and pointed the camera outside again.

Damn professional work ethic.

One car racing through the ruined Busan streets. Black dots drawn by the noise swarmed toward it in a mass.

The car looked ready to plow straight through the zombies blocking the road and charged the pack head-on.

At first it punched through with real momentum—but only for a moment. It gradually slowed, then stopped dead in the middle of the street.

"Uh-uh-uh…"

Black dots swarmed the car. Someone climbed out and fought desperately to clear a path, but that was as far as it went.

Aaaaaaaagh!!!

A raw, desperate scream carried all the way to the streamer's hotel room. Another splash of red paint hit the road.

"Hic, uh-hic… W-what do I do now? What am I supposed to do!"

The woman was back on the bed, sobbing and babbling. You'd think people would feel some pity, but the chat stayed ice-cold.

The whole thing was such a shitshow I clicked the stream off. Perfect timing—the pizza was done.

"Looks good."

The rich, salty smell of cheese and the faint scent of dough filled the room. Strong enough to wipe out the lingering blood and cigarette smoke in one go.

"Mm."

I tore off a slice and bit in. Sweet bulgogi sauce hit first, then the meat. After that came the bright tang of tomato and the rich cheese. Completely satisfying.

Pizza in one hand, pen in the other.

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I'd planned to organize everything I'd learned so far. It seemed like it would help a lot.

I'd made a big deal of writing it down, but I hadn't actually figured out much.

That's about it.

I shoved more pizza in my mouth and tapped the table. Anything else worth writing down?

"Ah."

I finished that and grabbed another sheet. I still didn't know how I should act going forward, but at least writing down what needed doing right now and actually doing it would be better.

First, stockpile as much water as possible and charge every electronic device.

When things like this happen, water and power always get cut. I had to prepare for that. And once things settled a bit, I'd probably need to move somewhere else.

Clothes and underwear too—I'll need to find those separately.

There was a department store about a twenty-minute walk away. Whether going there was a good idea was another question.

Department stores meant crowds. Which meant there could be just as many zombies.

I'll just keep it as an idea for now. I can always grab stuff from other houses anyway.

I wasn't thrilled about it, but it was still better than never changing clothes at all.

I needed a weapon too. Right now the only usable thing was the hammer sitting on the bathroom floor. I could tape a kitchen knife to a long stick and use it as a spear.

Doesn't seem like it'd do much against zombies though.

At best I'd be wrapping it with tape. That probably wouldn't hold up well.

So for the time being I was stuck using the hammer. The short reach made me nervous, but if I put on gloves and geared up properly, the risk of getting bitten would drop a little.

I finished the whole pizza. I wasn't usually a big eater, but today I could put it away.

I did burn a lot of energy earlier.

Part of me wanted to just collapse on the bed and rest, but I couldn't waste precious time like that.

There was a convenience store out front.

I needed to grab as much food as possible before someone else cleaned it out. The place I was in didn't have much stock left.

I dug through the drawers, forced on a pair of small gloves, and pulled a parka from the closet. It was ridiculously tight and uncomfortable, but after I tore the armpits a little I could move well enough.

I'd done everything I could.

Hammer in my right hand, I stood in front of the front door. My heart was hammering like crazy.

Was this tension? Or excitement? Even I didn't know yet. But if I made it back here in one piece, I'd figure it out then.

Creeeak—