Awakening (5)

Hanmaum Apartment, Unit 1504.

The ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠screen shifted somewhere else this time — a place deeply familiar to me.

It began showing my own bed from directly above. The smartphone lying beside my head kept spitting out its wailing ringtone.

After that message, the disaster alerts that had been ringing furiously began to taper off, and with that short final message, my phone screen turned pitch black and never lit up again.

More time slipped past after that.

Thud— Thud— Thud—

The sudden pounding made me frown in my sleep, and slowly, my eyes opened.

"…Oh."

Having just watched that long footage in front of the refrigerator of Unit 1504, I had no choice but to reconsider everything.

If the footage the System had shown me wasn't a lie— no, fuck it, there was no way that was a lie. How could something that real be fake?

The situation was far worse than I'd imagined. Especially that last video — it still hadn't left my mind.

That muscle-bound bastard had torn a tank in half with one swing. Even now, pulling off a performance like that was utterly beyond me.

A mutant.

Yeah, fucking right — you think an apocalypse full of awakened zombies wouldn't have mutants? There was no way that thing was the only one of its kind, either. All sorts of god-awful variants were probably busy driving humanity to extinction as we spoke.

The tank — the core of the army's combat power — hadn't even been able to resist; it was literally torn apart. And who's to say there aren't zombies out there that could bring down a bomber next?

Smack— smack—

I slapped both my cheeks a few times with my hands.

Christ, there I was, acting like I'd become the apex predator of the whole food chain just because I'd learned one skill. In truth, I'd just been banking on the government and law enforcement being deader than not, and lost my drive. I had to admit it — killing a few zombies had made me a little complacent.

But why had the System shown me those videos in the first place? It had clearly held back from anything that would upset the balance — showing me that mutants existed was undeniably a considerable privilege for me. From here on, my recklessness would drop considerably.

[…….]

The System had gone back to its stubborn silence, so I didn't bother asking. It obviously wasn't going to answer.

"Anyway, what's that bastard's name? Things like that are supposed to have cool names, like 'Tank' or 'Growler,' aren't they?"

Abnormally massive fists, a torso that was nothing but muscle. Mutants like that were supposed to come with a proper English designation to look the part. I still remember my heart dropping to the floor when some little shit chucked a rock at me back in grade school.

'Is that thing also weak to Molotov cocktails?'

"Goddammit, is this that RPG 'joy of discovery' shit? No wonder RPGs are a dying genre. Won't tell you a goddamn thing. Filthy bastard. Tck!"

I spat on the floor.

"Ah, forget it! I'm gonna get back to farming."

I closed the door of Unit 1504, already stripped bare of everything I needed and hauled off to the shelter. At least I'd had the good sense to grab kitchen knives in various sizes from the pantry.

Then I opened the door of the neighboring Unit 1503 the same way as before. From there, it was a continuation of tedious looting.

Every home I entered, I'd make noise on purpose to check for zombies, then search the kitchen, the balcony, and the like for food and anything useful. Flashlights, shampoo, conditioner, soap — anything that seemed even remotely necessary went straight into my inventory.

Apparently rescue teams had operated in Incheon too, because nearly every apartment was ransacked in exactly the same fashion as 1504.

…Then why the fuck didn't they wake me up? Why'd they leave me behind?

Obviously, in a situation like this, the crazy one would be the guy opening doors to check if anyone was alive inside. Thinking about it, though, it was a blessing in disguise — otherwise I'd have had to submit to military control too.

"Oh, Spam!"

Not every household was identical to 1504, though. There was a decent haul of things left behind — Spam, ramyeon, and the like that hadn't been grabbed in time. All of it went neatly into my inventory, and as the variety of my stockpile grew, so did my peace of mind.

"Can I resell this stuff, by any chance?"

"…No."

So reselling was straight-up off the table. Or I could do what people always did in zombie movies — grow my own food.

"…Things don't rot in the inventory, right?"

"Phew, that's a relief."

Still, this was work too. Going into one home after another was a chore and a half. Just as the looting was starting to bore me, I heard a faint noise.

I quietly pressed my ear against the front door of Unit 501, the next one I'd been about to search.

—Keeeeeee…

'A zombie.'

My mana was nearly fully recovered, the telescoping baton was in my hand, and the kitchen knife hovered comfortably above my head. On top of that, I had spare knives neatly organized in my inventory. Unless there'd been an orgy in that apartment, there could be no more than four zombies inside — and that was the most generous assumption. The zombie noises reaching my ears were, so far, exactly one.

Click—

I quietly unlocked the front door with telekinesis, then kicked the shoe cabinet hard.

KRAK—

"FBI! OPEN UP!!!"

Along with the splintering collapse of the shoe cabinet, my shout echoed through the apartment.

Fuck, I'd always wanted to do that.

"Kieeeeeeeek!"

A shriek rang out, followed in quick succession by the sound of something breaking. Judging by it, the zombie bastard seemed to be trapped somewhere.

"…He so loved the world… that He gave… salvation…"

At the whispering voice, my jaunty footsteps stopped dead.

It was Korean. Not the howling of shrieking zombies — actual human speech.

Kieeeeek

Slam— slam— slam—

I focused telekinesis on the knife floating above my head and stepped into the living room. Whatever came flying out from wherever, it would be launched right back like a spear.

"The Heavenly God… intends… to judge… His only Son…"

It was a bizarre sight.

A blackout curtain divided the living room from the balcony. Sunlight pierced through the center portion the curtain couldn't fully cover, and dust drifted lazily along that beam of light. Tracing the light further, it fell on a small room on the left side of the living room — a room thoroughly barricaded with a dining table and chairs. From inside, the zombie's howling kept thundering on.

And kneeling in prayer before that room was a middle-aged woman.

"Gh— ghhk!"

I concentrated my telekinesis and dragged the woman toward me — just far enough for a clear identification. The first thing I noticed was that pulling her with telekinesis was far easier than with the zombies. One look at her gaunt, skeletal face told me why. This woman… hadn't eaten anything at all.

"The Heavenly God so loved the world that He gave His only Son, that whoever believes in Him shall have eternal life. The Heavenly God did not send His sons and daughters into the world to judge the world, but that the world might be saved through them. The Heavenly God—"

"……What?"

I momentarily forgot how to respond. Did she not realize her neck was currently being crushed by psychic power? The Heavenly God? Salvation? I knew God, I knew Buddha, I knew Allah… but the Heavenly God?

"…A cult?"

"Have you come from the Sanctuary?"

"…I'm sorry, what?"

I couldn't predict where this conversation was headed. With an awkward laugh, I dragged her a little closer. She was definitely not a zombie. I could see a rosary wound around her left hand and a prayer book clutched in her right — the spine so worn from countless readings that the grime of her fingers was plainly visible.

And then, her eyes. In contrast to her emaciated frame, they were so brimming with something it bordered on eerie.

Somehow… my mood soured.

Kieeeeek!

Slam— slam—

A zombie's arm shot out through the already tattered door. Utterly indifferent to its desperate thrashing to break free, the woman simply waited for my answer.

"…And if I did come from there?"

"At last! At last You have come! Oh, You heard me! My prayers reached the Heavenly God!"

Her words fired off like a machine gun as she hugged the prayer book tight to her chest.

"Let us… let us pray together. So that my daughter's sins may be forgiven. So that she may return to being human again… Pray with me."

"…What sin?"

"What sin indeed! The sin of unbelief, of course! I always knew she'd end up like that someday! The Pastor was right! Unbelief was the greatest sin of all! But what can a mother do… I must ask forgiveness for my daughter's sins in her place."

This is driving me insane.

I flung the woman aside and fixed my gaze on the room where her daughter was trapped. The arm that had ripped through the door was groping this way and that, widening its reach. Every time the arm lurched, the table and chairs barely holding it back shuddered. The barricade was one blow away from collapsing.

"The Heavenly God so loved the world that He gave His only Son, that whoever believes in Him shall have eternal life. The Heavenly God did not send His sons and daughters into the world to judge the world, but that the world might be saved through them. The Heavenly God—"

"Kieeeeeeek!"

Flung aside as she was, the woman launched straight back into prayer. As if in response to it, the zombie began screaming, as if it hated the sound.

Shwap—

Using telekinesis, I swept the blackout curtain wide open.

Photographs of people beaming around a man in strange clothing, filling the entire apartment with crosses. Calligraphy and framed plaques inscribed with verses from the prayer book. Taking in the scene piece by piece, I opened my mouth.

"You do know what's happening outside right now, don't you?"

"Of course. All the more reason to pray."

"And you know what's happened to your daughter?"

"Of course. All the more reason to pray."

"And that once you turn like that, you can never, ever go back to being human?"

"Of course. All the more reason to—"

"'Of course. All the more reason to pray.'"

I mocked the parroted answer back at her and locked eyes with her.

SLAM— SLAM—

That strange fever began gathering blood in my groin. Those eyes. That utterly unshaking gaze — it was truly disturbing. How could anyone be like that? Hell itself had arrived. Her most precious daughter in the whole world was currently throwing her body against a door, trying to break it down to devour her own mother. If some transcendent being really did exist — if God existed — I would want to beat that god to death. Even killing it over and over wouldn't be enough. Cursing the god wouldn't come close to enough — and yet this woman was dead certain that her god would 'save' her.

I wanted it.

It wasn't lust for that decrepit old body. It was a maddening possessiveness stirred by that fanaticism.

"What if I could cure your daughter?"

"……Pardon?"

For the first time, the woman's gaze wavered.

I pulled up the shop window and searched for the vaccine.

"…Is that true?"

"It is. Obviously."

"Ohhh, how merciful! Ah, Heavenly God! Thank you, Heavenly God!"

Thanks for what? *I'm* the one giving it to you, you ungrateful bat.

"But there's a condition."

"…What is it?"

Using telekinesis, I dragged her prayer book in front of me. The woman clenched it desperately and resisted with a strangled gghk—!, but in the end, her grip broke.

Had she gone mad because her daughter turned into that? Or had she been mad all along, which was why her daughter turned?

No. The world shattering into shards wasn't this woman's fault either. It was just… the sight of her believing in someone ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠who was never coming, even in this pit of despair, aroused me beyond all reason.

"Believe in me."

"…Pardon?"

"Believe in me. Not that Heavenly God or whatever it's called that's never coming. Do that, and I'll save your daughter."

I waved the prayer book back and forth, demanding an answer, and her eyes followed it helplessly.

"What a golden opportunity, hm? Just say you believe. I'll save her right away. Oh — and say, 'Heavenly God, you son of a bitch.'"

"Sh-show me proof! Proof that you can save my daughter!"

"…What? Proof?"

Puhahahahahaha.

I couldn't hold back the laughter.

"And what proof do you have, exactly? You've been praying your heart out — where's your evidence?"

She worships a god with no proof, but believing in me requires evidence. The hollow laugh kept escaping me.

"Here's your proof."

Using telekinesis, I tore the prayer book she'd been waving around to shreds.

Riiiiip—

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

The moment she witnessed it, the woman's eyes bulged impossibly wide and she began to scream.

"Y-you demon! You devil spawn! Get out! Get out of my house riiiiight now!"

CRASH—

"Kieeeeeeeek!"

Along with her screams, the daughter finally shattered the door and lunged at the epicenter of the shrieking like she'd been launched from a catapult. Even pinned beneath her daughter, the woman's mouth never stopped raining curses down on me.

"Demon! Devil spawn! I knew you would! Demon! Demon! Demon!"

"Kieeeeeeek!"

"Your daughter doesn't want to hear this, you know."

I used telekinesis just enough to lock the daughter's head in place so she couldn't bite her mother, then asked the woman again.

"Look. Look carefully with your own eyes. Is that the daughter you were supposed to save?"

"Demon! Devil! Devil! Rot in hell!"

"In all of this, where exactly is the Heavenly God you've been searching for?"

"AAAAAAAAAH! ROT IN HEEEELL!"

"I can save her, I said? I can bring her back? Then believing in me is the only thing that makes sense, you stupid woman!"

No matter how loudly I shouted, she had already shut her ears and would only drone on about demons and devils.

Ha— What was the problem, again? This stupid bitch simply refused, to the very end, to listen to me.

Fuck— where else would you find a deal this clean-cut? Fine then. I'll send you straight to that precious Heavenly God of yours.

Prepared to release the telekinesis holding the daughter, I asked the woman one final question.

"Just curious, but… does that prayer book of yours mention anything about this happening?"

"Devil! Devil! DEEEEEVIL!"

"If your Heavenly God is so almighty, why did He make a world like this?"

"…Because the world filled up with hell because of bastards like you."

"Fuck— weirdly, that actually tracks."

Crunch— crunch—

The daughter's freed head buried itself into her mother's flesh.

Her head, diligently chewing away with wet tearing sounds, then turned toward me.

"Kieeeeeeek!"

Apparently unsatisfied with her own mother, she lunged straight at me. I pinned her body in place and checked her face.

"Hm… you should really hold a note before I snap it, though?"

Crriiick—

Once I confirmed her neck had twisted until it hung limp and she collapsed, I immediately lost interest and turned my full attention to her mother.

Just like in the footage, she rose slowly, her entire body twisting. She repeated her strangled groans, and after a moment, her head turned toward me.

"Kieeeeeeek!"

As if her days of starvation were a lie, she charged at me with terrifying speed, and I stretched out my hand and began to squeeze down hard on ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠her. The more the telekinesis-bound woman struggled, the more my arm trembled.

"Fuck, feel that hand strength. So that's why old men are obsessed with fishing."

"Kieeeeeeeeeee!"

"What? Do you remember me? You're reacting way hotter than the other zombies."

Only when I stared into her eyes — her entire body writhing just to devour me — did I finally understand, completely, that strange emotion I'd felt earlier.

…Her eyes weren't any different.

From the first zombie I'd seen to this very moment, there had been exactly one thing visible in every zombie's eyes.

Hunger. A maddening hunger for the human in front of them. That was the single greatest difference separating humans from zombies.

But this woman — as a human and as a zombie — was the same. She had worn the eyes of a zombie from the very first moment I saw her.

And looking into those eyes, a pleasure like fireworks detonating in my skull spread through me. I could feel my cock hardening, inch by inch, without my even touching it.

That was it.

That fanaticism — that one-sided, all-consuming fanaticism pointed at me — was unbearably arousing.

Crriiick—

I tore out her head the same way I'd done to her daughter and closed both eyes.

Footage from the earlier vision rose automatically in my mind. The single comfortable place on an Earth guarded by zombies. The people who would offer body and soul to stay there. And me, enthroned above them all. A vast paradise belonging to me alone.

I could feel my cock, swollen to its limit, without gripping it in my hand.

At first, all I'd tried to do was somehow stay normal. I figured that once I stood at the top, everything I wanted would follow. Having seized this opportunity as the world collapsed around me, I'd grown hypersensitive to every tiny difference.

Looking back on it now, that was fucking retarded.

Like the saying goes — the guy who's ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠tasted meat knows better. What could a bastard who had never once stood at the top possibly understand? I had been nothing but a runaway locomotive, hurtling with no destination. A train that lost its destination would eventually have to grind to a halt somewhere.

But not anymore.

The moment I nodded my head, I felt a fullness of light flooding through my entire body.

Build them a haven. Protect them — and demand just one thing in return. Everything they are.