Hell Scroll (9)
Han Si-jang awoke amid an unpleasant sensation. Her eyes were open, but her body still wouldn't respond. Sleep paralysis. She strained with all her might, starting from the tips of her fingers, but nothing budged. Instead, nightmares overlaid her vision, dragging her back into old memories.
'We don't have the resources to support both of you. You two need to come to an agreement on who dies and who lives.'
It was a sudden directive. One of them had to die. Only one could succeed. Her younger sister had misinterpreted "agreement," trying to convince Han Si-yeon to abandon the program. Let's quit this. You're the most precious person in the world to me. Let's go back to scraping by under those trash old gangsters, living worse than slaves. That's how it sounded to Han Si-yeon.
A surge of murderous intent. She jammed the chopsticks clutched in her hand straight into her sister's throat.
Kek— Kek— Kerheuk— Gack—
Her sister's gaze turned toward her, chopsticks embedded in her neck, eyes silently asking why? Why?
Why? Because only one of us can live.
That was Han Si-yeon's childish understanding of "agreement."
"Haa..."
Finally, the paralysis lifted. Han Si-jang heaved ragged breaths and rubbed her dry face. Back then, if the director hadn't walked in smiling with satisfaction and stopped her, would she have actually killed her sister? Finished her off right there? Now, with her youthful savagery dulled, it was impossible to say.
"I must've dozed off. Anything happen while I was out?"
"Nothing much."
Cheol-woo replied, crunching on an energy bar. A bunch of parachutes had dropped from the night sky, but that was it. Reinforcements or supplies, probably for the Chinese or the Americans—either way, a headache. With fresh resupply, the enemies who'd gone quiet all yesterday would likely press the attack again.
"Time to move. The enemy knows we've lost our outpost, so they'll chase us down."
"You sure it's safe to head out? No more bombs dropping...?"
"Not safe at all. We could get bombed again, obviously. From here on, think of stopping as dying. We run straight to the lab in one go."
"Ah..."
Taking a break? Reorganizing? That meant bombs from above. So now, they couldn't stop even for a second—just sprint nonstop to the lab. Was that even possible? Through unknown roads, mutant hordes of who-knows-how-many, fending off surprise attacks from survivors who could strike anytime?
Weighing those risks was pointless now. Knowing didn't mean avoiding them, and there were no choices anyway. To survive, they had to go.
"I-isn't there another way? This seems way too dangerous..."
"..."
Mi-young cautiously detached her tongue, and all eyes turned to her. Han Si-jang glared at her with utter contempt.
"Another way? Got some genius idea? If so, you got the skills to pull it off?"
"N-no... I mean... No, ma'am..."
"No my ass. You bring it up, then swallow it back? Let's hear it. Speak freely. Come on."
"Wh-what if we use the subway tracks...? We could move without exposing ourselves to survivors or satellites..."
"..."
Cheol-woo and Yuri's jaws dropped, and Han Si-jang's face, ready to tear into her, went blank. It was a method no one had even imagined. Charge through the mutants lurking inside that iron gate into the station? Push forward in a completely sealed underground, surrounded front and back by mutants? Had this bitch finally lost her mind?
"That mouth of yours just spits whatever now? Think you're hot shit 'cause I dragged you this far? Got a sense of self now, huh?"
"Aaaah! S-sorry, ma'am!"
"Hold up."
Just as Han Si-jang grabbed Mi-young's hair and started slapping her cheeks, Cheol-woo's body twitched. Like he'd heard something? Imagination? He raised a hand for silence, then crept right up to the iron gate where the mutants were growling kruaaah—.
No matter how hard he strained, all he heard was the mutants smacking their lips. Han Si-jang was puzzled but kept her mouth shut until he lowered his hand.
"Hear something? Probably just mutants bumping into stuff..."
"Sounded like an engine."
"An engine?"
"Yeah. Internal combustion starting up."
"..."
"..."
Silence fell. An engine sound from inside the subway station? Hard to believe. But Cheol-woo had sharp ears, so it carried weight—and more than that, they desperately wanted it to be true. The moment they surfaced, it'd be a nonstop race to the lab, no stops, no sleep. But underground, a safe path with engines running around? Seemed absurd, but their hopes tilted that way.
"Shall we check it out?"
"Yeah. Let's probe the underground."
Han Si-jang nodded immediately in agreement, while Mi-young sat slumped, rubbing her swollen red cheek with a wronged expression. If Cheol-woo was right, there was a safe passage inside. If not? Oh well. Better torn apart by mutants than captured by mainlanders, scanned for retinas and prints, organs harvested while dying.
"Noona. Tank."
"Got it."
Yuri, fully geared in her hazmat suit, took point and sliced off the mutants' arms reaching through the gate in one sweep. Thud thud— As arms hit the ground, NewTontonMan lifted the gate. At the same time, she swung low—whoosh— severing mutant ankles, toppling them all. Thung thung thung— Cheol-woo's suppressed micargun spat fire, punching through eye sockets.
"From here, keep mouths shut. Hand signals only."
"..."
While Cheol-woo and Yuri held the gate, the two quad bikes rolled over mutant corpses. Once clear, they quietly lowered the gate and regrouped. No clue whose engine it was, but if they realized we were tailing them, trouble. They'd likely cleared the underground path, making us intruders.
"See anything? No need for lights?"
"..."
Click— NewTontonMan flashed a thumbs-up with her massive gauntlet. Cheol-woo placed a hand on her shoulder, and she plunged into the darkness without hesitation. Wherever Yuri went, mutants fell silently, throats slit. Cheol-woo finished off any still twitching by drilling their eye sockets.
What the hell are those two...?
To Han Si-jang and Team Leader Kim Mi-young trailing on quad bikes, it was straight out of a horror flick. Bump bump— Corpses kept piling up ahead no matter how many they crossed. What could they see? Mutants had darkvision too, but those two were better. And their teamwork? Perfect, like a decade-old assassin duo.
'Tracks blocked?'
At the platform, Cheol-woo shone his light—revealing the unexpected. Glass screen doors shattered, but dense rebar separated tracks from platform. Someone had deliberately welded it shut. If every station was like this, securing the entire subway line as a safe passage wasn't impossible.
"Looks like someone's monopolizing the subway tracks. Too many mutants at station entrances for anyone to check."
"Yeah. Third faction, separate from the surface groups."
Definitely not the struggling Americans or mainland Chinese. Monopolizing tracks like this meant locals who knew the area cold. Hong Kong natives, probably. With luck, they could snag a guide. Han Si-jang's lips curved slyly.
In one corner of the sealed platform, a swinging iron door. Kachak— Yuri's sword sheared lock and chain, opening it. They cautiously wheeled the quad bikes inside.
"..."
The tunnel stretched into pure darkness, silent save for wind whistles and distant mutant shrieks. So Cheol-woo heard an engine from here? They'd come far from the first sound—insane hearing.
"Hold."
"...?"
Lead Cheol-woo stopped, flicked on a small flashlight to the floor. Tripwire at ankle height, linked to a grenade trap. Made obvious, so not for people—alert for mutant intruders. Meaning survivors ahead.
Disarmed, bikes rolled on.
"..."
Twitch. Cheol-woo caught a faint sound, patted his seat—tap tap— bikes halted. A low rumbrumble— like the earlier engine. Dismounting to muffle noise, they pushed by hand.
People.
Far ahead, bright lights flared. Three-wheeler cargo bike, idling with a rumbrumble— parked at the platform. From the sealed platform side, dull thuds and mutant shrieks keeaaak!
People. Hunting mutants beyond.
"We pass by. No point clashing."
"Yeah."
Whispered decision: sneak past. But couldn't resist loot—Cheol-woo checked the cargo at the bike, face hardening. Familiar ID in a wallet.
"Why stop? What's up?"
"Korean, looks like."
"So? Gonna say hi?"
"Yeah. Just a quick hello. Looks familiar."
"H-hey!?"
Cheol-woo strode back toward the platform entrance. Han Si-jang paled in panic; Yuri overtook him without hesitation, slicing the chain.
This fucking idiot, what the hell!?
Why were those breadheads like this? Koreans abroad can't ignore each other? Han Si-jang could only stamp her feet, watching Cheol-woo and Yuri vanish inside.
...
Mistake, mistake, mistake...!
Thud thud thud— Kruaaah— Uuuraaah— Amid the echoes from all sides, Junior Lee Yeon-woo huddled in the toilet stall, teeth chattering.
Simple mission: grab gas masks from the station, done. Not deep in, so quiet meant no mutants. But one slip ruined it all. Local partner accidentally flashed the light, eye-to-eye with corner sleepers.
Chased, others died, now alone, trapped here. No radio. Weapons dropped fleeing. Mutants moments from smashing through.
Tears streaming, death certain—
"Noona. Tank a bit."
"...?"
Shiiik! Whoosh! Air sliced, blood spraying everywhere. Growls faded, banging stopped. Dripping blood the only sound in creepy silence.
Creeeak— Door opened; hulking astronaut appeared. Lee Yeon-woo nearly fainted in relief.
"Heek...!"
"Shh, quiet. Who're you with?"
"K-Korea..."
"GeumMyeong Security Team 2. Right?"
"Y-yes, yep."
Stoic man behind the astronaut started questioning. How'd he know I'm Team 2? Fleeting doubt, but no time—Lee just nodded desperately.
"Been in Hong Kong over a week?"
"Pardon? Y-yeah... two weeks now..."
Man's face lit up. He extended a hand, grandfatherly kind.
"Nice to meet you. GeumMyeong Security Team 1 Chief, Min Cheol-woo. Here to rescue you guys."
"Pardon?"
"...What?"
Yuri couldn't hold back, blurting in disbelief.