Civil War (13)
'It's started.'
As soon as the Energy Minister appeared on the public broadcast, Min Cheol-woo squeezed his eyes shut. They hadn't even reached Darwin yet, and it was already underway. Watching the reporter's head explode on the screen, followed by the black parasitic creature making its direct appearance—his heart started pounding in his chest. This was a kind of final ultimatum to the parasites. No more places to run for you, we're going to hunt you down unilaterally. A declaration of war.
Would those bastards just accept death quietly after a declaration like that? Their desperate last stand was sure to begin. All-out, no holds barred—every asymmetrical force they had.
'Fuck. Why isn't she picking up?'
Worried, he called Yuri, but she didn't answer. What the hell was she doing that she couldn't pick up? Checking the location tracker app, she was speeding through the city center at a pretty good clip. Was she being chased? He'd told her to hole up somewhere safe—Cheol-woo's teeth ground together.
He'd sent a warning text ahead of time, so what the hell had she been doing to get dragged into a chase like this?
"Approaching Darwin airspace shortly!"
"Got it! Heading to the truck."
"Are you really sure about not changing your mind? This isn't just serious injury territory—there's a real risk of death!"
"I'm pretty tough. No way I'm gonna die."
"..."
It was the perfect line for a last will and testament. The flight engineer stuck out his tongue in disbelief. They'd gotten a waiver absolving them of responsibility whether the truck got damaged or David Min himself got hurt, so it was no longer their problem.
David Min climbed into the truck, buckled up, and flashed a thumbs-up signaling he was ready.
*Whew*—let's do this—the flight engineer sighed and returned to his seat.
"Descending to ground level for low-altitude air cover."
The nose pitched sharply downward, and the transport plane began a steep dive. It leveled out only at a hair's breadth above the ground—an excruciatingly precarious altitude. The cargo ramp at the tail opened, revealing the asphalt road behind.
"Brace for impact."
*Whoosh*—the parachute attached to the truck billowed backward, yanking the vehicle out of the plane. For a split second, Cheol-woo felt his body lift into the air, goosebumps prickling across his skin. After a brief float, *thud*—a brutal jolt as the truck hit the ground.
Was this really a "landing" and not a crash? The impact was that severe. The truck skidded forward along the road for what felt like ages before finally grinding to a halt.
"I'm fine. Not sure if the truck will start, though."
Leaving those few words over the radio, the transport plane climbed back to altitude and vanished into the distance. Cheol-woo let out a sigh of relief and first checked the truck's condition. He'd stuffed extra shock absorbers into the wheels and suspension just in case, and luckily, the frame was intact with no burst hydraulics.
Now, if the engine was okay... *Gulp*—swallowing hard, he turned the key. *Rumble*—the engine roared to life with a savage growl.
American trucks really were built like tanks—Cheol-woo's lips curled into a grin.
"Alright, let's go. Time to find Sis, who won't pick up her damn phone."
The truck belched black smoke and tore down the road. Darwin's city center was already visible ahead.
But the fog was thick, visibility poor.
"What!?"
Suddenly realizing the fog had an odd tint, "Goddamn it"—the curse slipped out automatically. A faint blue hue. The familiar smell wafting from afar—it was that same blue drug fog he'd seen too many times.
Driving into the blue mist, he inhaled deeply—*sniff*—and his eyes began to redden with bloodshot veins. A reaction he'd felt before. Every hair on his body felt like it sprouted new sensory cells, hypersensitive, time slowing to a crawl. Biting down hard, blood trickled from between Cheol-woo's lips.
"It was you."
*Rattle*—spotting a beat-up van spewing blue smoke, Cheol-woo wrenched into a drift. He pulled his pistol from the window and *bang*—blood sprayed from the driver's seat. The van swerved, losing speed.
The passenger panicked, grabbing the wheel, but Cheol-woo's truck slammed into its side, shoving it relentlessly. The van's wheels spun uselessly, control lost.
*Roar*—with the fury of a wild stallion, the truck pushed it through the guardrail and over the cliff. The van dove into the sea, bubbles rising before it vanished beneath the waves.
"Fuck. If Sis is hurt..."
Maybe from inhaling the blue drug, a sudden fever surged, headache pounding. The tracker showed Yuri spinning in circles in the city center. Cheol-woo took a deep breath and floored the accelerator.
He'd just noticed—his hands on the wheel were vibrating like a mad RPM.
What if, when he arrived, Yuri had turned into a mutant, groaning *urrgh* and circling the rotary? If she'd chugged the blue drug he'd given her for the absolute last resort and ended up like that? Cheol-woo knew he'd jam his Maigen into his own eye socket and pull the trigger on the spot. He couldn't endure it otherwise.
'No way. Sis will pull through.'
Vague fear in his gut began to fade, replaced by rock-solid trust. If he'd survived the blue drug, no way his tough-as-nails sister couldn't. The shaking in his hands eased, the dot on his phone drawing closer.
It should be right around here—then, a horde of groaning *urrgh, grrr* mutants appeared ahead.
"...!?"
The plaza was packed with them—easily thousands at a glance. Cheol-woo drifted, blasting the air horn *hooooonk*—red eyes snapped toward him, heads whipping around. Like a current shifting, *rumble*—the horde surged straight after his truck in a straight line.
Cheol-woo grabbed white phosphorus smoke grenades from the passenger seat, tossing them out the window one by one. *Fwoosh*—crimson flames and smoke erupted, igniting the mutants. Grenade after grenade, the fire spread like contagion through the pack.
Soon the entire plaza was engulfed in white phosphorus hellfire, the stench of rotting corpses so thick it choked the air. Dragging the flaming tail of mutants for about 30 minutes, the horde's pace slowed—limbs melting, bodies collapsing—until only a few stragglers trailed the truck.
He pulled over, grabbed his HK417, and popped the heads of the crawling mutants. Backtracking, the massive horde had dissolved into heaps of white bones piled like a geological layer.
Stepping over corpses, he spotted a building entrance completely sealed by mutant bodies. A small *hngh* groan from inside—the pile shuddered, then exploded outward.
At the same time, a familiar bulky figure emerged from the dark interior. The NewTontonMan suit's head turned to Cheol-woo, froze, then shuddered violently.
Then it charged at him full tilt, lumbering forward. Even through the helmet, Cheol-woo could swear he saw her expression.
"You bastard! Why'd you take so long!!!"
"Guhk!"
*Thud*—NewTontonMan leaped straight into him. Cheol-woo's arms trembled violently as he caught her on reflex.
Did she double up on ballistic plates? Why's she heavier? Muscles cramping at their limit, she finally hopped down on her own.
"Sis, why didn't you pick up?"
"How am I supposed to answer with this hazmat suit and gloves on, you idiot."
"Tch. Maybe switch to a choker with call functions."
"You trying to die for real?"
"Ow."
*Thonk*—Yuri headbutted him with her helmet.
For all her words, it was true she'd only survived thanks to Cheol-woo. She'd made it into the bomb shelter, but when the door shattered, endless mutants poured in. She'd slashed and slashed in an infinite defense. Just as she was about to break through, that air horn from outside was the most welcome sound imaginable.
Cheol-woo's mere presence gave psychological stability.
"Where's Team Leader Kim Mi-young and the agent?"
"Both safe inside. And..."
"What the hell were you doing to attract this many mutants? Looks like every goddamn one in the neighborhood showed up."
Cheol-woo clucked his tongue, surveying the area. At least 3,000. Pretty much every mutant in the district.
No way they'd gather like this unless someone was advertising "I'm here!"
"W-well... there were circumstances..."
Yuri glanced around nervously, fingers tapping *tap-tap*.
At the sensed presence, Cheol-woo's head snapped to the shelter entrance. People in gas masks emerging one by one.
Holy shit. How many is that? Not one or two, but dozens upon dozens of survivors pouring out—Cheol-woo gasped in shock.