The Stadium Where Corpses Run (3)
Ha Yu-ju.
Screaming. Writhing. Pain. Bleeding. Sobbing. Fingernails.
Gwak Jae-gyeom.
Fervor. First aid. Agitation. Irritation. Desperation. Blood.
Cha Si-eon.
Radio. Voice. Composure. Urging. Orders. Situation resolved.
Seo Do-woon.
The editor of a certain Gravekeeper, who had met death yet again.
Ha Yu-ju's sobbing had finally subsided. It seemed her condition was, at last, turning around.
I considered wiping the dried blood from her face, but gave up on the idea. Conserving our water was the wiser call.
The back of my hand stung. I looked down and found it covered in crescent-shaped wounds — nail marks Ha Yu-ju had driven into me as she thrashed in agony. Unable to so much as flinch at the pain, I pulled my sleeve down over my knuckles.
Gwak Jae-gyeom, who'd had it far worse than I had, sat a little ways off. Exhausted, he was leaning back against the wall with his head bowed. The lighting wasn't even that bright, yet the blood caked through his hair showed all too well. Thank god our uniforms were black.
"You okay?"
"Yeah, I'm… fine."
When I came over and asked, Jae-gyeom lifted his head, then gave a sheepish smile, as though my concern embarrassed him more than his injuries did.
"Me? Of course I'm okay — I was braced for it. It's Ha Yu-ju I'm worried about. She's not even combat personnel, you know? Formation Team gets the bare minimum of training, and not all field divisions are built the same. Ugh, seriously…"
He tried to act like everything was fine, then dropped his head again and raked his fingers roughly through his hair. His forearm, raised above his head, was a mess of bite marks — from when he'd cinched a tourniquet around Ha Yu-ju's arm to stop the bleeding and she'd panicked, biting and tearing at him. The clotted blood and bruising looked gruesome.
But it seemed the inside was in worse shape than the outside. If the two of us had been the ones dragged in here, I probably would've been cracking jokes the whole time. I'd have cheerfully reported to Cha Si-eon that the personal-effects mission was a success, and if my own hand got lopped off, I might even have bluffed about requesting a robotic replacement.
Jae-gyeom had no such margin right now. I swallowed down a heavy sigh of my own.
The place we occupied was a cramped corridor that curved like the inside of a snail shell. A fluorescent fixture hung from the ceiling, but it was dead; only a dim glow seeping in from somewhere outside let us make out the interior. Beyond that, there was nothing distinctive about the place at all — I couldn't even begin to guess where we were.
I glanced around for a moment, then spoke into my smartwatch.
"Team Leader Cha Si-eon, where exactly are we?"
"I will explain the space once Ha Yu-ju is stable."
So that was why there'd been no briefing — he'd been waiting on her.
I was just nodding along when—
"I'm okay now."
Ha Yu-ju spoke in a voice thin as a thread. I whipped around in surprise, and Jae-gyeom's head came up too. Ha Yu-ju, lying on the jacket Jae-gyeom had spread out for her, was forcing herself upright.
"Ha Yu-ju. Are you calm?"
"Yes. I'm calm."
Was she, really? She'd only just stopped sobbing. She was still crying.
"I'll brief you first. Your severed hand is being transported to the medical center. The dissipation rate of the silicone bracelet severed along with it is confirmed at 0.5mm or less. If your wrist is in the same condition, they say the majority of the nerves can be reattached."
"What about contamination?"
"Contamination levels will be measured the moment it arrives at the medical center. Those results will also determine whether reattachment surgery proceeds."
So if it had contaminated, the hand might not go back on at all. I quietly studied Ha Yu-ju's face. But she was surprisingly composed — no. She was breathing shallowly, trying to be composed.
"Jaegyeom."
"Yes, Team Leader."
"Get Ha Yu-ju out first, then return with Seo Do-woon. The medical team puts her golden window at two hours."
"Is a rescue team deploying?"
"Deployment of a rescue team will be reconsidered after Ha Yu-ju is extracted."
"Why? No — wait, where even are we?"
With a critical patient on our hands, holding back the rescue team defied belief. Jae-gyeom fired off question after question at the incomprehensible ruling.
"Where you are now is the General Stadium Where Corpses Run."
But Cha Si-eon's answer was more than enough to seal our mouths.
A heavy silence settled over us.
As if in a trance, I rose to my feet and headed toward the light. I climbed a few steps, and an open expanse of outdoors spread out before me. A pitch-black sky, empty of moon and stars. Beneath it, a colossal floodlight tower blazing. A field of green turf monopolizing that brutal glare. And the dead, wandering across it.
Dozens of corpses — no, hundreds — were walking. Bloody, and with pieces of themselves torn away, they were still walking.
I could say it with certainty: this was the most horrifying sight of my life.
You are currently inside the General Stadium Where Corpses Run, under the management of the government of the Republic of Korea.
You are in a life-threatening situation. Memorize the survival rules below and evacuate with all due haste.
■ Common Precautions
One. Do not forget that you are human.
Only humans may leave this place.
Two. Abide by the social norms of the Republic of Korea.
Criminal acts are not permitted even within Special Management Zones (hereafter "Special Zones").
However, the minimal killing required to preserve your own survival is permitted as an exception.
All other criminal acts, as well as proxy killing committed to save any life other than your own, are strictly prohibited.
Violations may be punished under the Special Zone Special Act.
■ Escape Doctrine of the General Stadium Where Corpses Run
The General Stadium Where Corpses Run is a stadium-shaped Special Zone characterized by dead humans attacking living humans. The escape routes identified to date are as follows. Refer to the information below and return home alive.
— Routes —
Route A. Escape through cleaning the stadium
Route B. Escape through the White Shadow with a Pierced Chest
Route C. Escape through the Judge Who Weighs
Route D. Dying for one's country
That damn "dying for one's country" could go straight in the trash. Three ways out of the Stadium Where Corpses Run, then.
"Ha Yu-ju got hurt in the line of duty. Can't we just count that as national merit status?"
Jae-gyeom reached for a stretch of an argument that was never going to hold.
"No."
Of course, it didn't work.
An escape method available only to those who satisfy one of the conditions below.
1. A national merit honoree, or their direct descendant
2. One who has carried out regular donations or volunteer work for three years or longer
3. One formally commended for substantive social contribution
4. One otherwise recognized as a model of devotion to the nation, social contribution, or the practice of giving
Those who qualify may ask the White Shadow with a Pierced Chest for aid. If you do not meet the conditions, please select a different route.
Route B was an escape route like a commendation for patriots. Unfortunately, not one of us qualified. Should've lived a little kinder, I suppose.
"Cleaning the stadium would take way too long, right?"
This time it was my turn to mutter the obvious.
"Cleaning the stadium is not a viable condition at present. Even if the conditions were met, subduing and clearing all 147 Running Corpses currently roaming the field would require more than three days."
Yeah. Figured as much.
A method available when the survivors within the Special Zone number five or fewer, and the Running Corpses on the field number one hundred or more.
Become a cleaner. Subdue every Running Corpse, bag them in the sacks provided in the cleaning-supply shed, and transport them to the disposal site.
When the stadium cleaning is complete, the cleaner may clock out.
Route A was, in practice, impossible too. All that remained was Route C — escape through the Judge Who Weighs. And yet none of us brought it up. No — we were forcing ourselves to look away from it.
Through a match, trade, wager, or draw of lots with another person within the Special Zone, settle a winner and a loser, then secure a corpse of the loser equal to your own body weight.
The Judge will judge your victory not by quantity, but by weight.
Once the corpse is secured, run from the center of the stadium toward a soccer goal. Either goal will do. As you go, the Running Corpses roaming the field will come for you and for the corpse you carry. If you overcome the interference and reach the goal, the Judge Who Weighs will send you outside.
Precautions
1. The bodies of Running Corpses cannot be reused as the loser's corpse.
2. If you leave the field while moving toward the goal, you must return to the center of the stadium and begin again from the start.
3. Maintain the corpse's weight until you reach the goal. If the corpse's weight at the moment of arrival falls short of your own body weight, no victory will be recognized.
In a word: soccer, played with corpses. Complete with the thoroughly hackneyed, thoroughly repulsive premise of kill or be killed. Which is exactly why none of us wanted to bring it up — but Jae-gyeom went and opened his mouth anyway.
"Hyung, what's your weight?"
"About sixty."
"I'm seventy-three. Even combined, we don't crack one-forty."
Jae-gyeom let out a long, long sigh. Then he put a resolute hand on Ha Yu-ju's shoulder.
"Looks like you're the one who has to make the sacrifice. A hippo weighs over a ton, after all."
"Don't spike my blood pressure. I'm already short on blood…"
Ha Yu-ju shot back, her face chalk-white. Cracking jokes in the middle of all this. I wanted to laugh along at their bravado, but I couldn't quite manage it. That wasn't banter — it was an effort to bury the pain. So all I could offer was a bitter twist of the lips.
The one mercy was that there was no chance of us turning on each other. I was Kwon Mu-seop's pick. Jaegyeom was carrying a firearm. Yu-ju was the lightest of the three of us. In order: the person you mustn't kill, the person you couldn't kill, and the person killing wouldn't help anyway.
Besides, Cha Si-eon was watching us in real time from outside. There was no need for us to play that vicious little game — which meant… then how on earth was Ha Yu-ju supposed to get out? I couldn't see a single way. And Cha Si-eon was being oddly tight-lipped about it. During the mart, he hadn't given us so much as a moment to breathe. So why the silence now?
"Cut the chatter and focus. First — Seo Do-woon, put on your mask."
Cha Si-eon abruptly started issuing orders.
"Seo Do-woon, sit where Ha Yu-ju was lying and hold position. Jaegyeom and Yu-ju move to the room on the left. Jaegyeom, wait behind the door."
The briefing was sorely lacking, but we scattered as instructed. Not that it made much difference — the corridor was so narrow we were practically shoulder to shoulder anyway.
Three minutes or so passed like that.
Clang—! Ting—!
A tin can came flying from the far end of the corridor. It rolled to a stop somewhere near me — and the instant it stopped, it belched out a huge cloud of smoke.
"Ugh…!"
"Do not move."
When I flinched, Cha Si-eon's warning came low and level. So that's what the mask was for.
The Bureau-issued mask was a special model fitted with an external filter. Even so, an acrid stench stabbed at my nose. Someone had packed something nasty into that can and lit it. I endured the biting smoke without the faintest idea what was going on. The crude homemade tear gas canister soon sputtered out, and the corridor filled with a murky haze.
Shff—
Footsteps echoed through the stillness.
Shff— shff—
Just as those steps were closing in on me—
"Jaegyeom. Left of the corridor, fifteen degrees, ten meters. Fire."
Cha Si-eon commanded without a hitch, and Jae-gyeom obeyed without an instant's hesitation.
Pop-pop-pop—!
Gunfire erupted right beside me, and my eyes flew wide open. I was holding my breath, utterly lost as to what was happening, when—
Thud—
Something collapsed at the far end of the corridor. A sound that could only be death.