The Flail's Reach
I had ended up inside a zombie apocalypse novel. We'd already talked about it since the story came up, but I didn't think there was any need to modify it. No, to be honest—I was handling the Beopbong just fine. Over the past two weeks I'd smashed the heads of hundreds of zombies with that bat. It was finally starting to feel natural in my hands. There was no reason to change anything.
"That baseball bat of yours is too short."
"Still longer than your fists, isn't it?"
"Does it hit as hard as my fists?"
"...When you put it that way, I got nothing."
Compared to him, who could pop zombie heads like balloons with a single punch, the Beopbong's destructive power was definitely lower. Honestly, it was hard to believe a five-kilogram club was weaker than his bare hands. That just meant he was the monster, not that the Beopbong was at fault.
I was about to argue when a mop handle was suddenly shoved in front of my face.
"Alright, Lee Yeji. What's your role?"
"Uh, tank? While you reorganize, I get hit while smashing zombie heads."
"Exactly. So let's smash those heads while getting hit less."
"By... attaching that?"
"Yeah. Let's turn it into a flail. In this case, a horse flail."
"Ah..."
"You get it?"
"But what's a flail?"
Noh Changhun gritted his teeth. He clearly wanted to curse me out, but he held back because he couldn't yell at someone who was mentally off. I knew that look well from middle school—the expression I used to make whenever the kid from the special support class started rambling nonsense. Still, it felt unfair. How was I supposed to know what a flail was?
"You attach a chain or something to this handle and connect it to the club."
"That's a flail? That's just a flail."
"You know what a flail is but not a pyeongon?"
Noh Changhun let out a hollow sigh and began explaining slowly. In the West it's called a flail, in the East a pyeongon. The Korean-style pyeongon has an extremely short chain connecting the handle and the striking head. Honestly, the only thing that came to mind was that it looked cool, but I nodded along and kept listening so he wouldn't snap at me.
"If we attach the club to this long handle, what happens?"
"Uh, like using nunchucks?"
"Similar. When you swing it, the club will hit a little farther back."
"Ah."
"Plus, it's easy enough that you can use it with just two hands."
"So it's better than swinging a baseball bat?"
"Yeah. In an emergency you can just grab the bat part and swing it normally."
"Really?"
The moment I handed over the Beopbong and asked him to make it, Noh Changhun grabbed my shoulders. I shot him a look asking what the hell he was doing, but I already knew. This bastard was worried I wouldn't be able to handle it properly.
"Do you think I'm an idiot? I'm gonna smack myself in the back of the head swinging this?"
"...It's more surprising that you'd hit yourself with a flail than with nunchucks or three-section staff."
"Then just make it already. We've got time, so I can practice."
"Listen, Yeji. Remember this. A flail is a long weapon."
"..............A flail is a long weapon."
"It maximizes the advantages of striking power while also maximizing the disadvantages of a long weapon."
"Striking power, wait... do you think I'm a kid?"
It was a little—no, extremely embarrassing. He was treating me like some clueless child. I'd been surviving just fine without any flail. I was sure I could adapt quickly, but the way he was acting made it feel patronizing. Still, Noh Changhun stubbornly continued explaining the pros and cons. It wasn't a weapon for prolonged fights; it was for instantly turning the tide. It was suited for hit-and-run tactics, so I had to keep that in mind.
After rambling on like that for a while, he sighed and said, "Since we're making it from a mop handle, don't think you can block with the shaft."
"Got it."
"When zombies get close, don't swing it—create distance first. No, wait."
"What?"
"I'll make you something else too."
Noh Changhun took my hand and led me outside. He started rummaging through random spots, gathering odds and ends. When he came back holding stockings, my first thought was that he'd lost his mind. But he clearly had a plan—once it was finished, it actually looked decent. He'd stuffed a stone into the stocking, tied it off, and wrapped the other end around a stick.
"Here. This is a one-handed flail for close range."
"One-handed?"
"Yeah. I made it so you can hold it with one hand. Remember that."
"Will it have enough power? It should at least match the Beopbong..."
"It's good enough for cracking heads. And this..."
"This?"
Noh Changhun pulled out a strange stick. It looked like a ㄱ shape, but something was off. No, maybe a ㅅ?
"A tonfa. Would've been nice if we could steal real police ones, but this'll do for now."
"H-how do you even use this?"
"Just grab the handle like this and the stick rests along your forearm, right?"
"Yeah."
"Use it like you're blocking. Since you haven't trained with it, think of it as a shield."
"Huh? Oh. So I hold the one-handed flail in my right hand and the tonfa in my left?"
"You got it."
Noh Changhun nodded, looking relieved. It should've been a happy moment, but something about it annoyed me. The feeling didn't last long, though. More than anything, these were weapons he'd made for me with his own hands. After swinging them a few times, I could tell—they were makeshift and weak, but they'd be useful for a while.
"Hey, I'm touched. You're even making me presents now."
"We're in the same boat. We should go in the direction where you get hurt as little as possible."
"Whoa..."
"I can't even imagine you not being here anymore. We've crossed the line between life and death together too many times."
"Yeah, that. We've dipped into the River of Three Crossings together a few times now."
I playfully held out my fist. Noh Changhun laughed and bumped it with his own. Then he said he'd make the horse flail and walked off with the Beopbong. While he worked, I practiced with my new weapons. Honestly, because I'd been using a baseball bat until now, it wasn't that difficult. It was more accurate to say I already had a feel for how to use them.
I wanted to throw cool punches like a boxer, but Noh Changhun had told me not to. He'd only seen me throw a single jab and looked horrified.
"Ultimate...!"
"Stop messing around and practice more."
"What? I thought we agreed no swearing. Are you mad?"
"Haa... whatever. Do whatever you want, our Yeji. Yeah, do it all."
"Oh."
Seeing him completely resigned made me wonder if I'd gone too far. But thinking about it again, it wasn't that bad. In an apocalypse, mental health was the most important thing for survival. If this kind of small happiness helped, wasn't it fine?
With that thought, I told him I'd go for a quick lap and look around. I wasn't really thinking about anything in particular when I happened to spot the bicycle storage area.
"Hmm."
The sign said CCTV was installed and warned not to touch the bikes. There were even posters claiming several people had already been caught by the police. Because of that, most of the bicycles didn't have any security devices. Come to think of it, I did need a bicycle.
"Heh."
A laugh escaped me. It was a pretty expensive bike—left alone for a month and still not rusted. And there wasn't even a lock on it. If I took it using the skills I'd picked up, Noh Changhun would probably like it. He'd been muttering about worrying about bicycles at night lately. So maybe I only needed to steal two.
I quickly picked one, hopped on, and started pedaling hard.
"Hey, Changhun! Look what I brought!"
"We did need bicycles, but I didn't say we needed them right now."
"Come on, don't be like that. There's no guarantee we'll find more later anyway."
"Well, that's true, but..."
"Then at least praise me."
When I got off and puffed out my chest, Noh Changhun laughed like he found me cute. He walked over and patted my head. It was unexpected. I'd thought he'd just say "good job" with words. But having my head patted felt strange. It wasn't exactly unpleasant, but it was... something. Still, I'd asked for praise, so telling him to stop would be weird. So I just stood there and let him do it for a while.
"I'm going to make the flail now, so go get another one."
"Huh? Oh. Okay."
"What's with that half-hearted reaction?"
"It's nothing."
There was a feeling I couldn't put into words. It was similar to friendship or camaraderie, but something more. It tickled at my chest. It definitely wasn't love. Absolutely not. After thinking about it, I realized what it was.
Belonging. The feeling that we were equals now, unlike when we first met. That intense sense of belonging made me feel proud. I wanted to shout "Who am I?" but I knew I'd just get cursed at. So I just grinned and headed back to the bicycle area.
After bringing the second bike, I rested while watching Noh Changhun make the flail.