Canary's Song (5)
“Huh? Is this some kind of hallucination only I can hear?”
Bamtol glanced at Private First Class Cha, who was running beside him. He wondered if it was because he had been desperately wishing for helicopter support so badly that his mind was playing tricks on him.
“No, Sergeant Jo, sir!”
Private First Class Cha’s face was also flushed with the excited flush of hope. And he wasn’t the only one. Private Kim and the rest of the squad members were all buzzing with sudden excitement at the sound of the approaching helicopter.
Whump-whump-whump-whump-whump—!
Even as they ran, the distinctive noise grew steadily louder. It was clearly getting closer.
“They must’ve sent reinforcements!”
“Doesn’t this mean we can just hole up in the temporary barracks and wait it out, Sergeant Jo?”
Excited voices overlapped from every direction. Everyone wanted to escape this horrific, overwhelming pressure and terror. But Bamtol immediately shook his head.
“No!”
Without slowing his pace, Bamtol kept running and pointed ahead down the road.
“Just like we practiced—lure them to the three-way intersection in two stages! If we can’t take them all out there, we head north to the township office! Once we’re in the vehicles, we can still fight! Do not scatter! Understood?”
“Yes, sir!”
The squad members shouted back at the top of their lungs.
‘There’s no guarantee that’s actually our reinforcements, you idiots!’
Bamtol screamed the reason for his stubbornness only inside his own head. Although hearing rotor blades in this area was unusual, their brigade wasn’t the only unit that operated helicopters. The aircraft they still couldn’t see might simply be passing overhead on its way somewhere else. In fact, that was far more likely.
If that helicopter wasn’t bringing support, heading to Buron-myeon would mean running into a dead end with no retreat. Rather than betting their lives on such a slim chance, it was more soldier-like to fight with everything they had. He refused to end up surrounded by zombies, isolated, and slowly starving to death while waiting for someone else to save them.
Kwaaaaang—! Kwakwakwaang—!
A tremendous explosion erupted from behind them, and a powerful shockwave slammed into their backs.
“Ugh!”
Bamtol and his squad, running with every ounce of strength they possessed, staggered from the impact. They didn’t need to look back to know what had happened. The grenades they had rigged at the end of the bridge had detonated. Which meant… in just a few moments, the zombies that had crossed the bridge would set foot in Buron-myeon.
“Take positions! You all remember where you’re supposed to be, right?”
When they reached the four-way intersection near the township office, Bamtol turned and shouted. This was the second battlefield they had designated in advance, with traps already prepared. The squad members spread out in a firing line and stared down the gentle curve of the road ahead.
“Haa…! Haa…!”
Due to tension and fear, every soldier breathed with their mouths wide open, desperately gulping down as much oxygen as possible.
The zigzag brick barricades, the flimsy traps of wires tangled at knee height, and the roadside trees toppled diagonally—these were the only safety measures they could rely on. While those modest obstacles slowed the zombies down, they had to kill as many as possible, as quickly as possible.
Groaaaaak—! Gwaaaaa—!
A short while later, a massive horde of zombies rounded the corner and surged into view.
“Wh-why are there so many?”
Groans of despair escaped the soldiers’ lips. Bamtol was thinking the exact same thing.
There are so many!
An absolutely overwhelming wave of zombies was closing the distance in the blink of an eye. They thought they had taken out quite a few while defending the bridge… yet the bastards kept pouring in without end. Could they really… kill them all?
“Before they get over the trees, we pull back to the three-way! Before they cross the trees!”
Right before pulling the trigger, Bamtol reconfirmed the plan with his squad. Private Kim, standing beside him, repeated the order through the loudspeaker hanging around his neck.
“Before they get over the trees, we pull back to the three-way! Bweeeeeeee—!”
Then he set the loudspeaker down and grabbed his K-2. The moment Bamtol’s rifle cracked, he pulled his own trigger.
Tatata—! Tatatang—! Tututu—! Tutudu—! Tadada—!
The thunderous gunfire from nine K-2 rifles filled the quiet country road, then bounced off the walls and echoed back. Before the reverberation had even fully faded, Bamtol’s squad unleashed a second volley of three-round bursts.
Puff—! Puck—! Puh-guk—! Puck—! Kroaaaaak—!
The zombies in the front line crumpled as their heads exploded. But just like every fight against the undead, while their brain matter sprayed into the air like green mist, the ones behind closed the gap by more than a meter, charging even closer. With their mouths gaping wide in horrific forms torn apart by grenade shrapnel…!
Tututu—! Tututuk—! Tatatang—!
The soldiers fought down their instinctive urge to turn and flee, focusing everything they had on aiming and firing.
Groaaaaah—! Kwajik—! Puff—!
A zombie trying to leap over the brick barricade was blown sideways with a massive hole in the back of its skull. More corpses piled up on the next stack of bricks and caught in the low wire nets. But there was nothing to celebrate. The fact that corpses were now hanging from the wire nets meant the only barricade left in this sector was the single diagonally toppled roadside tree.
Tututu—! Tututu—!
Bamtol, who had taken out the first zombie attempting to jump the tree barricade, shouted at the top of his lungs.
“Fall back! Fall back!”
After firing one final three-round burst, the soldiers all turned at once and sprinted toward the three-way intersection.
Tap-tap-tap-tap—!
The footsteps of nine men were frantic. However, the rhythm had slowed considerably compared to their retreat from the bridge earlier. The stress of the continuous, razor-edge fighting and several all-out sprints had drained their stamina. Some of them… had been shivering in the cold for eight hours and hadn’t even managed four hours of sleep before being dragged out here.
“Haaaa…! Haa…!”
One by one, then two by two, soldiers began to fall behind.
“Breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth! Don’t pant with your mouth wide open! Run, you bastard!”
Bamtol stopped, urging on the stragglers and dragging them forward.
Gwaaaaaak—!
A quick glance over his shoulder showed that dozens of zombies had already crossed the tree barricade at the township office point and were charging toward them.
“Run! Run!”
Bamtol slapped the back of the slowest soldier and raised his rifle toward the zombies.
Tatatang—! Tatatang—! Tadada—! Tatata—! Tatatang—!
He emptied all fifteen rounds left in his magazine and only managed to drop two. He didn’t want to admit it, but this was the best his skill could do. Hitting the head of a zombie sprinting at full speed from fifty meters away was simply… too difficult.
“Aww, fuck!”
Unable to contain his frustration, Bamtol turned and ran while smacking his own helmet.
Clatter-clatter—! Clatter—!
At the three-way intersection ahead, the soldiers who had arrived first were dragging vehicle control barricades and a handcart into place, blocking the road and preparing for another fight.
“Once they get over this, we circle around to the north and head for the township office! We need to go right! Don’t run left!”
While hooking the wire net connected to the utility pole onto a ring on the wall of the Samdo Agricultural Materials Department Store, Bamtol pointed down the right-hand road.
Kwaaaaaah—!
In the few seconds that passed, the leading zombies had already caught up and were leaping cleanly over the handcart loaded with fertilizer sacks.
Tatatang—! Tatata—!
The squad’s rifles spat fire, and the airborne zombies fell to the ground like logs. But half of them had only suffered shattered torsos. Zombies with exposed ribs began scrambling back to their feet and charging again. And behind them, a massive horde of what had to be hundreds of zombies surged forward like a furious, raging wave.
“……Fall back.”
Bamtol, who had been sighting down his rifle, muttered in a dazed voice.
“Fall back! Fall back! I said fall back!”
He repeated the order several times in case anyone hadn’t heard. There were simply too many, and the distance had grown far too close. With only these flimsy barricades and nine ordinary soldiers, there was no way they could hold. The time had truly come to run without looking back.
Crash—!
Bamtol smashed the glass window of the three-way rice cake mill with his rifle butt and tossed in a lit Zippo lighter.
Whoosh—! Fwoooosh—!
The small amount of hay and cigarette packs stacked inside caught fire, sending thick smoke billowing out. That cigarette smoke and flames would buy them one last ten minutes of desperate temptation for the zombies.
“Run!”
After confirming the fire had properly caught, Bamtol shouted to the entire squad already sprinting ahead. They had finally reached the three-way! But then…
“Hey! Hey! You sons of bitches! Hey! Private Kim!”
Bamtol’s eyes widened as he saw three squad members, including Private Kim, suddenly veer south and sprint away. No matter how loudly he cursed and called after them, they didn’t even glance back. He poured on a full sprint, caught up, and grabbed one by the shoulder.
“You idiots! Why are you going this way?”
“……Huh? Sergeant Jo, sir… you said… go right… haa…!”
Private Kim looked genuinely confused about why he was being scolded and pointed south with his right hand. The other two nodded with equally dazed expressions. In a way, they weren’t wrong. When they had been facing the zombies, right had been north, but after turning around, south had become right… and with their terrified brains, that single word must have been the only thing that stuck.
“Follow me, you idiots!”
Bamtol didn’t waste time arguing and led them back toward the north at a dead run.
Crash-bang—! Crash—! Groaaaaah—!
Meanwhile, the sound of zombies drunk on cigarette smoke rampaging inside the rice cake mill echoed behind them. However… perhaps there hadn’t been enough cigarettes? Not every zombie had been drawn inside.
Kwaaaaaak—!
Dozens—no, perhaps many more than that—zombies vaulted over the crude barricades in an instant and chased after them.
“Uwaaaaaah!”
When the distance to the five or six zombies in the lead shrank to within thirty meters, screams finally burst from the soldiers’ mouths. Bamtol and Private Kim, running at the very rear, felt their hearts freeze even colder.
Tututututu—! Tutututu—! Tutututu—!
Bamtol switched his rifle to full auto and occasionally stopped to fire behind them. But doing so didn’t magically improve his accuracy. He somehow managed to drop the closest ones, but more zombies kept coming from farther back, and the longer they ran, the more exhausted only the humans became.
There were still about sixty meters left to the township office parking lot. All they had to do was round one corner, split up into the two parked cars, and… right now, even that felt impossibly difficult.
“Start the engines and bring the cars this way! I’ll buy time here with Private First Class Cha!”
When they finally reached the road leading to the township office, Bamtol ordered the rest of the squad. He immediately climbed onto the container box sitting on the vegetable garden.
Thud—!
Although it was a dangerous mission, Private First Class Cha followed without complaint, sweat pouring down his face, and climbed up onto the container roof beside him. If they didn’t slow the zombies down even a little, the entire alley would be blocked. And once that happened, even if they got into the cars, they wouldn’t be able to escape. Someone had to stay here and reduce the zombies’ numbers and speed.
“Shoot calmly! You can do this!”
Bamtol assumed a seated firing position, aimed forward, and shouted. The grotesque faces of the zombies rounding the corner of the rice cake mill were visible in the distance. The range was forty meters! Even if they started picking them off now, it would be tight. But… Private First Class Cha wasn’t answering. Wondering if the gunfire had deafened him, Bamtol shouted again.
“Get a hold of yourself! I said shoot calmly!”
“……Sergeant Jo, sir.”
Instead of answering, Private First Class Cha grabbed Bamtol’s shoulder and shook it.
“What?”
When he turned his head, the private was staring at the eastern sky with a half-dazed expression. And where his gaze was fixed… whump-whump-whump-whump-whump—!
The Black Hawk that had been hidden behind the Wonju Finance and Accounting High School building was approaching them, emitting its characteristic low rotor blade sound. The moment the low-flying Black Hawk reached directly overhead, the container box Bamtol stood on was swallowed by the helicopter’s long, massive shadow.
“Whoa!”
Feeling the area engulfed in noise and fierce wind, a sound resembling a sob of awe escaped Bamtol’s lips. Private First Class Cha already had tears welling up in his eyes. They had thought it was just a helicopter passing by with no connection to them… but real reinforcements had actually arrived!
Taaaaang—!
The Black Hawk, flying low and turning its nose perpendicular to the road, fired a single shot from its side that echoed long and loud.
Puh-guk—!
A hole punched straight through the forehead of the leading zombie.
Thump—!
The zombie’s corpse, unable to overcome its momentum, pitched forward with its upper body leaning back and knees buckling. Before its knees even touched the ground, the Black Hawk’s gunner pulled the trigger again.
Tang—! Tang, tang, taaang—! Tang, taaaang—!
Six shots rang out, and six zombies crumpled, scattering brain matter. Even that was astonishing enough to leave their mouths hanging open, but the Black Hawk’s gunner wasn’t satisfied. He continued firing single, precise shots as if he were a machine.
Tatang—! Tang—! Tang, tang! Taaaang—!
The savage gunfire cracked through the air like a whip. The instant the sound split the air, one zombie after another—those that had been sprinting forward—collapsed. After eliminating every one of the closest threats, the Black Hawk slightly changed direction and lowered its altitude.
Swooooong—! Whump-whump-whump-whump-whump—!
When the Black Hawk descended to just one meter above the ground of the Wonju Finance and Accounting High School athletic field, four soldiers jumped out one after another through the open sliding door.
“It’s the Special Mission Group…!”
Bamtol muttered upon seeing their black uniforms, helmets, and the “707” insignia on the back of their tactical vests. He didn’t care why the 707 Special Mission Group, which had nothing to do with his brigade, had come to support them. The only thing that mattered to him in this moment was that the most reliable allies imaginable had appeared. Who could possibly fight better than them?
Tututuk—! Tutudu—! Tututu—! Tututu—!
The four special forces operators moved across the athletic field toward the container where Bamtol stood, casually pouring out three-round bursts from their MP5s as if this level of pressure was nothing new to them. Zombie corpses piled up at an astonishing rate. With only four men joining the fight, the situation that had felt utterly hopeless just moments ago flipped into a crushing victory in an instant.
Puh-bang—! Puh-bang—!
Whenever zombies got too close, the shotgun operator in the center mercilessly fired one or two rounds of buckshot, blasting them backward. Immediately afterward, 9mm rounds from the MP5s were delivered to the fallen undead.
Tututu—! Tututu—! Tududuk—! Tududu—!
After turning dozens of zombies into corpses in mere seconds, one of the special forces operators turned to Bamtol and shouted.
“Soldier! Cease fire until further orders! We’ll take control from here!”
“……Yes, sir!”
“And keep those two vehicles coming out of the alley stopped.”
“Yes! Yes, sir!”
Bamtol answered that he would obey without question. The terrifying marksmanship was impressive enough, but the single-eyed glare of the operator who had given the order was so intimidating that he couldn’t possibly disobey.
Tududuk—! Tutudu—! Tututu—! Puh-bang—! Puh-bang—!
The four special forces operators stood in line with the container Bamtol was on and continued sweeping the zombies on the road. It was as if they were giving a live demonstration of what true three-round burst fire should look like—perfect accuracy and blinding speed.
“Whoa…! Fuck! That’s so badass! Seriously fucking cool!”
Overwhelmed by a thrilling rush, Bamtol unconsciously clenched his fist and shouted praise mixed with curses. The Republic of Korea’s finest elite special forces unit. There was no more reliable reinforcement than them… or so he thought, when—thud—!
One more person stepped down from the Black Hawk, which had moved slightly toward the center of the athletic field to target the zombies’ flank. The figure quickly took a few running steps forward and opened fire with 5.56mm rounds at the zombies pouring out from the alley at long range.
Taang—! Tang—! Tatang—! Taaaang—!
That familiar, oddly shaped K-2, the black tactical vest, and the civilian-style military uniform. Only then did Bamtol realize why the storm of single shots fired from the Black Hawk earlier had felt so strangely familiar.
“Ji….”
The moment Bamtol tried to say the name, Private First Class Cha beat him to it. The private thrust both arms into the air and screamed with raw emotion.
“Jin-woo hyung! Jiiiin-woooooooon!”