Northward
Jinwoo let out a long, heavy sigh of relief. For the past thirty minutes he hadn't moved a single muscle, simply lying prone amid a pile of zombie corpses while staring straight ahead... yet his entire body was drenched in sweat, as if the November cold didn't exist.
"Fuck."
Sheriff spat out a short curse that carried a mountain of emotion all at once. Ever since Mingu had yanked that witch's hat off her head, it had been one long, nightmarish string of crises. Looking back now, he could hardly believe they'd made it through.
The fact that none of them had been shot felt closer to a miracle. Bullets had been raining down from every direction.
"Three minutes until the yellow ones arrive."
Yubin, who had been checking his watch, shook his head to clear his thoughts and immediately corrected himself.
"Actually, two minutes and forty-five seconds. What do we do?"
It was a question of whether they should wait here until they could be absolutely certain the helicopter had vanished for good, or hurry out before the massive horde of over four thousand zombies descended on them.
"We get the hell out, obviously."
Sheriff answered first. Mask or no mask, he had zero desire to endure this godawful stench for another twenty-five minutes. No matter how tough he was, seeing a severed zombie head rolling around right at his feet and a literal mountain of corpses piled up made his stomach churn. Two minutes was more than enough time to climb up to the subway platform and start walking along the tracks.
"I agree. Leaving is better."
Jinwoo nodded in agreement. If even a small group of the yellow ones broke off and approached the interchange like before, quietly dealing with them would become impossible. The helicopter noise that had been masking the zombies' roars was gone now. The risk of being spotted by the horde was far greater than the threat of a hidden sniper.
"Then I'll take point."
Mingu slid his machete back into its sheath and raised his shield with his right arm. Yubin released the witch and pointed toward the eastern exit of Jamsil.
"This way, guys. Hold on a second."
Yubin scanned the area, then dragged over the most intact-looking zombie corpse he could find.
"This should work. Hup...!"
"What the hell? Don't do anything disgusting! Why are you hugging a zombie?"
The moment Yubin lifted the corpse with both arms, the witch—who had been brushing off her limbs—flinched violently and snapped in irritation. Sheriff walked over and gave her a light smack on the head.
"He's doing it so we don't get shot, you idiot!"
Then he held out his hammer to Yubin.
"Take this and give me that. I'll carry it."
"Just a moment."
Yubin pulled a towel from his backpack and draped it over the zombie's head. This way, the gaping bullet hole from Jinwoo's shot was hidden. Even though Samsuk-i hadn't given any warning, there was no harm in being extra cautious.
"There we go!"
Sheriff, now carrying the corpse, strode forward briskly. Mingu fell in step beside him, shield raised. Yubin, Jinwoo, and Samsuk-i followed, and the witch clutched herself tightly with both arms, half-walking, half-trotting along while making little whimpering sounds.
"Don't leave me behind in the dead bodies! My hand, please hold my hand!"
"Pick one. Either keep acting disgusted or keep asking for help."
Yubin frowned and extended his hand. The witch stared at his blood- and zombie-fluid-covered glove with clear revulsion before finally grabbing it. No matter how filthy and repulsive it was, it seemed she had decided it was better than walking alone through a mountain of corpses.
"Should I throw it?"
Sheriff, standing at the edge of the sunlight with the zombie body in his arms, glanced back. He looked ready to hurl the corpse toward the street. That would completely defeat the purpose of the decoy. Even if a sniper was watching this spot, they wouldn't be able to react that quickly. Jinwoo waved his hands frantically.
"Don't throw it. Grab the lower body and lean it forward like this. Like it's looking outside. Not too far—just a little."
"Ah... that might be better?"
Sheriff readily accepted the revised plan and carefully pushed the upper body of the corpse forward while supporting it. Without his monstrous strength, this would have required two people or tools—an advanced bit of maneuvering.
Creak—!
He tilted the corpse a little farther forward to test if anything was visible from outside, but no gunshots rang out.
"Let's go!"
When only one minute and thirty seconds remained until the yellow ones appeared, Yubin patted Mingu on the shoulder.
Tap-tap—!
Mingu lowered his stance, shield forward, and sprinted toward the subway station stairs. Jinwoo pressed the stock of his K-2 tightly against his shoulder, ready in case gunfire erupted. But... nothing.
Even after Mingu slipped between the pillars and reached the subway stairs, no attack came from anywhere. He even deliberately tilted the shield sideways to create an opening, but still nothing.
"Come on."
Now certain it was safe, Mingu beckoned to Yubin.
"Makes sense... If I were them, I wouldn't station a sniper here either."
Jinwoo nodded and stepped out into the sunlight. The enemy forces left now probably totaled no more than three at most. If they had to commit such a precious resource somewhere, it would obviously be at the original negotiation site—the floating café. They were probably waiting for them to return...
"Alright, time to run!"
Sheriff signaled the witch to hurry. In another minute and thirty seconds, an enormous swarm of zombies would flood the area. They needed to get as far away as possible before then if they wanted to drink even a sip of water in peace. This place was one he never wanted to see again.
"Oh, right! Water!"
Sheriff, who had climbed onto the subway platform at a brisk pace, stopped in front of a vending machine and started pulling out every bottle he could reach. Since they'd emptied their duffel bag of water and food earlier, all they had left were the emergency rations in their standard backpacks. They had to resupply whenever they could—especially water.
"Here, you carry these."
When Sheriff dumped an armful of bottles on her, the witch accepted them with both arms but stared with wide, incredulous eyes.
"Me? I have to carry the luggage?"
"What, you want to walk around empty-handed? You think this is a picnic?"
Sheriff shot back gruffly, then smashed the safety glass and dropped down onto the tracks.
"We're heading toward Konkuk University station, right?"
Jinwoo rummaged through his backpack, pulled out a headlamp, and fitted it onto his helmet. Once they passed the exposed track section visible through the windows, they would plunge into total darkness. Better to prepare now.
Of course, he didn't mind the dark. Even though the section ahead was exposed to the surface, once they reached the walled-in parts they would be free from outside observation. Even if the helicopter came back, it wouldn't be able to find them. That was a very important variable.
Groaaaaar—!
From far away on the western side of the Han River, the cries of the yellow balloon zombies began to echo. It sounded like a warning to get out of here fast. With Jinwoo and Samsuk-i in the lead, the five people and one large dog continued walking northward along the tracks.
Crunch. Crunch.
The only sound was the steady crunch of fine gravel underfoot. Everyone was exhausted to the limit, so no one spoke. Simply staying on their feet and walking quickly already required considerable willpower.
"I... want to wash my hands... Do you have any sanitizer?"
The witch, walking between Sheriff and Yubin while tightly clutching the water bottles and biting her lip, finally asked. Her dazed gaze was fixed on the tips of her fingers, which were covered in zombie fluids, someone else's blood, and some unidentifiable filth.
"Not yet. Don't stop. We'll rest once we're farther away. I'll give you water then."
Yubin answered coldly. Realizing that throwing a tantrum wouldn't work, the witch didn't push it. Instead, she started whining about something else.
"My feet hurt so much... It's killing me. Hnnng...! Ugh...! Too much pain. I don't know how much longer I can stand..."
No one answered. If you traced the root cause of all the disasters they'd suffered today, this crazy woman was probably responsible for at least eighty percent of it. For such a problematic person to complain about sore feet, none of the four men here were soft enough to feel sorry for her.
"Guys, guys! Where are we going? Have you at least decided on a destination?"
When Yubin and Sheriff ignored her and quickened their pace, the witch sped up too and tried a different question.
"Once we reach that shadow up ahead, you can drink."
Instead of answering directly, Yubin pointed at a much darker patch of shade ahead. It was dark enough that even if someone looked down from the Ttukseom subway station tracks, they would have a hard time spotting them.
"Really? You swear? ...Ouch! Shit!"
The witch, who had brightened and lengthened her stride, suddenly grimaced and staggered. She looked like a mermaid princess whose every step on land caused unbearable pain. It didn't earn her any sympathy.
Thud—!
Yubin plucked one bottle from the pile she was carrying, then walked ahead to where his friends were already resting in the darkness.
"...Cheap bastard! Dead-inside cold bastard..."
The witch, seething with rage, glared at Yubin's back while grinding her teeth. But she soon gave up on getting help and began limping forward one painful step at a time. She knew very well that wasting more time here would only shorten the time she had to drink water and rest.
"Here."
When she finally stepped into the shadow, Yubin handed her a pack of wet wipes. The witch set the pile of bottles down with a small sigh.
"Not these... Don't you have anything cleaner? Like hand wash?"
"Zombie fluids aren't contagious. Just wipe off whatever looks dirty."
Jinwoo, who had already roughly wiped his hands and face with wipes and was drinking water, spoke up. The witch gave an irritated shrug as if holding back her anger and replied.
"I already know that basic information. I actually know way more in-depth stuff than all of you. I run a lab that specializes in researching the zombie virus and immunity. But this is a sanitation issue. If we're not careful, we could end up with food poisoning..."
"Hey! Just use the damn wipes! We're all doing the same thing! We're being nice and not punching you, so don't act like you're some honored guest!"
When Sheriff finally lost his temper and raised his voice, the witch flinched and nodded.
"Okay... I got it. But you don't need to get so hysterical, do you? We're comrades who just survived a crisis together."
The witch grumbled in a discontented tone as she pulled out wet wipes without restraint and began cleaning her hands and face. Two, three, four. Everyone swallowed their sighs as she kept pulling out fresh ones. They didn't like it, but complaining about wasting supplies would have cost more energy than it was worth.
"Don't just throw them anywhere. Put the used ones in here."
When Yubin held out a plastic bag for the used wipes, the witch curled one side of her lip in a mocking smile.
"Are you thinking about the environment? Not littering even in this situation—you're quite the environmentalist."
"Environment my ass. It's so we don't get tracked. Though... I guess you wouldn't understand that."
Sheriff clicked his tongue and tossed her a plastic water bottle.
Gulp! Gulp!
The witch greedily drained half the bottle in seconds, then let out a small moan of relief, looking like she'd finally come back to life. She glanced back worriedly at the tracks they'd walked along.
"Um... How much farther do we have to keep walking like this? At least give me a rough distance so I can prepare myself mentally."
"We don't know either."
Yubin gave a small shake of his head and continued.
"We're heading toward the area around Konkuk University station, but we have no information on how safe it is... or how many zombies there are. So steel yourself. If Konkuk looks bad, we might have to go even farther."
"That's... way too irresponsible and stupid. You mean you moved without even a Plan B? Look... instead of that, can't we return to that fake boat café from earlier? Isn't that the safe place you guys prepared?"
The witch made a despairing face and took off one of her shoes, revealing her bloodied foot.
"My feet are in a really miserable state right now. Look at this blood? It's all mine. It's not just smeared on there."
The tops of her feet, around her Achilles tendons, and even her little toes had several patches of skin peeled off, with blood still flowing. Her stockings had torn completely during the intense movement in unfamiliar shoes.
"We're not going back there."
Yubin answered firmly. The witch immediately looked like she was about to cry.
"Why? You said it yourself earlier! The Black Hawks returned to the south area! It's not dangerous there anymore!"
"But they could come back tomorrow. Or even this evening. With a much larger force. It wouldn't be strange if they'd already stationed one or two snipers. So we keep moving. For your feet... I'll give you bandages and medicine. Put them on here before we leave. It'll feel a lot better."
Yubin took a first-aid kit from his backpack and handed it to her.
"Damn it..."
The witch pressed a hand to her forehead and muttered in a tragic voice. But knowing that bandages would greatly reduce the pain, she eventually reached for the kit.
"Why aren't you requesting rescue from your boss, General Kim? Even in a situation this serious? ...Ow!"
While applying disinfectant to the raw, bleeding blister, the witch asked. Yubin rubbed his face in clear annoyance.
"I told you it has nothing to do with General Kim. How many times do I have to say it before it sinks in?"
"Then who exactly are you connected to? Whose general are you under? You can tell me honestly now."
Yubin had no idea what standard she was using to say "now." When he got too tired of dealing with her and buried his head in his backpack to look for the headlamp and flashlight, the witch pressed once more.
"It's Terra, isn't it? It's about Terra's blood, right? Just confirm that much."
"You've got a lot of questions."
Mingu, who had checked the time, pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and spoke.
"Instead of asking all that, why don't you spend some time thinking about who tried to kill you? Isn't that more important?"
"Hah...!"
The witch's hands, which had been applying the bandages, froze. It was clear he'd struck a nerve. Her lips trembled as she stared blankly into space for a moment, then she raised her hand with two fingers spread.
"Give me a cigarette too."
"Heh."
Mingu let out a short snort, lightly shook the pack so one cigarette popped up, and held it out to her. He even lit it with his Zippo.
Click—! Flick—!
She was a woman he wouldn't feel bad killing at any moment, but among smokers, that much courtesy could be extended.
"Hm?"
The witch, who had put the cigarette in her mouth and was bringing it close to the flame, widened her eyes.
"You..."
She studied Mingu's lighter carefully, then looked up at his face with a newfound gaze.
"Where did you get this?"