An Acquaintance (5)
‘……What the hell is this?’
The next morning, the Witch woke early and lay still, catching her breath as her thoughts raced.
‘Where did that muscle-head go…… and why are only the Reaper and the one-armed guy left?’
She glanced uneasily at Mingu, who sat across from her.
The uncomfortable sleeping arrangements and the tension had kept her tossing until dawn. She had only managed a brief, fitful sleep, and when she opened her eyes, both the muscle-head and the gunman had vanished. It was as if last night’s drinking session with the Sheriff had been nothing more than a dream.
The gunman and his dog being gone wasn’t much of a loss, but the real problem was that the muscle-head—who clearly liked her—had disappeared along with them. Where could he have gone?
“Um…… good morning……”
The Witch greeted Yubin, the more approachable of the two, and forced herself to speak.
“Hey…… is the muscle-head downstairs? Shouldn’t we have breakfast together?”
“Sheriff went out.”
Yubin answered curtly and pointed at the food table.
“If you’re hungry, pick whatever you want. Just don’t forget to throw the trash in that plastic bag.”
He saw no need to explain that Jinwoo and the Sheriff had left for Costco with the cooler at first light. She was a hostage, after all. The less information she had, the better.
“He went out? Where……? Is it some kind of special duty? He’s coming back soon, right?”
The Witch’s voice trembled with panic.
“Hyung, I’ll eat while keeping watch.”
Yubin didn’t bother answering. He grabbed some food and water and headed up to the roof. From now on, it was Mingu’s turn. Watching the Witch toy with the Sheriff last night, Yubin had realized one thing clearly: this woman wouldn’t show her true colors just because someone treated her kindly.
So if they wanted to speed up the negotiation, it was time for the bad cop to take over. Only then would she start clinging to the good cop—the Sheriff. Yubin refused to watch her keep sneering at him and dodging every question with her cheap tricks.
“Haa……”
Left alone with Mingu in the wide waiting area, the Witch let out a hollow sigh and lowered her head.
A bone-chilling cold seemed to radiate from the Reaper. The metallic scent of blood clung to that cold. She had tried to use the muscle-head as a shield precisely to avoid situations like this, yet here she was—abandoned.
That faithless bastard!
All night she had smiled seductively and choked down cheap liquor just to wrap that giant idiot around her finger. The thought that all that effort had gone to waste brought tears to her eyes. She was Hwang Nayeon, for God’s sake. She had promised him every luxury imaginable, smiled at him again and again, even stroked his hand with her own.
And now he had vanished without so much as a goodbye? He had promised to protect her! At the very least he could have told her when he would return!
“Not eating breakfast?”
Mingu asked. The Witch reflexively shook her head. The cheap liquor and the stale air had left her with a pounding headache; she had no appetite. Her stomach was painfully empty, but the idea of sitting down to eat alone with this Reaper was something she wanted to avoid at all costs.
“Just…… morning coffee is fine. This terrible headache……”
She started toward the bathroom, glancing nervously at Mingu, then stopped and came back out. She had forgotten to grab the flashlight and wet wipes. Adjusting to this primitive life without electricity or running water was proving difficult.
“Damn it……”
Standing in front of the bathroom mirror with the flashlight on, she wiped her face with a wet tissue and muttered curses into her hands. Facing this miserable reality again the moment she opened her eyes was unbearable.
The disgusting method of covering her waste with coffee grounds from the shop downstairs, her ruined manicure, her dry, cracked skin without even hand cream, and having to live among these crude, filthy men…… she hated all of it. Just thinking about it made her nauseous.
More importantly…… where had he gone? Why was the one-armed guy suddenly treating her so coldly?
The Witch narrowed her eyes and began to reason it out. There had to be a good reason for this sudden change. Leaving so early in the morning…… they had already brought in food and water, so why risk going out? In this zombie-infested nightmare……
Maybe they went to report to their superiors?
But why go in person? They could just turn on the radio. That didn’t make sense. And even if they needed a face-to-face report, why did the muscle-head have to go? The knife-wielding Reaper could have handled it!
Something’s wrong……
She anxiously chewed at a hangnail. There was no doubt the muscle-head had fallen for her. A woman of her caliber smiling at him, speaking to him kindly—that had probably been the most thrilling moment of his miserable life. Even if they had Terra’s blood, they had never actually met her or built any personal connection.
She had also promised him a Ferrari and a Benz last night. He might have pretended not to care, but she knew exactly how tempted he must have been. A beautiful woman and supercars—two things every man craved but could never have—offered to him all at once. His head must have been full of fantasies about a glamorous life in Busan, a real high-society existence instead of this dump.
He would have wanted to stay, of course…… if only to stay in her good graces.
So why had he left without a word…… without even promising when he would return? Someone like him should have had a fair amount of say in the group……
“Ah, I don’t know!”
She shook her head, giving up. No matter how hard she tried to reason it out, she kept hitting a wall. A cigarette would probably clear her mind, but these petty bastards wouldn’t even let her smoke without permission. How annoying!
“Um…… hey…… I’m going up to the rooftop. I just want to smoke a cigarette.”
The Witch gathered her courage and spoke to Mingu. He stared at her with cold eyes for a moment before answering in a low voice.
“We’ll go up together later when I smoke.”
It sounded like a suggestion, but it was clearly an order. He was refusing to let her smoke right now.
When is “later”? I want one now! Right now!
Anger flared inside her, but she pressed her lips shut. Her instincts warned her not to defy this scarred man. She could easily guess why he was being so hostile. He was jealous because she had only been nice to the muscle-head.
“Huuu……”
She swallowed her rising fury with a sigh and walked over to the food table, picking up a canned coffee. It was cheap, over-roasted beans artificially given a smoky flavor, but in this situation even that would have to do. At least it had caffeine.
Click—!
She opened the can and sat as far from Mingu as possible. She had taken only two sips when she heard footsteps.
Thud—!
Mingu stood up and slowly approached her.
Why? Why? Why come all the way over here in this huge waiting area?
She wanted to ask, but fear kept her silent. Pretending not to notice, she looked away and tilted the can to her lips.
Thud—!
Mingu placed his knife bag on the table and sat across from her, his expression blank as he pulled out the machete.
Shing—!
The heavy metallic sound of the blade sliding free made goosebumps rise on the Witch’s back. As if that weren’t enough, Mingu reached behind him and slowly drew the kukri as well, laying it on the table.
“Haa……! Haa……!”
Her breathing quickened.
What the hell is he doing, this crazy knife freak? Even if he’s jealous, why…… why put the knives right in front of me? What is he planning?
Hundreds, thousands of terrifying possibilities flooded her mind in an instant.
—Which one should I skin you with? You pick. It’s your skin.
She thought she heard the Reaper’s voice whispering in her ears.
“I…… I……”
You can’t kill me. I’m a valuable hostage…… No, you can’t even give me the smallest wound! My father will take a thousand times the revenge…… She wanted to say it, but her lips trembled so badly that no sound came out. Pale as death, the Witch alternated her gaze between the two large knives on the table and Mingu’s face. Then…… thud—!
Mingu pulled another metal object from the bag. This time it was a long, sturdy circular knife sharpener. He gripped it in his left hand and began sharpening the kukri in silence.
Shing—! Shing—! Chiring—!
He said nothing threatening. He didn’t even glare at her. Yet the sound alone was enough to freeze her blood. The simple, repetitive motion of drawing the blade up and down the sharpener made it all the more terrifying.
“Maybe I’ll…… have some more mineral water……”
The Witch made up an excuse and slowly began to rise from her chair. If it meant escaping this spot, she felt she could drink muddy water without hesitation. But……
“Sit.”
Mingu’s voice was cold and short, his eyes never leaving the knife.
Thud—!
She dropped back into the seat without a word. This man…… had no intention of letting her go. All the while, Mingu continued rhythmically running the kukri along the sharpener, the blade flashing. The sight was too much for the Witch; she lowered her head. Now the scraping sound seemed even louder.
Shing—! Shing—! Chiring—!
The nerve-grinding stress slowly chipped away at her patience. It had been less than thirty minutes since she realized the Sheriff was gone, yet she already missed him desperately—his broad, solid chest and shoulders, even his blunt but slightly lenient tone.
Staring at a stain on the carpet, the Witch whispered to herself like a little girl.
……Where are you, muscle-head?
“Haa……! Haa……!”
When they reached the area near Sajaejeong Station, the Sheriff was breathing hard. Jinwoo blinked and shook his head. The stench trapped in the tunnel was so thick that even the 3M dust mask couldn’t block it.
“Let’s drink again before we move. We can’t go on like this.”
The Sheriff handed the respirator to Jinwoo and reached back to open the valve on the oxygen tank strapped to his back. Jinwoo pressed the respirator to his face and took a deep breath. Clean, odorless air sealed inside the tank rushed into his airways.
Hisss—!
Grateful for the mercy of breathable air, Jinwoo drew it deep into his lungs. In the pitch-black subway platform reeking of rot, it was a welcome, refreshing change—and a preparation that could mean the difference between life and death.
“Phew……! You drink too, Sheriff!”
Jinwoo passed the respirator back after catching his breath. The Sheriff wiped the sweat from his face and pointed at Samsik-i.
“Give it to that mutt first. I’m worried he’ll suddenly keel over.”
Even with a backpack, cooler, oxygen tank, and hammer weighing him down, the dog still had energy to spare. Jinwoo didn’t argue. He held the respirator to Samsik-i’s nose and opened the valve wide.
Hisss—! Sniff—! Sniff—!
Samsik-i kept snorting but didn’t push the respirator away, quietly inhaling the clean air. To him, too, this fresh oxygen was a precious condition for survival.
“Alright…… your turn now.”
Jinwoo wiped the respirator cover and Samsik-i’s nose and drool, then handed it to the Sheriff.
“The air in here has gotten seriously bad……”
While the Sheriff inhaled, Jinwoo put his 3M mask back on and looked around. This was their third station moving only through the dark underground tracks. His breathing was getting labored, and his head was starting to spin.
“Huff, huff—! Yeah, the smell is really fucking awful.”
The Sheriff muttered curses while keeping the respirator sealed to his face. Even taking turns with the single oxygen respirator they had salvaged from the theater’s fire safety kit, the journey was grueling. Four months of decay since last summer had turned the air in the subway tunnels into a full-blown disaster zone.
If both of them wore the respirators while walking, breathing wouldn’t be a problem, but the fogged-up faceplates would drastically narrow their field of vision. In a situation where zombies could appear at any moment, that was an unacceptable risk. It was far better to hold their breath occasionally and share the respirator like this, stopping when needed.
“But…… the smell’s gotten way worse since we came this way, hasn’t it, Jinwoo?”
The Sheriff closed the oxygen tank valve and hooked the respirator back onto his backpack strap, grumbling. As they continued along the tracks, Jinwoo pointed across the platform.
“Over there…… remember that train that crashed and blocked the way? It was packed with bodies. They’ve just been rotting this whole time, so of course the stench is worse.”
“You think so?”
The Sheriff tilted his head, unconvinced.
“Even so, this is on a whole different level. Like my nose is rotting.”
“Stop worrying about the smell and focus. There are a ton of zombies around here.”
Jinwoo said, rubbing his arm where goosebumps had risen. The Sheriff snorted.
“I could’ve told you that much. I can hear that growling from here.”
Trading jokes, the two friends pressed forward through the darkness, relying only on their headlamps and the MP5’s flashlight. Ahead of them appeared the crashed train that had been blocking their path. Mangled and slammed into the tunnel wall, the subway cars lay sprawled across the tracks for dozens of meters.
“Whoa…… isn’t this a bit much?”
Shining his headlamp into the pitch-black, blood-caked interior of the cars, the Sheriff frowned. Hundreds of corpses were covered in mold and insects, creating a hellish scene too grotesque to look at directly. Fluid from the decaying bodies dripped from broken windows, forming small puddles on the floor, while the putrid gases gave off a toxicity on par with chemical weapons.
“Huu……! Let’s get past this quickly.”
Jinwoo swallowed his rising nausea and tapped the Sheriff’s shoulder. They had known from the start that they would have to cross this section. It was far worse than it had been in summer, but once they got through, it would be over soon enough.
Tap—!
The Sheriff stepped onto the wall and leapt lightly onto the top of the crashed train. Standing on the roof, he shone his headlamp across to the opposite tracks and muttered.
“Hey, Jinwoo…… we can’t go this way.”