Chapter Text
‘What the fuck was that?’ Chan rasps, crouched on the metal floor of the greying yellow school bus. His eyes are wide and searching, piercing through the window to focus on the tree line for any movement.
They’re all heaving, chests chasing the oxygen that eludes them. He feels a cough growing in his dry throat.
‘I don’t know.’ Changbin’s voice is watery but his gaze is unblinking from the stretch of tar road before them. His shoulders cover his neck.
‘Zombies.’ Han Jisung is the first one to whisper the words, to confirm everything.
Bang Chan has always thought the apple haired boy was a bit weird — if his antics at school are anything to go by — but none of them can deny it. There’s no other plausible explanation for the things that attacked them — the things that looked candidly similar to the creatures from Train to Busan.
It was supposed to be just another boring day at camp: all the seniors wishing they could just go home and the teachers having the time of their lives. But the things suddenly materialized, all ten of them, and almost as abruptly as they’d arrived, they’d taken down most of their classmates leaving only the inhabitants of the fast pushing school bus who barely escaped, even then.
‘It had no eyes,’ Yang Jeongin mutters loud enough so they can hear. Swallowing thickly, he goes: ‘they had no eyes.’
It’s terrifying enough, Chan thinks, that these things some sort of carnivores with an inane craving for human flesh but they just had to have no eyes, absolutely none. Empty sockets for where they should be. Not to mention uncountable disgusting pores scattered over their skin, oozing grey pus, maggot-like creatures dancing in and out, veins bulging like corpses.
The things were fast. They ran, although lopsided, to the first humans their hands could reach and unfortunately, it happened to be the physical education teacher, Mr. Wu. The fact the entire senior class was on a hiking trip when the attack happened did not help at all. The creatures managed to get lost in a sea of school uniforms and began devouring.
Mere minutes had passed, and through the mess of mass screaming and stumbling over one another, those who’s jugulars or arms and more had been ripped off began to make it a chain. By the time they’d made it out of the forest to the school bus (Changbin had snagged the key) most of the students had become trembling monsters.
It was the most gruesome sight he’d ever witnessed in all his eighteen years. The blood stains on their uniforms are proof. Out of a class of fifty, only ten got out.
Chan’s fingers weave into Minho’s shirt, gripping for his life as he eyes Changbin who looks as though he might pass out at any given moment. A few rows back, Kim Seungmin taps on his phone to the point of bristling irritation, brows clenched as he pushes dark brown hair, mirroring all of theirs, from his eyes.
‘What’re you doing?’ Lee Felix’s deep baritone is low with fear. His feet constantly rise and fall from the ground with anxious rhythm.
Seungmin doesn’t look up from his phone. ‘If something like this is happening, the government has to know, right? I’m checking the news for anything but it’s slow because I barely have signal.’
Chan removes his eyes from Changbin — the driver’s hands are drumming on the wheel and Chan is a little worried they might crash but Seungmin’s motive is more important.
After a minute of walking around the bus, phone to the ceiling and incessant cursing, Seungmin finally makes a noise of satisfaction. He clicks on something and increases the volume.
It’s a video but Chan doesn’t make to look. The prime minister’s voice come on.
‘…don’t know what these things are or where they’ve come from. Our scientists are conducting research and have been since the first appearance three days ago. We do not know the statistics yet but there have been a growing number of missing person cases and fatalities and so we are issuing a mandatory indefinite lockdown effective as soon as possible. We are aware the sudden attacks are as result of a strain but know nothing further than that. We are working hand in hand with medical personnel from the United States of America and China to find a cure as soon as possible.’
There’s a crackle and rise in voices but one rings clear.
‘Are there any known symptoms of the virus?’
‘Studies so far show that symptoms include first hand symptoms of the flu but eye witness reports also speak of nosebleed and, er, pencil sized pores opening on the skin where these worm parasites have the liberty to feed on their hosts.’ More questions rise and Chan peeks just enough to see someone whispering something to the prime minister who appears crestfallen. He collects a paper from their hands and turns back to the podium, clears his throat and continues. ‘We have just learned that the symptoms are methodical: stage one, the flu. Stage two, nosebleed and pores, stage three, the liquidation of optic senses and the—‘ he takes a deep breath. ‘The laying of eggs in the empty eye sockets from which they proceed to the brain to control their mindless host at stage four. All this and under thirty minutes. The main goal of these creatures are reproduction.’
An uproar begins shortly after that. The camera pans to the audience of reporters who look appalled and terrified. From the swirling feeling in his stomach, Chan mirrors. He glanced at Changbin who looks faint. (Jesus, Chan should really go take the wheel).
One voice manages to shout, ‘is there a name for this virus?’
‘Yes. Dokkam-157. Any more questions?’
‘How long do you think it’ll take for the situation to be dealt with?’
‘Unfortunately, I am unable to give a specific estimate but as I mentioned, a mandatory lockdown has been put in place. Food items and necessary essentials will be air-delivered to citizens until then. Civilians are advised to stay inside and if they catch eight of these hosts, to call the Seoul National Pandemic hotline at 0034. Thank you and may God save us all.’
‘Sir! Sir!—‘
The video abruptly cuts off and everyone looks to Seungmin who shakes his head heavily. ‘That’s it.’ Then he stares at his phone strangely. ‘Guys, this was posted four days ago.’
A tense silence descends on them as they mule over the words.
‘Fuck.’ Hwang Hyunjin breathes. ‘Fuck, fuck, what the fuck!’ His hands tug at his hair.
‘How did we not know this?’ Felix mouths.
‘Camp.’ Han Jisung murmurs, breathing heavily. ‘It’s that fucking camp.’ He shouted.
Beside Chan, Minho flinches and buries his head into his hands. From the shaking in his shoulders, one doesn’t need a textbook to know he was sobbing. Chan’s heart squeezes.
He never wanted to go to that godforsaken mandatory senior camp but his parents would sooner die than let him skip anything school related and so they were trapped in an oasis of green, lucky enough to see a bar once every blue moon — not like they were allowed their phones anyway (teacher’s were strict) but those who’d snuck electronics in couldn’t even indulge. So it isn’t a wonder they were out of loop with the real world.
His hands find Minho’s hair and stroke.
Seungmin continued walking up and down the bus searching for a sliver of signal.
‘God, I can’t even remember the symptoms anymore. My brain is too frazzled.’ Sonya speaks up from the back of the bus.
With her wild hair and disheveled clothes, she does appear frazzled. Not like any of them are better off. While Yang Jeongin fills her in, Chan returns to Changbin.
‘Where the hell are we even going?’
‘I don’t know, okay!’ The driver responds, voice wet with tears. His grip on the wheel have turned his knuckles white. ‘Just far, far away from here.’
‘Do we go home? We live really far. What if it’s worse in the city?’ Felix’s rhythm has grown in pace.
Everyone is out of it.
‘We’ll figure it out. We just need to get out of here.’
Chan appreciates Changbin being a strong voice in spite of how affected he is. He takes a deep breath and decides as the oldest senior to contemplate their next move. They’re going fast enough that the trees are surely dwindling and he can see the open road in a mirage a few paces away.
He shifts Minho and himself from the floor and they find a seat behind Han Jisung. He thinks. What are they supposed to do in a situation like this?
The bus is once again absorbed in a growing tense silence occasionally broken by Seungmin’s feet on the floor in search for signal or Minho’s sniffles and Felix’s tapping. Chan tries to ignore his own shaking hands.
Focus! Think! You’re not class president because you’re cute!
But the thought of being class president makes him look at his bloody uniform and remember the massacre he just witnessed which in turn threatens to send him on a spiral so he takes even deeper breaths, chest inflating.
As he thinks over the next course of action, the bus suddenly brakes sending them all flying a couple of inches forward.
They’re not given time to recover.
‘Guys—‘ Changbin whispers in a strained voice. ‘Look.’
Chan gets up on wobbly legs and stares ahead. The driver has every reason to be wide eyed. Stretched in front of them are the remains of their precious capital. Broken windows, smoke filled sky. The grey streets are void of living humans and filled with abandoned cars with bloody windshields and bloody bodies.
A shuddering feeling passes over him creating bumps on his skin.
But that’s not what they’re looking at.
He hears it before he sees it: the moaning, the gnawing, the gnashing, the snapping.
Bones, teeth, flesh.
There are a hoard of things scattered in the horizon before them, too many to count. They’ve blocked the road and they’re coming straight at them.
‘We’re all gonna die.’ Jeongin reconciles. ‘We’re all gonna fucking die!’
‘Shut up, Yang. No one is dying today!’ Chan declares in a bursts, standing suddenly.
The younger boy goes to say more when suddenly a muffled scream comes from the front. He turns to look at Changbin who has his sleeve in his mouth, gaze pointed at the front. The things have began running and they’re fast.
He swallows.
‘What do we do? I can go through. There’s too many!’
‘It’s the bus. I think they’re attracted to the sound.’ Seungmin offers, pressed against one of the windows. ‘But if we kill the engine, they’ll corner us and if we try to restart, they’ll know we’re here.’
Chan squeezes his eyes shut and blurts. ‘Head back, I’ll take the wheel.’
Minho finally speaks. ‘Wait, what?’ He tugs on Chan’s sleeve harshly. ‘You can’t— you can’t be in front. You can’t—‘ take the brunt, he doesn’t say.
He cups the brunette’s face in his hands and trains their eyes together. ‘It’s okay. It’ll be okay.’
Chan doesn’t wait for an answer and Changbin doesn’t think twice before he barrels backwards — relegating the role of hero to the oldest who, as he nears the drivers seat, begins to blanch. What the hell is he doing putting all these people’s lives in his hands. He can’t do this. He isn’t made to be the main character.
But one look at the shuddering group of people behind him and especially Minho has him putting the bus in reverse. The large metal rolls backwards for what seems like an eternity, the things follow, teeth gnashing and bones snapping. When they’re enough yards away, he shifts the gear and voices: ‘You might want to wear your seatbelts’
He gives them a few seconds, does the same and then steps on it.
The bus lurches forward with insane speed that picks up the longer his feet stays on the accelerator. The speedometer reads sixty and then eighty and a hundred and by the time the first body hits the bumper and flies over the roof, they’re going one hundred and twenty miles per hour.
The crunching of bones are a sound that will always haunt Chan; they ring in his ears and body parts fly everywhere. He hits any and everything in his path. A detached limbs hits his windshield then over the roof and out. He winced at the splurge of blood on the glass and breathes deeply.
The bus makes several twists and turns through several abandoned roads and they lose a number of the things but the noise from the vehicle rouses new ones and before he’s aware a little over seventy are on their tail from every corner they turn.
‘Oh, god.’ He catches someone mutter.
‘How are they still getting closer?’ Sonya screeches in disbelief, zeroed in on the back glass where she catches more of them running after the bus.
Chan is going fast enough, he should’ve lost them by now.
He looks into the rear view mirror and in a smidge, he sights numerous non humans trailing after them. They’re really fast for a bunch of mindless virus infested leeches. They’re never this fast in movies, he thinks. Another turn and the bus drives through a narrow alleyway; through clothes on ropes, bodies on grimy mold infested floor.
He steps even harder on the glass and watches the speedometer hand reach the ending. It takes a minute but they lose most of the creatures and his shoulders sag.
Another turn and there’s more waiting for them at the end of the road.
He notices his hands shaking when he looks back for a second — only a second, really — to make sure Minho is fine. The brunette is holding on to his seatbelt for his dear life.
‘Watch out!’ Han Jisung’s voice comes milliseconds before.
Chan feels the crash before he realizes it. The bus slams into one of abandoned cars in the middle of the road and sends everyone flying forward to come in contact with whatever lay in front of them. Chan feels his head collide with the steering before his seatbelt and airbag pushes him back to his seat. The bag comes in direct contact with his nose and he hears a crack.
A creaking sound comes from somewhere inside the bus but is quickly swallowed by groans both in and outside of it, especially the ones coming from Chan’s mouth. He brings a hand up slowly to touch his forehead. There’s a wet patch on his hair and when he looks at his fingers, they’re stained red. It’s hurts to breathe, he quietly registers. Everything hurts.
He stands, regardless, feeling woozy and seeing double. He hold on to his unclipped seatbelt for grounding. His arm has gashes in it from pieces of glass due to the windshield cracking.
‘Everyone okay?’ He asks, then a beat. ‘Min?’
‘We’re fine.’ Seungmin answers in a heavy voice for them, cursing soon after. A couple of coughs and extra groans are heard before a series of affirmations.
‘Okay, good. Sorry about that, didn’t see the car.’ His voice his hoarse and every time he breathes, tears sting his eyes. ‘But we have to go now. I think they’ve doubled and they’re really close.’
This alerts the group and they all spring up suddenly. Chan stumbles to Minho and pulls him towards the doors. He presses a button and they hiss open. He helps the brunette down first before returning for the rest and one by one (they’ve all sustained minor injuries), he limps them to solid ground. The noises have multiplied, scratching their ears with how repellent they are. The creatures are coming from the front of them so they decide to make their way right on the forked road.
The sound of padding feet on pavement and low multiple groaning fills the smoky Seoul sky. He’s not even sure where they’re going but he ushers them through the open road, panting for breath and wincing every time he did.
‘Over there!’ Changbin shouts, pointing at a decent looking house in the distance. ‘Maybe we can—‘
He’s interrupted by the sound of gnashing coming from the direction he’s referring to. Pouring out from numerous back alleys are even more creatures and behind them, the ones they left are gaining speed. They’re trapped.
Dilapidated cars surround them but none look sturdy enough to hold ten high school students and protect them again the cannibals waiting to savor their flesh.
‘Oh my god!’ Hyunjin gasps in disbelief. ‘We’re gonna fucking die.’
‘They’re getting closer. What do we do?’
In the moment Minho asks the question, everyone immediately looks at Chan. Surprised, he flounders for a second before pulling himself together. On the ground, there are several iron rods scattered about that look like they could do some damage. He picks one up.
‘Everyone grab something.’ He demands.
They hurry to hold the weighty objects in their hands and as they do, he can see the fear and fatalism on their faces. His stomach clenches and he puts on his best student president voice.
‘Huddle together. We need to be in a circle so we can get them from all sides.’
They fall into place like pieces on a chess board. The things are only a few inches away now and Chan is almost as sure as everybody else that they’re going to die here, in the middle of a broken world surrounded by grimy alleyways. His fingers find Minho’s.
‘It’ll be okay.’ He whispers through a long-suffering breath.
The boy nods.
Just when the things reach a few inches of them, they hear the sound of screeching tires on concrete followed by the thud a body makes when it’s slammed against a car. And then the unmistakable sound of gunshots has them reeling.
A clearing has been made in the middle. There’s a bloody black car waiting for them and in the drivers seat, a buff man whose fingers are tickling a semi automatic. The two back doors are open.
They stand frozen for a second until he shouts:
‘Well, don’t just stand there. Get in!’
They’re still struggling to catch their breaths a few minutes into the drive and it’s that guffawing that fills the otherwise silent SUV, up until the man in front begins to whistle an unfamiliar tune. He’s young, not more than twenty something if looks are anything to go by, and his shoulders are relaxed, fingers drumming against the wheel.
Chan envíes him.
Sonya is sitting on Seunghwan’s lap (they’re all balancing each other in the cramped Land Rover) and she leans forward so her head peeks from in between the driver and passengers seat.
‘Thank you so much, sir. If it weren’t for you…’
The memory is still fresh on their minds: they’d all grabbed a seat in the car in milliseconds, stumbling over each other, some moving over to the third seats in the trunk area. They’d escaped by the skin of their teeth.
The man’s eyes remained on the rubbish filled road.
‘Call me Dong-in.’ He offers, drumming on the wheel. Chan is cramped in front with Minho so he gets a perfect view of their savior. Slanted jaws, coffee eyes searching every corner. He looks strikingly like Eunwoo of Astro, the Korean band he listens to. Maybe he’s not so relaxed. ‘You wanna tell me what the hell happened back there? How can you be stupid enough to waltz into an infected area reeking of blood and making so much noise? I heard the crash from a mile away.’
‘We were on a two week school camping trip. We didn’t know there’d be flesh eating humans when we came back.’ Jeongin says sarcastically, then squeezes his eyes shut. ‘Thank you.’
Dong-in is amused, Chan can see it from the small smile playing on his lips.
‘I’m just glad you’re safe and no one’s been bitten.’ His tone turns serious and his eyes narrow. ‘Right?’
‘Right.’ Chan affirms. ‘They never got close enough. We’re just hurt from the crash.’
As if just noticing his presence, Dong-in’s eyes find his face for a split second and they linger as his gaze undresses Chan. He hums.
He says, ‘Your nose is twisted.’ Chan winces as he touches his crooked nose, as if it hasn’t been hurting all the while. Minho looks up at him. ‘We’ll take care of it when we get back.’
Chan wants to ask where back is but Seunghwan is speaking for the first time since both their narrow escapes.
‘Do you know how this all began?’ He asks meekly.
Dong-in shakes his head. ‘No one knows. Everything was fine until almost two weeks ago. The first case was at the metro station and you can imagine how that went. So many people got infected, there was a live footage.’ Chan physically sees a shudder run through him. ‘That was before the media went dead, anyway. All we know is that they’re only attracted to sound and the smell of blood and they reproduce within minutes. Most of the capital is already whatever they are.’
‘The prime minister called them parasites.’ Jisung supplies, wringing his hands.
‘Yeah, ‘cause that’s what they are. They’re the parasites and we’re the hosts.’
Chan swallows. His eyes are focused through the window and with the entire surrounding looking like a dystopian nightmare, he’s sure the older man isn’t so far off. There are dead bodies on the ground with worms wriggling in and out. Even in death, they cannot be left alone.
‘And the lockdown?’ He turns to the driver and asks.
Dong-in snorts. ‘That failed. People were scared and eager to get away from the center of carnage. I don’t need to tell you how that went. Doesn’t help that the parasites broke into houses. Government went quiet since then.’
The car silently rolls into a thick black canopy which falls behind them locking them in complete darkness as Dong-in kills the engine. He grabs a flashlight from the dashboard and goes to put four padlocks at the base in place and urges the kids to get down.
‘We’re here.’ He declares, gun tucked in his armpit.
He walks with the flashlight to the third wall and flips a switch which ignites the room in a mess of light; having come from a cool evening, the instantaneous ambush stings but they eventually get used to it.
It’s a garage set up. Or, a garage, really. Just with a lockable flapping canopy that blocks the main retractable garage door, securing them completely. Although there is a ground level window that leads to the outside on the right side but it’s locked and blocked with a curtain.
At the base of the left wall is a door which Dong-in locks behind him once they enter. Behind the white door are a set of descending steps that seem to go on forever. They eventually reach the bottom and minimal lighting greets them along with a spacious living room and several doors that lead to several rooms.
‘Underground bunker. I was in the military.’ Dong-in answers their unasked questions.
They make their way to an open spaced kitchen. The room are really large and the lights are dim: there’s space for everyone. Dong-in sits Chan on a bar stool and returns with some first aid kits, rubbing alcohol and a small bucket.
He hands Chan the bucket. ‘You’ll want to vomit soon. You look like you have a concussion.’
Feels like it, too, Chan thinks as his vision blurs. He’s glad his body stalled until it felt safe enough to confront him with the after effects. He grips on to the bucket for dear life.
Dong-in touches his nose and he grimaces. ‘This is going to hurt.’ The older man says. ‘A lot.’
Before he’s even given time to ask, he hears and feels a crunching and popping sound. He screams. It hurts worse than anything his ever felt before and salty tears freely leave his eyes. Blood is oozing out of his nostrils by the time he comes to and perceives Minho’s hands are squeezing his.
He hears Dong-in apologise through his string of curses but he unexpectedly recognizes that he can breathe better. He wipes blood from his nose and stand on whimpering legs to blindly make way to the living room and collapse on the floor.
He catches Sonya taking care of the other’s wounds from the corner of his eye and wonders how she can do it.
A few minutes later and Dong-in appears in the living room with canned food and water, placing it in Minho’s hands. ‘You both should eat and then I’ll take care of your wounds. You guys also need a shower.’
‘Thank you.’ Minho tries to sound as sincere as possible, thumbing Dong-in’s palm before he leaves. He struggles to get Chan in the right state of mind to eat and they devour the canned meat.
He tunes into a conversation coming from the kitchen.
‘Uh, how do you still have electricity and running water?’ It’s Sonya, soft. ‘I saw the power lines were destroyed on our way.’
‘Ah, the bunker runs on a generator, pumps water directly from the ground. I don’t use it too much, though.’
Minho feels something twist in him: guilt. The older man will have to now that he’s housing ten students.
There’s a beat of silence, then Sonya continues: ‘Dong-in-ssi, aren’t you going to eat with us?’
‘It’s fine. You all need it more.’
Another twist.
He peeks to see Sonya has outstretched her own can. ‘We all need to eat.’
Dong-in stares at her for a beat more than necessary. ‘You’re sweet.’ And they share.
It’s a nice interaction — one that takes his mind off everything that has happened and is happening. He feels Chan’s head rest on his shoulder and breathes deeply. The situation they’ve found themselves in is unnerving and he wants more than anything to wake up, to go back to his old life where all the students in the room ignored each other like a plague, where he had only a few friends and hated his parents but at least wasn’t fighting for his life constantly.
But he breathes and he’s still here in this underground bunker with what’s left of his school and a stranger kind enough to save and share a life with it and his boyfriend’s head on his shoulder being the only thing keeping him from breaking down.
After a while, everyone finishes their cans of food and joins the couple in the living room. The set up is a roomy clearing with a couch that forms a circle around a large glass table on a rug. There’s a television above the fireplace and a minibar. The dark blue walls are cool from being built in the earth. The sofa manages to fit them all.
They eventually take turns taking as short as possible showers. Minho goes with Chan (to save water, he says when the others notice his rosy cheeks) but it’s also so his disoriented boyfriend doesn’t slip and manage to die after evading a hoard of zombies. (It still feels weird calling them that).
Dong-in lends them his clothes and due to his buff build, it swallows their shrill frames but there isn’t room to complain since the articles are clean and warm even with most of the sleeves and trousers rolled up. When he and Chan finish up their shower in the master bedroom, they join the house owner in the living room. He sets Chan up to sleep on a couple sofa pillows on the floor and he joins Dong-in.
‘Thank you, really.’ He says while watching the man mess with some military grade communication equipment as Seungmin still searches for a signal.
‘Nah, you got it. Your friend looked like he had a great plan.’
Minho laughs at the subtle jab then feels a clasp on the back.
‘But really, I respect your courage. You weren’t going down without a fight and that’s what separates survivors from those things.’
The younger boy goes to say something when Seungmin suddenly belts.
‘Finally, a signal!’ Everyone instantly peeks up and gathers around him. Seungmin stays unmoving from his position halfway up the bunker stairs and he dials a number but it goes dead a few times.
Suddenly, an alert of a voicemail dating a few days ago comes in and they all hear the announcement loud and clear. Seungmin presses play and from the way every colour drains from his face, Minho almost wishes he would’ve basked in the ignorance a little longer.
The voice comes in staticky crackles.
‘..ome. Don’t your dare come home! Oh god, they’re everywhere…hide…we should— sister…so find your sister, Min…love you…I can’t…Kyujin…please no — oh god, no—‘ a loud crash echoes in the background and the message cuts off abruptly, ending the ramble of breathless words and what sounded like running.
Seungmin is frozen, has been for a while now. The room is dead with tentative, grueling silence. The first tear falls and seals everything. The boy falls to the ground with it in a heap and Hyunjin only barely manages to catch him. There’s so much in Seungmin’s eyes but what Minho can recognize is the anger because he’s feeling it too. Hyunjin hugs the sobbing boy, fingers in his hair and he just allows him to cry.
Somehow, they all understood. None of them in the room even know what has become of their family and Seungmin’s voicemail more or less stamps the fact that perhaps it’s the same.
Through the sobs and sniffles that attack the room, the radio on the table crackles to life.
‘I’ve been searching for a signal on that thing for so long.’ Dong-in’s mutter breaks through the heavy pain filled crying.
A light voice comes on in the middle of a broadcast. ‘…security. I repeat, this is Musen 11FM, I am Wu Taeil. This is a message to any survivors searching for a safe place. Make your way to Building 63 in Dum-San District. There’s an abundance of food, water and security. I repeat, this is Musen 11FM, I am Wu Taeil…’
The prerecorded message continues to play as they look at each other in silence, dissolving the words.
‘Do—‘ Felix stutters. ‘Do we go?’
‘If what they promised is true, then it might be the best option.’ Sonya muses, chewing on her inner cheeks.
‘But what if it isn’t? What if we trust a prerecorded radio message and we get there and maybe it’s full or they’re already raided?’
Everyone grows quiet at the possibility.
‘Plus, do we even know where Building 63 is exactly?‘ Seunghwan adds.
‘Yeah. It’s an agricultural tourist attraction. My dad and I go there sometimes. It’s huge, overnight hotel rooms that house thousands and all. It’s like three times the size of Songai Farm.’ Minho answers, tapping his feet.
‘Okay so we know they didn’t lie about refuge so say we do want to go? How are we going to get there? Dum-San is at the border of the city.’ Sonya poses yet another concern.
They mule over it once again before Minho turns to Dong-in. ‘What do you think?’
All eyes fleet to the older man who shrugs. ‘I also think it’s the best option but we can’t make a decision on the whim. We’re going to need a couple of days to really think things through.’
The kids all murmur their agreement.
He continues. ‘In between that, we can begin a short defense training. I know this is a really weird question to ask high schoolers and I’ll probably be shocked if any of you say yes but does anyone here know how to use a gun?’
There’s a beat of silence before Minho, Felix and Sonya raise a hand planting surprised expressions on the rest.
A twinkle forms in Dong-in’s eyes. ‘Perfect.’
Thud.
Chan’s eyes slowly flicker open. He grunts lowly and mutters to himself, glancing at the digital clock on the center glass. Another thud. Who the hell is making so much noise at four fifteen AM?
He rises, grumpy and groggy, and grabs a flashlight from beneath the table. He aims at the sleeping bodies scattered about him on sofas and the floor one by one. He knows their sleeping positions now after it being almost three weeks.
Every day in those weeks have been spent perfecting Felix, Minho and Sonya’s skills and teaching the rest. It was almost fun, until they remember why they were training. It was a standard South Korean military grade training and as fun as it was, the difficult level was more than they’d ever encountered (although the highest physical thing Chan has done is p.e and, okay, sex).
They weren’t pros all of a sudden but they were able to perform basic and intermediate combat, and they had the right form for close range shooting, far range was more difficult (Han Jisung shot Yang Jeongin once and even though they used rubber bullets for practice, the younger boy still flinches whenever Jisung holds a gun).
Other times, they practice with dummies using harp weaponry like knives and daggers. Chan’s cut his fingers more times than he can count and since they’re saving on supplies, he has to just suck up the blood with his mouth but it hardly matters when he’s the best at it.
Dong-in evaluates what field they’re best at: Sonya, Minho and his brother Felix are best at machine combat, Chan and Seungmin and Jeongin are best at sharp weaponry, Changbin and Hyunjin are best at physical combat, Jisung and Seunghwan are better at no contact combat so the bows and arrows are reserved for them. There’s impromptu defense tests to always keep them on their toes. Chan feels like an action movie character.
But now as he’s counting all the heads slowly and coming up with eleven every time, it feels more like a horror movie.
It’s a two bedroom bunker but they’ve all gotten used to sleeping together from the first night so it’s not surprising that there are eleven, including his, heads in the room. His hands shake as they point at the direction where the sound is coming from.
Another thud sounds on the staircase. There’s a door at the entrance abs exit of it so he cannot see what’s coming but he knows. Chan knows.
He wakes the older man first, hands clamped tightly on Dong-in’s mouth as he shakes him. Alarmed, the military man wakes with a start, reaching for the pistol he never removes from his pocket when Chan shushes him quietly. The movement almost knocks down the alarm on the glass table.
It doesn’t fall but it does wake Sonya and Seunghwan who are sleepy enough to groan loudly.
Chan pushes a pillow on their faces. The thudding from outside gets closer.
It doesn’t take long for everyone to wake into a confused haze. Chan’s heart is thumping with the amount of noise they’re making and he finds Minho to grip him, afraid.
The thudding has morphed to harsh thumping against the door. The group stills.
‘Who the fuck is that?’ Hyunjin whispers harshly, fully awake all of a sudden.
Dong-in looks tired and exasperated. He runs a hand through his face and grips his gun. ‘I think you mean what.’
‘You think it’s a…’ Han Jisung doesn’t finish but they all know the words on his mind.
‘Zombie? Yeah.’
‘How the hell did it get down here? We always make sure to secure everything and Jeongin was on lock duty today so—‘ Changbin cuts off his rambling with enlarged eyes and turns to stare at the you get boy who shrinks under their gaze.
‘The window,’ Jeongin’s voice is impossibly small. ‘We were so busy with training and I—‘
‘Forgot to lock the fucking ground level window, Yang?’ Changbin shouts quickly, forgetting to their predicament.
Footsteps increase and the sound of something rolling and banging against the door resounds. They all flinch and move back instinctively. Minho’s hand is shaking in Chan’s. He squeezes.
‘Now is not the time to okay the blame game.’ Dong-in scolds and moves to turn on the stairwell light. He walks to the dodo and looks through the peephole only to move back and take a shuddering breath.
‘There are two that I can see so far but I think one fell halfway and is at the base of the stairwell door.’ He explains. Dong-in looks at his gun for a split second before sighing and letting his hand fall.
Confused, Chan questions, ‘What are we going to do?’
The man looks up at him. ‘It’s too close range for a gun. Shooting in a crammed space is never a good idea, plus I don’t want the sound to attract more of them. We’re going to need a close contact ambush.’
Chan feels his throat close up at the words because he knows what the implications are. He feels a squeeze on his hands and looks up to find Minho’s eyes already searching his own, pushing forth any form of comfort he can.
‘So knives.’ Seungmin summarizes.
‘Yeah.’ Dong-in nods. ‘Knives.’
The plan is simple. Or at least the way the older man explains it is. They’ve trained for an ambush before, granted only once or twice, but Chan know — is supposed to know — what to do on such escapades. After all the nights of feeling terrified when Dong-in goes on a supply run, worried that what might come back won’t be their leader, he should be used to it. He should’ve gotten past the tremor in his chest by now, counting seconds as minutes, waiting for the door to be yanked open.
The thumping is continuous now, with a rhythm. He doesn’t understand why they have to attack. They should be safe for some time, not a long time but enough to come up with a better plan that isn’t on the whim. No matter how hard the things outside try, they won’t be able to break in. The door is reinforced. But he’s too cowardly to stay anything so he assumes position.
‘On three.’ Dong-in says. ‘One…’ Chan grips the large knife tighter. ‘Two…’ Seungmin squares his back beside him and Jeongin swallows. ‘Three.’
The zombies fall over and the pungent odor hits the room in seconds. It smells like dried skin and expired cheese in a way that Chan can’t explain. The things are quick to stand, though and gnashing and grinding fills the room. The sound is electrifying, almost more than Chan can bear. He squeezes the knife and lunges at the one closest to him.
The metal buries into the things chest and grey pus sprays Chan directly in the face. He grimaces but pushes the knife in deeper. The teeth are still snapping and even though he’s pushes back with all of his strength, he can smell the disgusting odor from the mouth, can see the blood filled teeth and gums. He steps back, pulls out the knife and stabs it in the head.
Chan can’t imagine the shrill whine he hears before the things falls.
He’s breathing heavily, trapped in some kind of daze. He looks to see Seungmin struggling but as he goes to lend a hand, he slips on a flashlight and falls with a thud.
‘Look out!’
He doesn’t have time to anticipate it as the one on Jeongin makes for him, slamming him down further. Chan’s knife has skidded away a considerable distance in the chaos and it takes all of his stretch the to keep the things mouth away from him body.
‘I can’t get a clear shot!’ He hears Jisung say, although it sounds more like garbled noise with the way his ear is ringing.
Chan hates the snapping and grinding sound being emitted directly to his ear. He hates the way his eyes are blurry from tears and the way his chest rocks from repeated slamming. He hates how helpless he feels.
He feels the thing heave above him and sputter. Minho is there and he’s stabbing it continuously, more than Chan can count. He stabs until the creature has gotten limp, stabs until the body shakes with force. His boyfriend just keeps going, tears in his eyes.
Chan pushes the dead body off of him and clambers to bring Minho into his arms. He’s sobbing, Minho is sobbing, all the kids are sobbing. Yet again another scary moment in his life and he blanches.
‘You’re okay.’ He whispers to Minho, although it’s more for himself as well. ‘You’re okay.’
‘Is everyone alright?’ Dong-in asks, kicking the thing that attacked Seungmin which he killed.
‘I’m fine. Just a little scratch.’ Seunghwan says.
Before anyone can say anything, two more parasites stumble past the threshold, snarling like animals. This time, Han Jisung is quick to fire an arrow and Jeongin, being the closest to, stabs the head. The initial shock is slowly wearing off.
‘Jesus.’ Hyunjin mutters.
Seungmin is the one to say it. ‘We have to get out of here. If five can easily get in, it’s only a matter of time before we forget to lock it again and then it might not be five.’
Dong-in breathes heavily and they know the decision as already been made.
‘My stomach hurts.’ Sonya comments for the fifth time in a minute. Dong-in passes by her and presses a palm to her forehead.
‘You don’t seem to have a fever.’ He frowns. ‘I’ll get the medicine anyway.’
He went to retrieve the kit while the rest of the kids began loading what was left of the supplies I to the SUV. They’d all cleaned up — especially Chan — and packed clothes, food, water and what remained of machinery then the hand held weapons. The sun had come up, shining through the windows, by the time they’d finished.
Seunghwan’s scratch was disinfected and even though no one said it, they all held their breaths the first thirty minutes, worried to see a nosebleed or the opening of skin. But none came and they could finally breathe again.
As Dong-in and Sonya go down to grab the rest of the stuff, she heads to the bathroom and only a few moments later, he hears a light curse. He nears the door and knocks gently.
‘Everything alright?’
A shuddering breath and silence follow before she speaks up lowly. ‘I’m…my period came. Im sorry, my period came.’
He pauses. Okay, this is a problem. He’s a man with a shortage on pads and tampons and she’s a girl with an overflow of blood bound to attract this parasites lurking outside. This is a big problem.
‘How long does it usually last?’
‘Three days.’
An idea hits him. ‘Alright, I’ll be right back.’
He goes to the car and picks out two large cotton sweaters from an abundant stash and a pair of scissors. Lining them together, he cuts them into various large strips in a line and folds the strips into two, tucking them into each other. He finds a nylon and stuffs the rest inside then he meets her in the bathroom with one.
‘This should soak up the blood for a while. I have about twenty more so if you use two a day, it should last you for two days. I’ll give you something for your stomach when your done cleaning up. And I’ll bring a fresh pair of clothes.’
The younger girl’s head is peeking from behind the door and he can see her bottom lips shaking. She swallows air.
‘Thank you so much, Dong-in. Really. This is the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me.’
A soft smile plays on his lips. ‘Don’t sweat it.’
He leaves to go get the clothes and makes up some poor excuse for the group on why they were taking more time than necessary. They’ve loaded everything into the car and sorted out the sitting arrangements. Two in front, five at the back and three in the trunk pushed alongside the supplies they packed even as some of the things would sit on the laps of those in the middle seat.
Sonya returns a few minutes later and they set on the road. The GPS says they’re more miles than the gas can carry to Building 63. And that’s without the things wanting to eat them being part of the equation. Dong-in makes sure to lock everywhere and turn off all the lights.
Just in case, he doesn’t say.
The car is silent as they drive. The streets are decrepit but void of any more parasites. Yet, it somehow looks worse than when they’d first escaped into the bunker. As they drive, Chan can almost see how beautiful it once was, he’s pulled back to the drive in the school bus on their way to the campsite: beautiful structures and gleaming green trees. Now everything has been reduced to dust.
He’s hit with the overwhelming need to go home. He wishes he would’ve picked up the phone from Seungmin and tried home but the fear held him back, the recognition that everybody in the room lived on the same street, the same street where Seungmin’s family was undoubtedly turned into the cannibals they’d barely escaped from.
But he hates that he still has a little hope. He hates that everything still feels like a nightmare he’s going to wake from. He’s pulled out of his reverie with a wracking cough that comes from the backseat. It’s Seunghwan. The coughing goes on for a while and it sounds like it hurts. Seunghwan rolls down the window to spit out phlegm.
Minho twists to look at him. ‘You good?’
Seunghwan nods but the sickly look that has ravaged his body betrays him. He looks exhausted, droopy eyes did. Another cough rocks him and Jeongin who is closest to him rubs his back.
‘Thanks.’ Seunghwan wheezes.
Minho’s brows rise in concern. ‘Dong-in, do we have any fever medicine? I think he has the flu.’
The words ring something in Chan. His eye narrow to slits and he goes to speak.
‘In the kit. Jeongin, check the flap behind my seat.’ Dong-in cuts in, focused on driving.
The medicine is handed to the sickly boy along with a bottle of water from the front seat cupholder. He swallows it down seconds before another cough shakes his frame.
‘You’re alright.’ Minho whispers. He’s always been a master at comfort. Chan know he wishes he could reach into the backseat and hold Seunghwan’s hand but it’s a tight squeeze from their position in front.
‘Hang in there, kiddo.’ Dong-in offers a kind smile.
The few minutes after that are spent in silence broken by occasional coughs and sneezes. Chan wince whenever he hears it, always on the defense. It’s nothing, he tries to convince himself, everyone has sick days and it has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that a glue is one of symptoms foreshadowing an inevitable infection.
Still, he looks back ever so often. Jeongin has fallen asleep, Felix keeps whistling a tune and the rest of them are focused on the bland scenery whipping by. It goes this way for a few more minutes, until in an instant, they come across an interception in the form of burning tires in the middle of the road. The car rolls to a stop and two men and a woman spring out, guns in hand.
Dong-in curses.
Sonya asks from the trunk. ‘What’s going on?’
‘Fucking looters.’ He tsks like it’s not a first time occurrence.
The kids have watched way too many apocalypse movies not to know what looters are. Chan glares through the windshield at the weapons in their hands. They look young but he’s sure they won’t hesitate to use it. They aren’t granted time to come up with a counter attack because Seunghwan is coughing again and Jeongin is speaking up, terrified.
‘Um, guys, you don’t think he’s—‘ he doesn’t finish. Their eyes run to him and then to the direction he’s staring at.
It’s Seunghwan. He’s slumped against the seat, looking even more sickly than a few minutes ago. His chest is rising and falling slowly and Chan doesn’t need to touch him to know his skin is sticky with sweat. But that’s not the problem.
His nose. It’s bleeding.