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It had been exactly four years since the apocalypse began.
At first, calling it an ‘apocalypse’ felt wrong. It felt strange, like it was impossible. Surely things like that were only in movies…?
But no, the Crawlers were real. Human minds, twisted like putty to the virus, kneaded between gnarled fingers.
Crawlers got their names by how they moved. They dragged themselves along the ground, very few able to stand securely on two legs. Each movement was work, but they all pushed through, desperate for the one thing the virus made them crave: human blood.
The virus, known as X-1, took residence in humans throughout several stages:
1.
The first stage is an absent chill that runs through the patient’s spine. It makes them shudder, their body temperature dropping slowly. This takes place within the first few hours of infection.
2.
Next, the patient begins to lose feeling in their extremities. For some, this is incredibly violent and sudden, while for others it takes time. In rare cases, the patient may never lose feeling at all; they are called ‘Sprinters’.
3.
Then, the patient begins to feel thirsty. It is a thirst they cannot quench with water, nor any other type of liquid. It is one that lingers and settles in their mouth, rough and sharp like sandpaper.
4.
The final stage is intense drowsiness. The patient may faint or fall asleep, never to wake up again. But they are not dead. Rather, the X-1 virus has taken over the mind and now forces a twisted version of their consciousness to awaken, driven by the need for blood and the ache of an endless thirst.
The Crawlers never regain control of their numb limbs. They are forced to haul themselves along the ground, uncaring of the way concrete or sharp obstacles may tear at their skin. The Crawlers do not feel. They can not feel.
Neither can the Sprinters, running full force through the city, slamming into things as they search endlessly.
The thirst does not diminish, nor does it fade. X-1 is relentless and all anyone can do is pray they don’t catch it next, for it brings with it a fate worse than death.
Society collapsed fairly quickly after X-1 and the streets began to fill with Crawlers. Those who were not infected began to loot, and riot, and flee in search of safety.
Many fled to the countryside, building rudimentary structures like hideouts and camps. They hid from sight, crafting traps and fences to keep both Crawlers and other humans out.
Humanity, as we today know it, collapsed within the span of a few weeks.
Now, four years on, only the Lucky Ones remain.
Goo Gunil stood off to the side, surveying the open concrete expanse of his camp, letting his mind wander back through his memories.
He had been lucky when he came across this old, private airfield. A large warehouse stood on the premises beside a smooth runway and a thick wired fence running all the way around. It was situated in the middle of a wide, grassy paddock, which allowed him to survey his surroundings at all hours of day.
He had set up camp there by himself, rolling out his sleepmat in one of the warehouses and allowing himself to carefully drift to sleep. He feared at first that this was someone else’s camp, but after a month or so, he felt ready to claim it as his own.
Since then, just over three years ago now, Gunil had been in charge of ‘Airbase-X’ as he had renamed it.
It had only been a few months after he first settled in that Oh Seungmin appeared. Chased by Sprinters, Gunil had acted without thinking, calling the man over and unlocking the heavy gate. He only just managed to slam it shut in time before the Sprinters slammed into the chain-link fence.
They pushed so hard it cut at their skin, black-red blood oozing down their limbs as they flailed helplessly, reaching for the two humans.
Gunil readied his shotgun, shooting for the head in the way they had all learnt to do.
Seungmin was beyond thankful, repeating again and again how he wasn’t sure how to repay him. Gunil just smiled. He believed human connection was stronger than the forces driving people apart, and so, he offered the man a place to stay for a few nights. While he was taken aback at first, Seungmin quickly agreed.
He took up chores around the base, working to help Gunil in any way he could. It turned out, prior to the apocalypse, Seungmin was a nurse. He had in his bag a heavily packed first aid kit, ready for any kind of issue they may face.
Now that there were two of them, they could take turns travelling to the freshwater stream an hour’s march away for showers and water collection with less fear of returning to nomads having claimed their home.
After Seungmin came Han Hyeongjun.
His arrival had been simple, free of any Crawlers or Sprinters. One day, completely as usual, Seungmin had travelled out to the river to bathe, but taking much longer than Gunil expected. As the sun began to lower, he started to panic, wondering how long he should wait before he went out looking for Seungmin.
When Seungmin finally did return, Gunil ran to the gates to let him in, pausing only momentarily as he noticed the man by the nurse’s side.
“Hyeongjun,” he had introduced his name as. He was travelling, trying to find a place to stay. After the apocalypse had broken out, he had been dragged into a nomadic pillaging unit, forced to watch as his friends broke into camps and robbed them bare.
After years of fighting with his morals, Hyeongjun had run away, slipping out in the shadows of darkness and escaping his unit forever.
Seungmin didn’t even have to ask before Gunil was setting up a bed for Hyeongjun. They were both glad for the new company, staying up late talking that first night. Hyeongjun was quiet, but he smiled politely as the two friends spoke, glad to be somewhere friendly after a month of living in the bush.
Kwak Jiseok and Kim Jungsu came next almost a year later.
It was late, the stars vivid in the sky and the moon hung peacefully. To the south of the airbase stood a thick forest. While it was good for hunting, its proximity to the base had caused some concerns in the past.
It was there, from the trees almost two hundred and fifty meters away, that the duo first appeared. Jungsu was injured, hanging off Jiseok’s shoulders as he did his best to walk. He hissed and flinched with every step, his sprained ankle swollen and angry.
Jiseok urged him forward softly, painfully aware of the Crawlers behind them. Mixed in with the night air around them were aching thirsty gasps and hungry, voiceless shouts. The sound of bodies dragging through grass and sticks mangled uncomfortably with the rushing in Jiseok’s ears.
They spotted the airbase through the dark and Jiseok yelled for help, hoping desperately someone kind-hearted lived inside.
Hyeongjun woke first, scaling the indoor ladder and settling at the top. There were a few windows in a small, raised area there, enough that the three of them had crafted a ‘bird’s nest’ lookout. Hyeongjun manned it mostly, being the smallest and lightest of the three of them.
“Hey,” he had yelled down, “there’s someone out there!”
Gunil and Seungmin were sprinting towards the fence moments later, reaching for the gate and hauling it back open. Seungmin ran to the pair’s side, swinging an arm around Jungsu and helping Jiseok all but carry him into the base.
As soon as they were clear, Gunil slammed the gate closed. He reached for his shotgun, poking the barrel between the gaps in the chain-link to reach the Crawlers.
Seungmin helped Jungsu across the base, only setting him down once they were inside the warehouse. He put him on the ground, resting his back against the wall and laying his damaged leg out before him.
As Seungmin worked, Jiseok hovered close, Jungsu’s hand clutched in his own. He spoke with Gunil and Hyeongjun, telling them of his and Jungsu’s story.
They had met in the first year of the apocalypse, banding together for company more than anything else. They had gotten close over the years, slowly coming to depend on each other.
Then, much more suddenly than either of them had expected, their camp had been overrun by Crawlers. In the chaos, Jungsu had fallen over, injuring his ankle. Jiseok had only just managed to get him out alive.
Gunil insisted they stay, at least until Jungsu’s ankle was better. The duo agreed, and soon their temporary stay became an indefinite one.
Lee Jooyeon was the last one to join.
He was a nomad in the area, one that the six had seen in passing a number of times. He frequented the same spring they used, but they had never shared more than a few words.
Jiseok and Gunil found him one night, his arm slashed open and his clothes soaked in blood. His tent was in tatters and his things were all over the place. He had been raided and left for dead.
Jooyeon wasn’t in a state to argue, barely conscious with his head lulling to the side. They brought him back to the base, allowing Seungmin to treat him.
It took him a few days to regain his senses, and even more to be able to sit up. He tried to leave as soon as he was standing, but Seungmin demanded he rest more.
Jooyeon was a nomad at heart and the idea of settling in one place too long, despite the airbase’s high quality defence, made him uneasy. It took weeks before Jooyeon began to open up to the rest of them.
Once he had, he told stories of his hometown. How he had stayed in his house with his parents. How they promised if they stayed there, things would be alright. How they had died because of that promise. How Jooyeon had run away as fast as he could. How he had never stopped running.
It wasn’t until a midnight scare that Jooyeon began to see the base in a different light. Everything was so sudden, the noises jolting everyone awake. The screams of Sprinters loud from the field outside.
Hyeongjun scaled the bird’s nest, relaying what he saw.
They were safe. The Sprinters were across the field. Even if they were closer, the fences were secure and the defences were in place. They were safe.
Jooyeon, who had already begun to panic, began to calm as they explained all of it to him. He began to see how secure the space was, how they weren’t in danger.
He agreed to stay a month later, shaking Gunil’s hand like they had struck some kind of deal.
As Gunil surveyed the base - the warehouse and the airstrip, the dirt Jungsu had fashioned into a garden, the safe haven the six of them had built together, hand-in-hand - he couldn’t help but feel a bubble of emotion well up inside his chest.
Airbase-X was his home now. The five men he had taken under his wing were his family.
He found himself smiling.
This all may have been born of the apocalypse, of a broken world and a rabid virus, but honestly, Gunil wouldn’t have it any other way. To him, this was enough. This was his perfect.
“Hey, Gunil!” Seungmin shouted, leaning out the warehouse door. “Dinner time.”
Gunil’s smile only widened.
“Coming.”