RE: Survival - Chapter 32

The four of them arrived near Soonchunhyang Hospital and scouted the premises from the outside before entering. There was always the possibility of encountering survivors who could pose a threat.

The hospital showed no signs of light, and the broken windows scattered throughout the building hinted at six months of chaos. What was once a bustling place filled with patients seeking treatment and medical staff devoted to their Hippocratic Oath now stood desolate, with only tattered curtains swaying in the broken windows, painting a bleak, gray picture.

Yohan turned to Sweeper, who was scanning the hospital’s interior with binoculars.

“See anything?”

“No. We’ll have to go inside to find out.”

“What about signs of life?”

“Hard to tell if it’s people or zombies, but it seems like mostly zombies.”

Yohan took the binoculars from Sweeper and inspected the interior. As Sweeper said, most of what he saw were zombies. Even from the outside, the sheer number of infected was evident.

“No choice. We’ll have to take the risk.”

“Which way do we enter?”

“The back entrance.”

The decision was clear. Entering from the sunlit side was the safest option, as the deeper inside they went, the darker it would become. Staying in well-lit areas was essential.

The four of them carefully made their way into the hospital.

The interior was a chaotic mess of broken furniture and shattered glass, evoking a scene straight out of a horror movie. Sunlight only trickled in through occasional cracks, leaving large parts of the hospital shrouded in darkness, hindering their progress.

The hospital corridors were littered with both moving zombies and their lifeless corpses. However, the narrow hallways kept the threat level manageable.

Yohan noticed something unsettling about the scene.

There was a stark contrast between the state of the moving zombies and the corpses. The dead zombies had gaping holes in their heads and appeared severely decomposed, suggesting they had been there for a long time. In contrast, the moving zombies showed far less decay.

“There were survivors here,” Yohan deduced.

He spoke in the past tense, as the evidence suggested someone had passed through this area. Whether those survivors were still alive was another matter.

“We only need to check two places: the cafeteria and the convenience store inside. Sweeper, take care of the two zombies near the left escalator.”

Yohan, sensing movement before anyone else, called on Sweeper. Just past the escalator, two zombies emerged from a blind spot with their jaws agape.

Prepared in advance, Sweeper grabbed one zombie by the head and twisted it sharply before slamming the other’s head down. Both were swiftly neutralized.

“Damn, you’re like a ghost with your instincts. How did you even know? There wasn’t a sound,” Sweeper asked, half-amazed.

Yohan simply pressed a finger to his lips twice and walked past him. Sweeper scowled at the lack of response.

The convenience store had been thoroughly looted, leaving little to no supplies. There were no signs of recent habitation, but there were many zombie corpses inside and nearby, all with their heads pierced.

Surveying the interior, Yohan made a quick mental calculation of the resources based on the scale of what he saw. If one group had monopolized both the cafeteria and the convenience store, they could have eked out survival for about six months.

At Yohan’s hand signal, the group promptly exited the convenience store. Since leaving the camp, they had primarily relied on hand signals for communication rather than speaking. Talking unnecessarily would earn a sharp rebuke from Yohan, and chatter was strictly forbidden until he gave the all-clear.

The cafeteria was on the same floor, not far from the convenience store.

Yohan tried the handle of the tightly shut cafeteria door. It was locked. He looked back at the others and then gently knocked on the door.

“Is anyone in there?”

His tone was calm and clear, neither too loud nor too soft. Yohan made an effort to sound as reassuring as possible while addressing any potential survivors.

“······.”

There was no response. He knocked louder the second time, raising his voice to call out, but the sound only grew loud enough to draw nearby zombies without yielding any reply.

The tense silence stretched on, and Seri, unable to bear the suffocating wait, spoke up.

“Oppa, I don’t think anyone’s in there…”

“No. There’s a survivor inside,” Yohan replied with certainty.

Seri widened her eyes, silently demanding an explanation.

“This is a door that can only be locked from the inside. Someone must have entered and locked it. If that person turned into a zombie, they would have responded to the noise.”

“Couldn’t it just have been locked beforehand? Or maybe someone locked it from the outside with a key before leaving?”

“They cleared out the convenience store, so there’s no way they left the cafeteria untouched. If they were alone, they wouldn’t leave until their supplies ran out. And if they had run out of supplies, there’d be no reason to lock the door.”

Still puzzled by Yohan’s conviction, Seri tilted her head.

“What if it’s not just one person?”

“Then they wouldn’t have locked the door. They would have set a lookout instead. Survivors tend to stay near their food supply. A spacious cafeteria is a better spot to settle than a cramped convenience store.”

Yohan knocked on the door again as he finished speaking.

“I know you’re in there. We’ve brought some aid supplies, so please open the door.”

There was still no reply.

“If you don’t open up, we’ll assume there are no survivors inside and break down the door.”

Yohan handed an axe to Sweeper and signaled him to use the blunt side. Sweeper struck the doorknob three times with the back of the axe, the heavy blows echoing through the corridor.

Of course, Yohan had no real intention of breaking down the door. The door itself was made of sturdy steel, and even the handle looked too robust to break easily. Nevertheless, his threat worked almost immediately.

“…We don’t need anything. Just leave,” a timid woman’s voice called out from inside.

Yohan turned triumphantly to the others and handed the axe back to Sweeper.

“Alright, we’ll leave some food by the door and go.”

He took a few dry food items from his bag and set them on the ground. Then, signaling the others to hide, he stepped back into the shadows.

After a long moment, the door cracked open slightly, and a woman peeked out, glancing nervously around. Confirming that no one was visible, she bent down to pick up the food. At that instant, Yohan, concealed behind the door, reached out and grabbed it.

A shrill scream echoed through the corridor.

The woman swung a pipe she was holding at Yohan, but he blocked it with his hand guard. Moving swiftly, he twisted his hand to disarm her, taking the pipe from her grip. As she struggled frantically, her eyes froze on the handgun Yohan held, and she stopped resisting, trembling in fear.

Yohan felt a brief pang of guilt at her overreaction but brushed it aside. He subdued the woman and carefully entered the cafeteria, keeping an eye on his surroundings. The hospital cafeteria was spacious. There were no zombies or visible signs of other people inside.

“Are you alone?” Yohan asked.

The woman clamped her lips shut, refusing to answer. Her expression grew increasingly anxious as the other three fully armed individuals entered and closed the door behind them. Casually inspecting the room, Yohan made an offhand remark.

“Five people, I’d guess.”

The woman’s eyes widened in shock.

“The others must be out scavenging for supplies,” Yohan continued.

“Who… who are you?” she stammered.

“Relax. We mean no harm. Can we talk for a moment?” Yohan replied calmly.

“Talking? With a gun pointed at me?” she snapped.

Yohan shrugged. “I’m not pointing it. I’m just holding it. If I meant harm, I’d have shot you the moment I saw you.”

“How do I know you won’t pretend to be friendly and then attack me?” she countered.

“Attack you? For what?” Yohan asked, genuinely perplexed.

“For… my body or something,” she muttered.

Yohan sighed inwardly at the misunderstanding but decided not to press the issue, understanding her caution. For a brief moment, Seri’s earlier comment about his “raider-like” appearance crossed his mind, but he dismissed it.

“There’s no guarantee, of course, but you can be glad I’m not that kind of person. Now, while we wait for your group, let’s talk.”

“About what?”

Her voice remained sharp, likely an attempt to mask her trembling.

“About how you’ve survived, who your companions are, things like that. By the way, are you a doctor?”

“…No.”

“Is there a doctor among your group?”

She hesitated but finally answered, visibly frightened by the gun in his hand.

“…Yes, there’s one doctor and a nurse.”

Yohan’s face lit up with satisfaction.

Medical professionals. Extremely valuable survivors. The news brightened his mood considerably.

“How long has it been since your supplies ran out?”

“Over a week. We’ve been scavenging here and there, but…”

“You must be starving. Seri, give her some food and water.”

Seri handed over the food and water they had brought in, adding a reassuring, “Don’t worry,” while patting the woman’s shoulder gently. Her touch seemed to have a calming effect, far more effective than Yohan’s words. The woman’s trembling began to subside. Yohan silently upgraded Seri’s contribution value from 0.3 to 0.4.

The woman began devouring the food voraciously, clearly having reached her limit. They had arrived just in time; it seemed the group had been at the edge of endurance, forced to leave their sanctuary to scavenge for supplies.

The cafeteria had its curtains partially drawn, allowing a dim light to filter in. Early in the apocalypse, they had likely kept the curtains fully closed, hiding in complete silence.

Various supplies were neatly stacked on the cafeteria tables—an indication of their effort to make the most of their space without venturing into the dangerous outdoors. The decomposed bodies outside were likely from their initial struggle when they first took refuge here.

Yohan, still alert, continued questioning the woman.

“How many people came here initially?”

“More than twenty. Most of them died on the way here.”

The woman seemed less guarded now, likely due to the kindness shown to her. Taking advantage of this, Yohan asked several questions about her experience.

What fascinated him most was the chaos in the early days at the hospital. Unsurprisingly, hospitals, filled with patients, became hotbeds of infection early on. Large hospitals like this one were particularly dangerous, making the survival of anyone here remarkable.

The group now consisted of seven people: one doctor, one nurse, a dietitian, and four family members of patients. They had been in the same hospital room when the outbreak began. Thanks to the quick thinking of one of the family members, they had managed to move together to the basement cafeteria. Most others, including the patients, had perished during the move. The dietitian, already stationed in the cafeteria, had joined them.

“Does anyone in your group know how to fight?”

“The ones who went out just now,” she replied.

Yohan was about to ask another question when they heard a commotion outside the door—frantic footsteps and panicked shouting.

“Open the door! Open the door!”

“They’re back!” the woman exclaimed.