RE: Survival - Chapter 33

The dietitian, upon hearing the voices, rushed to open the door. People were running toward them from the far end of the corridor, with a swarm of zombies hot on their heels. Leading the group was a man with a sharp jawline encircled by a well-kept beard. Though not particularly tall, his sturdy build and commanding aura marked him as the leader.

As six men and women barely made it inside, slamming the door behind them, the sound of zombies pounding on the door echoed through the cafeteria. The group collapsed to the ground, gasping for air, clutching their small prize: two cans of peach slices scavenged from nearby rooms.

As they caught their breath, they suddenly noticed Yohan and his group. Startled, they scrambled to their feet, grabbing makeshift weapons like pipes. Yohan calmly drew his handgun and chambered a round with an audible click, freezing them in place.

“Who… who are you?” one of them stammered.

“I’m Yohan,” he introduced himself simply, then gestured toward the leader. “First, check that no one’s been bitten.”

The bearded man, apparently named Gap-soo, let out a startled “Ah!” as if he had forgotten and began examining his group for injuries.

“We mean no harm,” Yohan said. “We’re from another camp.”

“…Gap-soo. Are there many survivors left?” he asked cautiously, still eyeing Yohan with suspicion.

“We’ve gathered a fair number. Are you the only survivors here?”

Gap-soo nodded, though his unease was evident. His gaze flicked anxiously between Yohan’s group members, clearly evaluating them. Before Yohan could ask anything else, Gap-soo spoke again.

“If you’re from another camp, have you heard anything about rescue squads?”

“There are no rescue squads. If you’ve lasted six months, you should know that by now.”

Early in the outbreak, military rescue operations and anti-zombie campaigns were frequent. But after half a year, any groups capable of such activities had long since been overrun.

Mutated zombies and zombie waves targeted large camps first. Ironically, the more active a camp was in rescuing others, the quicker it fell. In this world, clustering together meant death, while scattering increased the chances of survival.

Upon hearing there were no rescue squads, the faint hope in Gap-soo’s eyes extinguished. His tone turned cold.

“I don’t know why you’re here, but there’s nothing left for you to take. Leave.”

“If you’re out of food, you won’t last much longer yourselves,” Yohan replied evenly.

“That’s none of your business!” Gap-soo snapped, his voice tinged with desperation.

Yohan stroked his chin thoughtfully, observing Gap-soo’s hostile stance, which didn’t falter even in the face of a drawn handgun. His behavior struck Yohan as odd. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Yohan murmured quietly, “You’ve had some kind of trouble.”

“Tch. Who hasn’t in these times?” Gap-soo retorted bitterly.

“Were you attacked?”

Gap-soo flinched, confirming Yohan’s suspicion. Indeed, it would have been stranger if they hadn’t faced some ordeal in this chaos. Had they merely been isolated survivors, they would likely have asked for help rather than trying to drive Yohan’s group away.

“If you tell me what happened, we might be able to help,” Yohan offered.

“If you want to help, just leave us alone!” Gap-soo barked.

“Hey, mister, that’s harsh! We even gave food to your dietitian over there!” Seri shouted angrily, her voice brimming with indignation, which only made the tension rise further. Yohan raised a hand to calm her down.

“We mean no harm. If we did, we wouldn’t be talking to you like this while armed to the teeth. Think about it for a second.”

Yohan’s tone had hardened slightly, and Gap-soo seemed to feel the temperature in the room drop. He trembled slightly.

“What happened?” Yohan pressed.

Gap-soo hesitated, struggling with his decision. A man standing nearby finally stepped forward. He was wearing a crisp white shirt and wide cotton pants, his clean-shaven face and neatly trimmed beard making him stand out among the others.

“Please, tell them, Father,” the man said gently.

“Doctor…” Gap-soo muttered, seemingly torn.

Yohan’s eyes lit up. This was the doctor.

“They don’t seem like raiders. Besides, we could use their help,” the doctor said.

“You’re right, but…” Gap-soo trailed off.

“Let me explain,” the doctor interjected.

He stepped forward, trembling slightly as he seemed to relive the memory. “It was only three days ago,” he began, walking to the window and pulling the curtain aside completely.

There, on one of the window panes, was a message scrawled in blood. The word “HERE” was smeared grotesquely, with the letter “H” dripping in dark red streaks, resembling a horror movie poster.

Yohan approached the window, studying the ominous message intently. It had been written from outside.

—

*2017.06.*
*Three days before the scouting team’s arrival.*
*Soonchunhyang Hospital.*

The lid of the last canned food in their possession was peeled back with a sharp metallic sound. A mere handful of tuna lay inside. Dividing it among seven people left barely enough for a bite each.

Gap-soo scraped together as much as possible to give everyone a slightly larger share. He then tilted the remaining tuna oil into his mouth, swallowing the greasy, fishy liquid and chewing the tiny tuna fragments that came with it, savoring even the smallest morsel.

After finishing the now-spotless can, he stood. They had endured as long as they could.

For months, the group had survived by working together, taking down one zombie at a time. But now, they had nothing left. No water. No food. Not even hope for rescue.

“It’s time to go out,” Gap-soo said grimly as he stood.

Their survival had been thanks to careful rationing of the supplies from the convenience store and cafeteria. However, the first floor of Building A, where these resources were located, had fewer zombies thanks to their sacrifices during the initial evacuation.

Building B, where the emergency exit and external access were located, was blocked by a robust fire shutter. Outside, the area teemed with zombies. The noise made by people pounding on the shutter in desperation had drawn even more undead to the location.

Gap-soo’s group had refused to open the door for outsiders, leaving many to die. This was driven by a deep-seated distrust of others.

Four months ago, a lone visitor had arrived unexpectedly, making his way through the zombies to join the group. That evening, he had aggressively threatened the women in the group, forcing Gap-soo to subdue him. Soon after, the man turned into a zombie.

The trauma of that event lingered, fueling the group’s fear and distrust of outsiders. Whenever their resolve faltered at the sound of cries for help, they would glance at the lifeless body of that man left abandoned in a corner of the corridor, steeling themselves once more.

Even for those who had retreated into their shells like turtles, their limits were fast approaching.

“What will you do now, Mr. Hyun-soo’s father?” one of the group members asked.

“We’ll head out. Surely there must be a military base or refugee camp somewhere. Don’t worry too much.”

“But… what about all the monsters in the lobby?” another asked hesitantly.

The immediate problem wasn’t finding refuge, but simply escaping the hospital. Beyond the fire shutter that sealed off the corridor, the sound of endless zombie howls could be heard. One glance at the emergency exit near the shutter was enough to abandon any thoughts of using it.

“Let’s break the window and get out,” Gap-soo suggested.

The cafeteria windows were awning-style, barely wide enough for a leg to pass through. To escape through them, the group would need to dismantle the frame or shatter the glass, neither of which would go unnoticed by the zombies outside.

If the plan failed, death was inevitable. It was a desperate option—far from ideal but lacking alternatives.

“I’ll go first and lure the zombies away,” Gap-soo said resolutely.

“You can’t!”

His grim determination shocked the others, who scrambled to stop him. Then, a sharp scream pierced the air from outside the building.

“Ahhhhhh!”

Startled, the group turned toward the sound. Gap-soo slowly approached the window, parting the curtain slightly. The rest of the group crowded behind him, peering out nervously.

In the distance, two middle-aged figures—a man and a woman—were running for their lives. But their pursuers weren’t zombies. They were humans. Or perhaps, something worse.

The two were being hunted by a gang riding motorcycles, the chase resembling a cruel game of cat and mouse. The bikers would stop occasionally to smoke, allowing the pair to gain some ground, only to close in on them again moments later. The bizarre pursuit was steadily drawing closer to the hospital.

There were ten bikers in total. Each wore bloodstained clothes and sported grotesque war paint, with dark, smeared patterns under their eyes resembling unholy tribal masks. They wielded axes, hammers, and saws, cackling maniacally as they hunted.

Behind them, a slow-moving horde of zombies followed like a grim entourage.

The scene was surreal: two desperate humans fleeing, ten predators hunting, and hundreds of zombies shuffling along in their wake.

The fleeing pair, with expressions of pure desperation, darted down the main road toward the hospital.

No, don’t come here!

Gap-soo instinctively shouted in his head.

Stay away! Please!

Despite his silent plea, the pair ran straight toward the hospital. They got within 100 meters of the cafeteria window before the woman stumbled and fell. Her piercing scream cut through the air.

The man hesitated, turning back to help her. But that moment’s delay was all it took for one of the bikers to rev his motorcycle and charge forward. Swinging a baseball bat, he struck the man’s head with a sickening crack.

*Thwack!*

The dull sound of impact echoed through the cafeteria as the man crumpled to the ground.

Gap-soo’s wife, watching beside him, clasped her hands over her mouth to stifle a scream.

But it didn’t end there.

“Those bastards…” Gap-soo muttered through clenched teeth.

The bikers grabbed the unconscious man by one leg and began dragging him behind a motorcycle, circling around and grinding his face against the asphalt. Blood smeared across the ground in a horrifying trail.

Suddenly, a zombie lunged at the cafeteria window.

“Ahhh!” someone screamed as they stumbled back. Gap-soo’s heart felt like it would stop as he hastily pulled the curtain shut, but the zombie continued banging on the glass.

*Bang! Bang!*

*Bang! Bang!*

“Help me! Ahhh!” the woman’s desperate screams outside mingled with the grotesque laughter of the bikers.

Gap-soo, usually known for his steadiness, found himself trembling uncontrollably. His legs and arms shook as his mind raced with prayers for the chaos to pass—prayers for the zombie at the window to leave.

The banging gradually subsided. While the zombies’ guttural growls persisted, the other noises had faded. A silence heavy with dread settled over the group.

The passage of time felt endless—was it minutes or hours? No one dared move, petrified as if eternity itself had frozen them in place.

Slowly, Gap-soo stood. His movements felt impossibly slow, like a man wading through a dream. Step by step, he approached the window and gingerly gripped the edge of the curtain.

Ever so cautiously, he lifted it.

Directly in front of him, staring through the glass, were two gleaming eyes.

“See? I told you they were in here,” the biker whispered, his lips curling into a grin that stretched unnaturally wide. His bloodstained face twisted into an expression of pure malice, his smile nearly reaching his ears.