Chapter 172

               

Sweeper dodged the zombies swarming him and went straight up. As zombies poured in from inside and out, people scattered in panic.

Order and control completely collapsed. From now on, everyone had to look out for their own lives.

Reaching the entrance to the third-floor gate, Sweeper caught his breath and looked out the window. The scene was grim. Hordes of zombies surged in like a rising tide. They writhed endlessly, just like ants swarming to a spot where candy has fallen.

‘The gym isn’t completely surrounded yet.’

There were so many zombies around the gym it was hard to speak, but they hadn’t yet enclosed the entire place. Zombies were mostly gathering around the noisy entrances and the iron ladder—places where people were trying to escape.

Either way, escaping by normal routes was impossible. Too many zombies had already gathered.

“holy shit……”

“Mister.”

“Huh?”

“I feel dizzy. Please let me down.”

Bora, slung over his shoulder, spoke in a small voice. Sweeper nodded and set her down. With her feet on the ground, Bora gagged as if she were about to throw up.

“It’s all over now.”

Bora looked outside. Her voice was calm, as if resigned.

“Thank you for everything. I really wanted to repay you.”

“It’s not over yet. Don’t say unlucky things, kid.”

“I feel sorry and grateful because you’ve done so much for me. I really wanted to repay you if I survived.”

“What do you have to give, huh. Forget it.”

“If you wanted, I was going to become your bride. You’d have to wait until I was an adult, though…”

“Ha! I don’t want a kid who hasn’t even grown up yet.”

As Sweeper laughed boisterously, Bora smiled faintly as well. Sweeper, saying she made him laugh, flicked her forehead, then shook the railing post a few times and looked down.

“We can get down here.”

“You’re going down there?”

“Of course. I’m Sweeper.”

“Excuse me?”

“We have to go. We can’t just die here, can we?”

“…But.”

“This is where the zombies look the fewest. I can get down for now. The problem is… how to shake off the zombies after I get down… If we’re not careful, we’ll just get surrounded and die a miserable death. It’d be nice to have some sort of ride.”

At Sweeper’s pondering, Bora spoke up.

“Minjae has a motorcycle.”

“What? Really?”

“Yes. There, do you see at the end of the parking lot? That’s Minjae’s motorcycle. He used to say he’d escape with it if things got bad.”

“What about the key?”

“He should have it.”

Minjae was the young man who’d shown Sweeper the smoking room and took a pack of cigarettes the first day he arrived. He was one of the few people whose appearance Sweeper clearly remembered.

Sweeper’s face hardened. It was a gamble worth trying. A big, sturdy car would have been better, but a nimble motorcycle was preferable to a mediocre vehicle.

“Alright,” Sweeper muttered, then took out a hidden knife and placed it in Bora’s small hand.

“Kid, wait here for a bit. Hide well. Don’t follow anyone who offers you candy.”

“…Mister?”

“I’ll be back soon.”

He grinned widely.

“Say it.”

Bora smiled, too.

“Yes. Please be careful.”

Sweeper showed a satisfied look, then pushed off with his feet. His body shot out like an arrow.

Sweeper jumped down from the third, second, and first floors in an instant, striking a zombie in his path. The charging zombie flew like a scrap of paper.

Memories from a few minutes ago flashed through his mind. When he’d been carrying Bora up, he’d seen Minjae for sure. If his memory was correct, it was near Gate 3 on the first floor.

Once again, a zombie lunged at him like a moth, and its head was crushed. When he finally found Minjae, he had already become a zombie.

‘It’s just as well,’ he thought. If Minjae didn’t hand it over, he’d have taken it by force anyway.

Sweeper charged like lightning and delivered a sweeping kick to Minjae’s knee. As the zombie staggered, his flying hand axe severed its head from its neck.

Minjae’s head rolled on the ground, chattering its teeth. Then, Sweeper sensed a zombie attacking from behind. He ducked and threw it down.

“They just keep coming, really.”

It was a string of moments where even a second’s carelessness could mean death. Zombies seemed to pop out from everywhere, out of nowhere.

Hurriedly, Sweeper searched Minjae’s bloody pockets and found the motorcycle key.

Mission accomplished, he sprinted back up to the third floor.

He was out of breath.

Even for someone with his stamina, he was starting to feel worn down.

Every day was the end of the world, a never-ending stretch of tension.

“…Kid?”

But there was no one on the third floor. Only a single zombie corpse slumped against the wall where Bora should have been.

“Kid, kid!”

Sweeper shouted desperately.

Even as he called out, Bora was nowhere to be seen. Then, suddenly, the zombie corpse twitched. As Sweeper tightened his grip, the zombie corpse collapsed and Bora crawled out from under a blanket.

“Shh. I’m here.”

“What are you doing?”

“I saw on TV that if you do this, zombies can’t find you.”

Sweeper stuck out his tongue at her nerve.

“Did you do this?”

He pointed at the zombie corpse, and Bora nodded. In her trembling hand was the machete Sweeper had given her.

“Well done. Let’s go.”

Sweeper tied the anti-snatching rope to the third-floor column and slowly climbed down. He could feel Bora’s hands tightly gripping his neck from behind.

As they got lower, a few zombies spotted them and closed in. Still hanging, Sweeper smashed their heads with his foot. Sweat dripped to the floor.

After breaking a few zombies, a gap opened on the ground. Sweeper lightly landed in that space.

“Follow at full speed.”

“Huh? Okay!”

Sweeper dashed off. Running at full speed, he broke, kicked, and slashed at any zombies that got close.

“Haa!”

Like a wild dog, he fought his way forward.

“Urahh!”

Finally, arriving at the motorcycle, Sweeper started it up. The engine roared loudly. He put Bora behind him and yanked the throttle.

With a scream, the motorcycle shot forward. A zombie charged at them. Sweeper lifted the front wheel with all his might.

“Get out! Get oooooout!”

Crunch!

The motorcycle wobbled from the impact, then regained balance and shot off again.

All that was left at the spot was the vivid trail of blood from the two-wheeler.

—

June 2017.

Six months into the zombie apocalypse.

Sangdong Station.

Winter’s chill and spring’s hunger had passed, and early summer was on the way.

Sweeper wedged a crowbar under the iron shutter and pried it open.

Breaking the glass door and entering, Sweeper’s face hardened. He had thought that, with the shutter closed, supplies would be preserved inside. That hope was shattered. There were signs someone had already broken in from inside the building.

The convenience store was completely empty.

‘Those guys again.’

Sweeper rubbed his forehead a few times. It felt like he was getting more wrinkles from frowning so often lately.

Spinning the crowbar, Sweeper walked through the building. As expected, every store inside had been emptied like a vacuum.

‘Bastards.’

A group in the area had been getting on his nerves. The Goldmoon executive from Hyundai Department Store and his lackeys. They were a band of raiders, centered around tough fighters, who looted nearby shops. What made them raiders was simple. They didn’t just take from empty shops—if they found survivors, they’d steal their things or even kidnap them.

Since the executive wanted Sweeper and his people as subordinates, at least Sweeper and his group had been left alone. Sweeper also tried not to provoke them by killing any of them.

But after a big clash a few days ago, they’d promised not to cross into this area. That promise was now torn up like a scrap of paper. These guys wouldn’t stop unless he did something about it. Sweeper changed his mind.

At that moment, there was a thump from the next building. They were still nearby. Sweeper sprang into action.

Sure enough, he saw them gathering supplies in the next building. Men in old suits, stained with blood.

Without a word, Sweeper ambushed them.

Each group always had at least one person with a gun. If you took out the leader, the rest were easy.

“Hey, hurry it up—urk!”

A man with a semi-automatic rifle slung over his shoulder choked out his last breath and staggered. Sweeper grabbed the rifle and clubbed another man who rushed at him.

“Y-you bastard again…”

“Hey, gangsters, not this way.”

Crash!

“Didn’t I tell you not to come here?”

Thud! The rifle swung like a club. They were big, sturdy men, but no match for his speed. Sweeper jabbed with the rifle, and the man he struck on the nose with the barrel went down last.

Groans came from all around.

“I told you nicely, but you just won’t listen. Do I have to break your arms and legs for you to get it?”

“Ugh, ugh…”

“I’m confiscating your guns. Leave everything you took here. And tell that executive, too. Don’t come near this place again. Next time, it won’t end well. You got that?”

At Sweeper’s threatening words, the man who seemed to be the group’s leader groaned out a response.

“The boss said this is your last chance. If you don’t join up, next time, he’ll really kill you and your people… aagh!”

But he didn’t finish. Sweeper’s machete drove into his thigh.

“You think I’m joking?”

His face was smiling, but a chilling murderous intent emanated from him like a blade. Sweeper twisted the machete in his hand. Screams poured out.

“If you try anything stupid, I’ll kill every last one of you. Got it?”

It was practically a growl.