Chapter Text
02:17 PM
“Once more, project your voice a little. And a one… two…”
The soft tones of hundreds of students singing and harmonizing to The Beatles’ Eleanor Rigby echoes in the performance hall, the recital for their upcoming December performance running as smooth as it can go.
Minghao sits on the soft, plush red chairs, his elbow perched on the armrest and his chin on his palm. His eyes are drooping closed, tired with his dance recitals and practices. Yes, it’s amazing to be able to perform with live music performed by his best friend Seungkwan, but it’s very hard on his body, the constant tumbles and dropping to the floor.
Minghao gets lost in the music, and he doesn’t realize it when the recital is over.
“Are we that boring?”
Minghao’s eyes snap open and he looks at Seungkwan’s face, matching his friends’ grin.
“No, just a little exhausted, that’s all,” Minghao says. “I don’t think I’ll survive this last week if we keep going like this.”
“Nah, we won’t,” Seungkwan jokes. “Wanna go to Bonnie’s once we get our feedback? I’m sure some coffee will do you good.
Minghao and Seungkwan set up camp in the very corner of Bonnie’s, the local cafe Minghao works at. Seokmin, Minghao’s coworker and best friend at work, gives them their drinks and joins them at their booth after finishing his shift. The wooden table is covered in their homework (or stage mapping, in Minghao’s case).
“Looks fun,” Seokmin says sarcastically, sitting down with a latte. He peers over Seungkwan’s textbook on human anatomy and grabs the paper Minghao has just finished looking over. “Three… uh… whats?”
“Partial jumps,” Minghao huffs.
“It’s what he calls those thingies where he jumps in the air but keeps one of his feet on the floor. Remember those?” Seungkwan whispers.
“Oh, when he broke his ankle?” Seokmin joins in, and Seungkwan giggles.
“Very funny,” Minghao says snappily, and his two best friends laugh a little harder.
3:37 PM
With a final crescendo on the piano, Jisoo finishes his self-composed piece. He allows the note to ring in the small cafe, opening his eyes and peering around himself. The people in the cafe barely notice him, only a small girl with a button-nose and drool on her chin stares at him until her mother urges her to finish her orange juice.
Jisoo leans forward and picks up his father’s old hat that he perches by the piano every time he plays, looking at the sad amount of money inside. Just a couple of dollars. Canadians being generally nicer than others is a myth, Jisoo thinks.
“Hong.”
Jisoo turns around on his bench. The cafe’s manager beckons him over to the bar, and Jisoo packs up the few dollars earned and places his father’s old hat on his head before heading over.
“A drink?” the manager offers. Jisoo denies with a shake of his head. “I was asked to speak to you by the owner. Jisoo, I hate to do this, you’re incredibly kind and talented, but I’m afraid you can’t play here anymore.”
“What?”
“We’ve had… complaints from customers. They say that your playing is interrupting their business. A lot of businessmen come here, after all, and–well, to put it simply…” the manager looks Jisoo up and down. He’s dressed in stained slacks and a wrinkly black dress shirt–not his best. “Yeah.”
“So… you’re kicking me out,” Jisoo states.
“Yes.”
“Oh.” Jisoo glances around the cafe, trying to fight the conflicting feelings in his chest. “Okay.”
“Again, I’m sorry,” the manager says.
Fighting tears, Jisoo picks up his small suitcase again. He steps out of the cafe and into the pouring Alberta rain, and when he gets to the rackety bike that stands against the wall, he lets out a sob.
Playing the piano at this cafe was the only thing giving him and his dad money, and now he’s got nothing. Maybe he could sell his dad’s car, but that would barely be enough to cover costs for one surgery–let alone two.
With a heavy heart, Jisoo sits on the sodden bike seat to head home and break his father the news.
3:58 PM
Seungcheol’s been stuck on his case for a week now, looking paperwork over and over again in desperate attempts to find the identity of the robber. Three separate jewelry stores in New York have been struck by the robber now, and every time, they leave no trace.
Frustrated with how complicated the case is beginning to get, Seungcheol throws the files down and stares out the window of his office, where he has a view of the local cafe. He watches as three boys sit at a table by the window, one pouring over a pile of paper laid out on the table while the other two are giggling about something.
Sometimes, Seungcheol longs to be back in college again, not struggling to get complicated cases closed. He misses the times where he and his friends would hang out in that exact cafe and cause trouble with the owners. In fact–he recognizes two of the boys. They worked there when Seungcheol was still in college.
There’s a beeping over the intercom. Seungcheol looks up as the secretary’s panicked voice rings through the entire room. On his computer flashes a public announcement, and his phone buzzes.
“ All public locations to be evacuated immediately. I repeat, all public locations to be evacuated immediately. Leave New York as fast as possible. May God be with you all. ”
Seungcheol waits for the announcement to be repeated over the intercom, but the secretary doesn’t speak again. It’s moments later that the cops around Seungcheol begin to run from their stations. Seungcheol remains glued to his seat, staring at the emergency message that has taken over his screen.
WARNING: Russia has detonated a bomb. It is aimed for New York, New York, United States of America. Evacuate immediately if in New York, New York or surrounding area.
4:13 PM
WARNING: Russia has detonated a bomb. It is aimed for New York, New York, United States of America. Evacuate immediately if in New York, New York or surrounding area.
Seungkwan’s voice wavers off after finishing reading out the message, his face going pale before he looks up to find Seokmin and Minghao already staring at him. Around them, people are noticing the announcement. Then, it’s like a switch is flipped.
People begin to scream and cry, and a group of old men begin to swear at the Russian government. Seungkwan is frozen in his seat, and Seokmin pulls him out of his shock when he grabs his arm.
“We need to go,” Seokmin says urgently. “ Now .”
4:15 PM
Jihoon struggles through the crowd of people around him, cursing his short height and thin frame. He needs to get away from New York, and there is no order in how people try to escape the impending bomb. Even his kindergarten class can do better than this in an emergency.
A group of young businessmen grab Jihoon and throw him around a bit, jolly and obviously drunk. They push Jihoon away and Jihoon stumbles over the body of a trampled teenager that lays on the ground, still and eyes staring into nothing.
There is a push in his stomach, and Jihoon falls onto the pavement. He scrambles to get up but is kicked by running feet. Jihoon tries to elbow his way out of the crowd, a fruitless attempt to save his life, and then an arm pushes through the crowd and drags him back to his feet.
“Up you get, come on,” a voice grunts. Jihoon’s arm is let go of, and he looks around to the cop that has helped him. “You okay?”
“Probably,” Jihoon says.
“I think you’ll just be bruised. Come on, my car will get us out of here.”
The cop sets off in a sprint. Jihoon doesn’t hesitate to follow him, no longer shoved around by people courtesy of the cop freeing a path for the both of them. A gun is fastened to the cop’s belt.
“Here, get in,” the cop says when they’ve reached one of the few cop cars left at the police station’s parking lot.
The cop throws open the back door of the car and Jihoon just about throws himself inside before slamming the door closed. The cop himself shoots into the driver’s seat, starting the car with the flick of a button. They’ve barely left the parking lot before the cop slams on the brakes and rolls open his window.
“Get in!” the cop yells at three young boys that stand aimlessly on the sidewalk by a cafe. “Come on!”
The three boys scramble and Jihoon throws open the back door for them. One of the three–the tallest–falls into the passenger’s seat. They don’t fasten their seatbelt–the cop doesn’t say a word–and they’re speeding through the streets of New York again. The cop avoids as many people as he can, and Jihoon tries not to look whenever there is no other choice but to hit someone. The cop never stops.
They drive until they’ve hit Paterson, north of New York. A loud rumbling fills the air, and the cop speeds up more, slamming his foot down on the gas pedal.
Other drivers, those who’ve given up on escaping and those who might not even know about the bomb, have stopped on the highway and have gotten out of their cars to peer at the sky. Jihoon whips around, eyes falling on a small dot in the blue sky.
They’re in Wayne, further away from New York, when something rumbles. A flash of white covers the sky.
The cop steers off the highway and into the grass ditch continuing to speed away from New York while the boy in the passenger’s seat is screaming to be careful yet also to go faster. It’s a bumpy ride in the ditch, and the boy beside Jihoon clutches Jihoon’s arm and shakes.
Then, the car stops.
“Don’t!”
The boy in the passenger’s seat is trying to open the door. The cop tugs him away from the door.
“We need–”
“We need to stay here ,” the cop says sharply. “The thermal wave will burn you alive if you leave this car right now.”
“How do you know that?” the boy snaps.
“I studied this shit in college,” the cop says. “You’re staying inside the car. All of you.”
As if to prove the cop’s point, there is a loud yet distant explosion. The five occupants of the car turn around and stare out the window, and within seconds they are blinded by a bright light.
It’s a minute of fear, where they’re dead silent and barely breathing. Then, their sight returns, and Jihoon’s mouth falls open at the sight of a mushroom-shaped cloud rising into the sky above New York.”
“We’re out of the blast radius,” the cop murmurs.
There is a pressure that pushes them back and a heat so hot it makes Jihoon want to jump into a pool of ice water washes over them. The boy beside Jihoon whimpers.
“It’s okay,” the cop says soothingly, turning to look at the whimpering boy. “We’ll be fine as long as we stay inside the car.”
“We have to stay here?” the boy sitting furthest away from Jihoon says. He’s got black hair cut into a mullet and a distinct accent.
“Just the night,” the cop says.
“I don’t even know your name!” the boy cries out.
“Seungcheol,” the cop says. “And you’re making a bold assumption, considering I just let four complete strangers into my car. What’s your name, kid?”
“Minghao,” the boy says. “I don’t care if you’re a cop or not, if you lay one finger on my friends I will break your kneecaps.”
“I’d like to see you try,” Seungcheol laughs. “You’re staying here, end of story.”
Minghao looks baffled, as if he hadn’t expected Seungcheol to actually keep them inside the car. However, the boy in the passenger’s seat shuts him up with a silent glare.
“I’m Seokmin,” the boy in the passenger’s seat says. “And that’s Seungkwan, in the back.”
Seungcheol turns his eyes to Jihoon.
“I’m Jihoon,” Jihoon says. Seungkwan clutches onto his arm a little tighter, as if knowing Jihoon’s name makes him less scared.
“Well, better get cozy,” Seungcheol says “I think we’re going to be staying here for a little while.”
3:35 AM
Seokmin wakes up when it’s dark outside. There’s lights up ahead, in the very, very far distance. His seat is warm, and his right shoulder is pushed against what he assumes to be the interior of the car.
He doesn’t know why he’s woken up, and he peers around the car as the events from less than twelve hours ago come back to him. A blanket is draped over him, and it slides off his shoulder as he looks at the cop, Seungcheol. Seungcheol is fast asleep against the window of the car. A pistol lays in his right hand, resting on his lap.
Seokmin glances behind him at his friends. Thankfully, Minghao and Seungkwan are okay, though the latter seemed thoroughly shaken in the afternoon. Seungkwan is draped over Minghao’s shoulder, and Minghao is twisted uncomfortably against the car door. A second blanket lays over their laps. Beside the two, the red-haired boy, Jihoon, is awake and staring out of the window with distant eyes, mouthing the words to what Seokmin thinks is a nursery song.
Seokmin turns back around, a little confused about why he’s woken up. He stares out the front window with sleep-crusted eyes, and then he notices the dull thumping to his right. He nearly has a heart attack when he turns his head.
Someone–well, what used to be someone–is slamming her head against the car window. Seokmin would’ve had the immediate urge to open the door to help her, but the lack of her jaw and the yellow-stained teeth stop him. Her eyes are bloodshot, and nothing but white. Her hair is matted with blood.
The woman–thing? Zombie?–doesn’t seem to have noticed Seokmin. She continues to thump her head against the glass, which has yet to crack.
Terrified, Seokmin reaches out, searching for Seungcheol’s body to alert him of the thing outside. Once he feels the cop’s heat, he slaps Seungcheol’s arm. It takes several hits, but eventually seungcheol grunts awake.
“What the fuck do you need, go to… to sleep…”
Seokmin gulps as Seungcheol stares at the thing outside the car.
“Don’t move a fucking muscle,” Seungcheol warns.
Someone in the back stirs, and Minghao hisses, “Why are you guys talking?”
“Look out the window, maybe you’ll see why!” Seokmin snaps back, his voice shaking.
“What the fuck is that?” Seungkwan yelps suddenly, and Jihoon shoots from his reverie and hits his head against the backrest.
With the commotion, the thing outside the window jerks awake, finally noticing that the car she is aimlessly bumping her head against contains five occupants. She groans, albeit muffled through the car door, which she slams herself again. Seokmin screams when the door dents.
“ Shut up! ” Seungcheol shouts, to no avail.
The thing has alerted more of the dead creatures, and within seconds, an old and mutated man presses himself against Jihoon’s window, empty eye sockets bleeding. From behind, something thumps against the car, and they all jerk forward with the motion.
“All right, move it !” Seungcheol roars, and he aims his pistol at the thing outside Seokmin’s window. With a clear shot into her mouth, she falls to the ground, and a thin hole breezes lukewarm air into the car.
“In the middle seat back there, punch the backrest. There’s a bag of guns in there, grab them!” Seungcheol yells at the three in the back. They scramble, Seungkwan struggling to move and allow Jihoon to punch the plush backing.
Seungcheol aims his gun at Seokmin’s window again and Seokmin keels forward to push his head between his knees in order to avoid the gunshots. He hears the pistol go off once, twice, three more times, and glass rains over him and falls on his back. It falls off when he sits up again.
“Y’all ever shot guns?” Seungcheol asks them hurriedly.
“Are you out of your mind?” Seokmin says incredulously. “Of course not! We’re high schoolers!”
“I’m not,” Jihoon argues, but it falls on deaf ears. Seungcheol huffs in annoyance.
“Fine–don’t take it off the safety unless absolutely necessary,” he says, grabbing the duffel bag Jihoon has pulled from the trunk of the car. “Not that I’d expect you lot to know how to take it off, anyway.”
Seungcheol shoves a gun in each of their hands. Seokmin watches him, the gun feeling foreign in his hands. Seungcheol takes a deep breath to brace himself, and pushes open his door, shoving several creatures aside and onto the front of the car with the force.
“Get out!” Seungcheol yells. “Can’t stay in there forever!”
Seokmin scrambles over the middle console to get out the driver’s side, his side of the car swarmed with the undead creatures. In the back, Minghao opens his door and helps Seungkwan out, followed by Jihoon with a rifle held awkwardly in his hand.
“Give me that,” Seungcheol grunts, and he pulls the rifle from Jihoon’s hand. Seungcheol throws the empty pistol on the ground and begins to fire bullets into the dark night.
One by one, the undead go down. A path is cleared, which Seungcheol hurries through, continuing to fire bullets and empty chambers into the undead creatures reaching for them. Seokmin drags Seungkwan along by the wrist, and they slide further down the ditch until they’re in a field of dry grass. The five sling themselves around several bales of hay and dive into the forest, where they are no longer followed.
They don’t stop running until they’re on the other side of the forest, tripping over overgrown roots and smacking aside low-hanging branches. They cross a small dirt road, and Seokmin is the only one to notice a light flickering on somewhere in the distance.
“There!” Seokmin yells, pointing ahead.
The grass is cold and crunching underneath their feet in the early December air. All of them are shivering except seungcheol, cold without jackets or blankets or anything to cover themselves up and shield themselves against the cold. There is a big wooden fence that they climb over, and they finally see the source of the light: a farmhouse, standing alone and big in the middle of the field.
Seungcheol throws himself at the front door and tries it, finding it cracked open slightly. He opens it swiftly, and they are thrown into more darkness.
Jihoon slams the door closed and they finally have a moment to breathe in the silence. Seokmin catches his breath, thankful to not be running anymore, but he freezes up when they hear scuffling above.
“Let’s see who that is,” Seungcheol says.
“Wait!” Minghao yelps. “What if that’s the owner and they kick us out?”
“They wouldn’t kick out a cop,” Seungcheol says simply, shrugging. “Stay down here if you want, but make sure all the doors and windows leading outside are closed and locked.”
Seokmin leaves immediately, flicking on an oil lamp standing on the large dining table in the middle of the room and checking all their surrounding doors and windows. Minghao is forced to stay standing as Seungkwan shakes and doesn’t want to let go of him, and Jihoon is swift to follow after Seokmin.
3:51 AM
Seungcheol creeps up the stairs he finds to the left of the room, careful not to make any noise should there be an undead creature somewhere inside the house. He holds his rifle tight in his hands so they’ll stop shaking, reassuring himself that he’ll be fine as he reaches the landing on the second floor.
It’s dark, and when he flips the light switch, nothing happens. Seungcheol reaches for his left hip, where he keeps a small flashlight, and clicks it on. The clicking noise is loud and echoes through the space.
Something groans in a room to the right. Seungcheol whips around, the flashlight illuminating a small boy kneeling over something. Upon closer inspection, Seungcheol sees that the thing the boy kneels over is the body of a man, stomach ripped open and gutted. The boy’s head is covered in blood, his skull burst to pieces and brain matter spilling on his back. On the bed in the room lies a woman with her neck chewed away and her heart half ripped out of her chest.
Seungcheol gasps, and the noise makes the boy turn around jerkily. His white eyes are bleeding, and his skin is yellow-ish.. He snarls at Seungcheol, exposing green teeth. With swift movements, the boy gallops towards Seungcheol on all fours, and not knowing what else to do, Seungcheol drops his flashlight and shoots several rounds into the boy’s head.
The shots ring through the room after they are fired. Seungcheol steps into the room and confirms the boy is dead before he leans down and picks up his flashlight. When he turns back around to return to the landing, his light illuminates the pale face of an older, scared boy.
Seungcheol glances into the room, and closes the door with a nudge of his foot.
“Is there anyone else inside the house?” Seungcheol says.
“My parents and my brother,” the boy says. Why did you shoot? I heard growling…”
Seungcheol steps aside to block the boy from getting into the room. Fuck , he thinks to himself, that was his family .
“Let’s go downstairs,” Seungcheol says, tucking away his gun. “What’s your name?”
“Junhui,” the boy says. “Where are my parents? And my brother?”
“We should go downstairs,” Seungcheol repeats. “We can talk there. Do you have tea, Junhui?”
4:09 AM
Minghao is leaning against the hand-carved, wooden bar in the kitchen. His eyes are focused on Junhui, who pours water from a big, plastic bottle and into a kettle after discovering the tap doesn’t work anymore. Junhui’s hands are shaking, spilling water onto the counter.
“Do you want some help?” Minghao says quietly, careful not to startle Junhui. His attempts are fruitless; Junhui jumps slightly and spills more water.
Minghao pushes off from the bar and makes his way to Junhui very carefully, taking the water bottle from his hands. He pours the remaining water carefully, and then grabs a cloth that hangs from a hook to try and clean up the water. He tosses the wet rag in the sink and brings the kettle to the stove, thanking God that it’s a gas stove and that they only need a lighter to turn it on and no electricity.
It only takes a few moments for the water to cook, and Minghao dumps whatever tea leaves he finds inside the kettle before he takes it over to the breakfast table, where Jihoon is dishing out a variety of teacups he found in a cupboard. Minghao pours the tea slowly, and takes his own cup before sitting between Seokmin and Seungkwan, across from Seungcheol, Jihoon, and a distant Junhui.
“What the fuck is going on?” Jihoon demands from Seungcheol.
“A bomb was dropped–”
“Obviously,” Jihoon snarls.
“– and ,” Seungcheol continues, glaring at Jihoon for interrupting, “the chemicals released during the explosion must have mixed with the chemicals from the science center in New York. That’s my best guess.”
“That doesn’t explain those–those things ,” Seokmin says.
“It does,” Minghao says. “When the cars stopped working on the highway, just about everyone left their car to look at the bomb. They were exposed to the air. We stayed inside the car and weren’t exposed to the air. The chemicals were probably spreading through the air and were gone by the time we left the car.”
“Did your brother perhaps leave his window open?” Seungcheol asks Junhui.
Junhui stares into his tea, eyes empty. “It’s a clear night tonight. He loves the stars. Dad told him to close the window when we got the warning, but he refused… I just holed myself up in my room…”
“I’m sorry,” Minghao says sincerely. “I can’t imagine what that must feel like.”
Junhui shakes himself from his throughs. “Were you the ones running outside? I saw with my brother’s binoculars. I turned on my light because I hoped you’d see it.”
“We were,” Jihoon confirms. “We came from the highway.”
“Was it bad there?”
“Not as bad as closer to the city, I assume,” Seungcheol says. “This was from hours of exposure. I didn’t fall asleep until it was almost midnight, and nothing was wrong then.”
“Did anything pass by here?” Seokmin asks Junhui.
Junhui shakes his head, “It was just my brother. I didn’t know what to do, so I locked my door and sat by the window the entire night.”
“And there’s no-one else here, right?”
“No,” Junhui says. “But I was texting my friend before my phone died. We’re in the same dance club, and he didn’t know what to do and nobody else responded to his calls.”
“Should we expect him?”
“Yeah, he should’ve left an hour ago. He’ll be here any moment.”
“Okay,” Seungcheol nods.
“You guys can… you guys can stay here, if you want,” Junhui says. “It’s the least I can do.”
“That’s kind of you,” Seungcheol says. “I’ll take the couch, if you have one available. I can keep watch for the night.”
Junhui leaves his tea untouched to show Seungcheol to the living room, where Seungcheol takes a seat on the edge of the pillows. Junhui begins to lead the others to the stairs, but then he pauses.
“We should stay down here, I suppose,” Junhui says. “I don’t think d-dead people smell that pleasant.”
“Okay,” Seokmin says softly. “Just tell me where the blankets are, I can go get them.”
“First door to the left,” Junhui murmurs, and he turns around and stalks back into the living room.
7:14 AM
Seungcheol is still awake as the sun begins to rise, looking at the dusk. His pistol spins in his hands, absent-minded as he stares out the door he and the others came through. All night, he’d been looking for movement outside, any indication that Junhui’s friend, or anyone else, would be here.
Eventually, the others begin to stir as light spills into the living room. Jihoon is awake first, sitting up from where he’d been curled into a tiny ball on the couch. He stares out the window for a moment, his red hair mussed up, and then he points.
“Someone’s coming up the driveway.”
Seungcheol sits up. Junhui steps into the room from the kitchen, where he’d sat at the breakfast table the entire night. Indeed, a blond-haired boy is making his way up the driveway, dragging a backpack with him.
“Wait–Junhui–”
Seungcheol isn’t up in time to stop Junhui from pulling open the door and running outside. Through the doorway, Seungcheol and Jihoon watch as Junhui throws himself into the arms of the blond.
“I suppose that’s his friend,” Jihoon says, and he pulls the blanket tighter around his shoulders to step outside. Seungcheol follows him.
The boy introduces himself as Soonyoung, fellow member and captain of Junhui’s dance club. He seems fine, mostly a little shaken, and he simply states he saw a pile of dead people on the way here. Seungcheol, a trained cop, knows when someone lies, but he doesn’t say anything as Minghao calls from the doorway that they should come inside before they catch a cold.
Minghao says he’ll make tea again and leaves to the kitchen, shortly followed by Seungkwan and Seokmin.
“No trouble out there?” Seungcheol asks Soonyoung.
“No,” Soonyoung says. “Just those… dead… people… It was stupidly quiet, though. Where’s Fengjun, Junhui?”
Junhui stills.
“If you’re asking for his brother, he turned into one of those creatures during the night,” Seungcheol tells him.
Soonyoung looks at Seungcheol from the corner of his eyes. “You’re a cop.”
“Good catch,” Seungcheol says dryly. “I’m not gonna shoot the place up, if you’re concerned about that.”
“No, I was just curious. Is it just you six here? What about your parents, Junhui?”
“Dead,” Junhui says flatly. “It’s just us. Nobody else will come in. I’m not risking anything.”
“Tea’s ready, for those who want some,” Minghao says from the doorway to the kitchen. He disappears again, and they hear Seungkwan say something inaudible that makes Seokmin cackle out a laugh.
“Doesn’t seem like it’ll be bad,” Soonyoung shrugs, smiling, and he takes Junhui around the shoulders to the kitchen.
5:13 PM
Jisoo initially has some trouble starting the car after he sees the cloud of ashes coming towards him, but once he’s actually able to get the engine going, he speeds away from his house. He’s on the main road within minutes, but the ashes from the Yellowstone volcanic eruption, triggered by an apparent bomb dropping on New York, have caught up to him. He uses the windshield wipers to try and get some visibility, but he can barely see a foot before him.
It’s been a long time since he last drove–he usually only drives his dad to the hospital–and these driving conditions aren’t ideal at all. There’s nobody on the roads, but lights are on inside houses, a soft glow coming through the ashes as they rain down.
There’s a disturbance at the side of the road, and Jisoo slows down when he sees two human figures. He slams his hand on the wheel, honking the horn until he manages to get their attention and they shuffle closer.
They’re two boys, obviously very young. They are covering their mouths with sleeved hands. The first one is shorter, and underneath a layer of ash, Jisoo can see that both of them have brown hair.
They open the door to the backseat, and stumble inside. Jisoo urges them to close the door with his own mouth covered, and he reaches for the passenger’s seat to grab some of the water bottles he’d thrown in the car.
“Are you two okay?” Jisoo asks, turning around to hand the water bottles to the boys.
“Yeah,” the taller of the two says, his voice hoarse.
“How long were you out in those ashes for?”
“Not long,” the boy says. “Who are you?”
“I’m Jisoo,” Jisoo says. The boy introduces himself as Hansol, and the shorter one introduces himself as Chan.
“Why did you save us?” Chan asks, a fearful innocence on his face.
Jisoo is a little taken aback with the question, and he shrugs.
“I’d want someone to help me if I were outside right now, too.”
In the backseat, Chan smiles.
“We need to get out of here,” Hansol says. “The ashes are only gonna get worse, I think.”
“Do you guys want to pick up your parents or siblings or anyone?”
“Fuck them,” Chan mutters, the smile wiped from his face. Jisoo looks at him curiously, but doesn’t press further.
“No, let’s just go,” Hansol says uncomfortably. “I heard Toronto has a safety camp set up, since they’re outside the blow-zone. The ashes won’t be bad there.”
Jisoo puts the car back into drive again, and they speed down the street to get to Toronto within the day.
6:37 AM
Being the most capable of shooting a gun, Mingyu is stationed at the door to the warehouse they’re hiding in, looking out the door and at all the creatures that walk past the streets.
Jeonghan and Wonu are by the radio, listening in to a government broadcast. All the borders with other countries are closed, and no person is able to enter or leave Canada and America. The camp that was set up to help those affected by the Yellowstone volcanic eruption and those affected by the bombing of New York City was overtaken by the Walkers hours ago.
According to the news broadcast, they have no real solid explanation for the Walkers at the moment. They’re not like zombies as depicted in shows like The Walking Dead or Night of the Living Dead, but they’re not exactly human, either.
The closest Synthetic is roaming by the door, not noticing Mingyu seated on the pile of crates. They’re blind, but very attracted to sound, thus why the radio is stationed underneath a mountain of blankets strung across strings attached to the sides of the large, metal shipping containers.
Finally, Mingyu abandons his post by the door and makes his way to the tent of blankets, diving between a flap to get inside.
An oil lamp brightens the darkness, and Wonu is sitting on a crate of canned soup and boxed crackers, a book he’d taken from the local library in Toronto he worked at on his lap. By his side, his book bag is open and three more books peek out. Jeonghan is sitting by the radio, switching through channels to see if there is any new information for them to learn. Little Erin is sitting on the floor, swaddled in the fluffiest blanket found in the warehouse, and playing with a doll she took with her from home.
“Nothing?” Mingyu asks, walking towards Wonu and putting the gun down. It’s just a pistol that he’d found on his way to the safe zone.
“No,” Jeonghan says. “But we can’t stay here forever. They’re advising us to always be on the move.”
“We don’t have a car,” Mingyu says.
“Doesn’t hurt to walk.”
“Until we die from exhaustion, or until the Walkers catch up to us?” Mingyu snorts. “Right, sounds like a perfect plan–”
“ Shh! ”
Mingyu looks around at Wonu; the man is peering at the blankets. Jeonghan shuts off the radio, and Mingyu grabs his pistol at lightning speed.
Someone has entered the warehouse; their feet are dragging continuously over the floor, and it’s making a whining noise as if something is wrong. Mingyu takes slow and careful steps to the entrance of the shipping container while Wonu and Jeonghan hold their breath, afraid to let out the tiniest of sounds. Erin is immediately scooped up into Wonu’s arms to keep her quiet.
Mingyu carefully moves the blankets aside, and he doesn’t see anything at first. Then he averts his gaze to the ground, and he sees the Walker there. It has a baby’s arm growing out of its mouth, and its brains are blown out. Its legs are gone and it simply drags empty strands of meat behind itself. It looks miserably at Mingyu.
“Kill it,” Jeonghan says quietly, looking over Mingyu’s shoulder. “Take it out of its misery.”
Mingyu cocks the gun, biting the tip of his tongue as he lines up his shot. The first bullet enters the Walker’s mouth, though it doesn’t die. The second bullet is to the forehead.
Mingyu turns away from the dead Walker, back into the comfort of the shipping container.
10:44 AM
When it’s a little brighter outside, they venture onto the lands surrounding the house. Junhui opts to stay inside, watching through the window with Soonyoung hovering over his shoulder while Seungcheol scouts the area with his rifle. Seungkwan and Seokmin, wrapped in jackets and scarves, are running around the field and enjoying the fresh air.
“Not going out?” Minghao asks Jihoon, who sits on the chair by the front door.
“I’ll stay,” Jihoon says. “Keep an eye on those two.”
“They can be quite… unexpected sometimes,” Minghao chuckles.
Jihoon smiles and shoos him off.
Minghao steps down the wooden stairs, listening to them creak underneath his feet, and once he’s on the dirt path he begins to trek to the far shed he’d seen through the window earlier in the morning.
It’s a beautiful property, Minghao has to admit. The light dew crunches underfoot when he takes off the path and into the tall grass, coming nearer to the shed. There, he finds a paddock, and when he turns around the wall to see, he comes face-to-face with three horses.
“Oh!” Minghao says, slightly surprised as the horses notice him and hinnick. “Hello…”
Minghao steps close and pets the nearest horse, a brown mare, over the fence. Once he feels he’s gained her trust a bit, he steps closer, and she nudges his head with her nose.
“She likes you.”
With a small yelp, Minghao turns around. Junhui has crept up on him.
“Sorry. I saw you going here through the window.”
“It’s okay,” Minghao says. “Are they yours?”
“Yeah,” Junhui says. “That’s my brother’s mare. The other two are mine and my dad’s. My mom was never that fond of horses.”
“Ah,” Minghao says.
It’s a bit uncomfortable, standing with just Junhui, who has clear tear-tracks on his face. Eventually, Junhui comes closer and pats the mare on her neck.
“Did you… did you guys ride them too, or…?”
“We did,” Junhui says. “We haven’t in a while, though. My brother broke his leg in the spring and it kinda stopped there.”
Junhui stares at the mare for a few seconds, plucking away a few bits of hay from her mane. Then he turns to Minghao with a smile on his face. “Do you want to learn?”
“How to ride, you mean?” Minghao says. “I could give it a try. I’m better on my feet, though.”
“Yeah?”
“I dance,” Minghao says off-handedly, shrugging away the excitement on Junhui’s face. “Okay, isn’t there a bridal, or something?”
“A bridle,” Junhui corrects. “Is that what you mean?”
“Yeah, sure,” Minghao grins.
Junhiu takes Minghao to the back of the shed, where there is a small door. Inside the room they enter is a collection of saddles and reins. Junhui shows him the proper equipment and he takes his brother’s mare towards the fence. He gives Minghao a quick run-down of the proper way to put on the equipment, and then he helps Minghao onto the saddle.
“How’s that?” Junhui asks, adjusting the stirrups and holding Minghao’s ankle in place. “All good?”
“I suppose,” Minghao grins.”
“You seem inexplicably happy up there,” Junhui says.
“I’ve always wanted to ride a horse,” Minghao says. “My parents just thought it was a bit too dangerous.”
“I understand why,” Junhui says. “There’s a lot of risks… If we were at a proper barn, you’d have to get them to sign waivers and all that.”
“Yeah,” Minghao says. “Not the most exciting part about riding a horse now, is it?”
Junhui laughs quietly, and he takes the mare by the reins to walk her around the paddock. Minghao enjoys the feeling of the cool breeze in his hair, and by the time they’ve finished their second walk around the paddock, Seungcheol has finished checking out the area and is leaning against the fence, watching them with happy eyes.
“You know, for having met us just yesterday, you seem very fond of us,” Minghao jokes, and Seungcheol rolls his eyes.
“It’s peaceful out here,” he says. “Are you having fun up there, Minghao?”
“It’s great,” Minghao says.
“Say, Junhui, you don’t have anything we can eat, do you?” Seungcheol says, directing his attention to Junhui. “I’m getting a little hungry.”
“Sure,” Junhui says. “Here, Minghao. Just sling your right leg over the saddle and push off her back–”
Minghao does, and falls flat on his ass. Junhui and Seungcheol burst out into laughter, which is only fueled when a disgruntled Minghao glares at them as they walk back to the house.
12:35 PM
“There’s a safe-zone out by Toronto,” Jihoon says, perking up from where he’d been messing with the radio in the car of Junhui’s parents, an old, bright blue pickup truck, for the past day. “I just heard it in passing when I connected the wires.”
A safe-zone?” Seungkwan says hopefully. He looks at Seungcheol, who has just finished the measly lunch they’d made. “We can go there, can’t we?”
“How far away is Toronto?”
“Couple hours?” Jihoon guesses.
“We can go, sure,” Seungcheol says. “It’s worth checking out.”
Just then, Seokmin approaches them from the front porch. There’s an unreadable look on his face, but his eyes give away that he’s frightened.
“What’s wrong?” Seungcheol asks immediately, abandoning his plate on the edge of the truck. Soonyoung perks up from where he’d been slung over the headrest of the passenger’s seat and watching Jihoon work.
“Someone’s in the house.”
Seungcheol looks towards the paddocks, where Junhui is teaching Minghao how to trot on a horse. He feels uneasy.
Gripping his rifle a little tighter, Seungcheol begins his stride towards the house. He opens the door cautiously, warns the others to stay behind, and steps inside with quiet footsteps.
Seokmin was right, someone is inside. Seungcheol poises his rifle in front of him and crouches lower, hiding around the corner of the hallway before he turns around it. He hears a gun go off, but it isn’t his. Something burns into his stomach and the feeling spreads swiftly. His head hits the wall before he passes out.
12:57 PM
“Don’t squeeze your legs too hard, that’ll make her think you want her to gallop,” Junhui says, slipping his hand between Minghao’s knee and the saddle to push it out. “And if you pull on the reins to stop her, that’ll just give her mixed signals. Your legs are telling her to move faster, but your hands are telling her to stop.”
“Okay,” Minghao says nervously, loosening his legs.
It feels uncomfortable, but Junhui urges him to keep trotting for a bit without turning it into an accidental gallop. Minghao pulls on the reins after a few seconds, and the mare stops her trot and switches to a slow walk. Minghao pulls again, and she comes to a full stop.
“Good job,” Junhui says, grinning. He walks towards Minghao and the horse, and pats the mare’s neck. “She’s so good. That’s why we chose her for my brother, he was a little scared of horses at first.
“Yeah, she’s a sweetheart,” Minghao agrees, petting the mare’s shoulder where he can reach.
BANG!
Minghao and Junhui freeze, staring at each other as their heads snap up and then towards the house. At the front door, they see Seungkwan, Seokmin, Soonyoung, and Jihoon gathered. Minghao feels uneasy.
Junhui abandons the paddocks and rushes towards the house, jumping the fence with practiced skill. Minghao struggles off the mare and ties her to the fence before following, the riding boots Junhui had lent him sloshing in the mud.
“What’s going on?” Minghao demands as soon as he’s at the house.
“Someone was in the house,” Seokmin says, on the verge of freaking out. “Seungcheol went to check it out–Seungcheol!”
“Shut up, you fool!” Jihoon snaps. “You think yelling will help?”
“Well it can’t hurt to try!” Seokmin snaps back, and Minghao huffs.
“Move,” he says harshly, pushing them out of the way.
“But–Seungcheol told us to stay back–” Seungkwan tries, scrambling to grab Minghao’s jacket, but Minghao has already entered the home, the heels of his boots clacking on the tiled floor of the entranceway.
Minghao walks towards the living room, finding blood splattered on the floor. He looks down at the pool of blood that is spreading over the tiles where Seungcheol lays before he looks up, and he has to crouch down suddenly when a gun is raised at him and several more shots fire.
“What the fuck ?” Minghao says, straightening up again when the shots have stopped.
In front of him stands a man, his hair long and unruly and a gun in his dirt-caked hands. His eyes are wide and crazy.
“Who are you?” the man demands.
“I could ask you the same question. Why did you shoot my friend?”
The man looks freaked out, pointing his gun down at Minghao’s foot to try and shoot him, but Minghao is a trained dancer and his instincts tell him to get out of the way. The tile shatters from the impact of the bullet, and the man turns on his heel and sprints out of the house.
Minghao picks up Seungcheol’s dropped rifle, shooting several rounds after the man. None of the bullets hit (Minghao has never shot a gun before, after all) and he drops it immediately when Seungcheol groans.
“Minghao?” Seokmin calls as he hurries into the house. “Who was it?”
“Some asshole with a gun,” Minghao says, dropping to his knees and pressing to the source of the blood on Seungcheol’s middle.
“What do we do?” Seungkwan says, sounding panicked and staring at the copious amount of blood. “Does anyone here have any knowledge about medicine and shit?”
“I don’t know–I worked with kids, I treated scraped knees and papercuts, not bullet wounds,” Jihoon says.
“Is there a hospital nearby?” Seokmin asks, his hands visibly shaking.
Junhui shakes his head. “The closest was in New York City, it’s probably gone.”
“Well there’s gotta be something!” Seungkwan yelps.
“The safe zone,” Jihoon says. Everyone looks up at him. “There’s–there’s a safe zone somewhere by Toronto, I heard it passing on the radio when I was fucking around with the wires in the car.”
“That’s an eight hour drive,” Junhui says. “Maybe even nine. Will he even survive that?”
“He’s gotta, it’s just a shot to his side,” Minghao says. “I don’t think his internal organs were hit… hopefully it’s just the pain.”
“His nerves have gotta be fried,” Jihoon says.
“We don’t have any more food,” Seokmin points out, motioning towards the cabinets that were previously stocked with food but now empty.
“The safe zone will have it,” Jihoon says firmly.
“How will we get there?” Seungkwan asks with a shaky voice. “The truck can’t hold us all.”
They glance around at one another, clueless until Junhui rolls his eyes.
“You guys are stupid. We’ve got horses, don’t we?”
8:13 AM
As every day starts, Wonu is waiting for breakfast (soup) to be cooked by reading his book. Jeonghan is fiddling with the knobs on the radio, switching between channels. Little Erin is sitting on Wonu’s lap and attempting to read along, but she is only four years old and can barely tell apart her b’s from her d’s. They’re out on the rooftop this time, sitting in the early December sun before it gets too cold to enjoy the weather outside.
Mingyu sits with his forearms resting on his knees, his pistol hanging unused from his finger. It’s been a calm day so far, with none of the Walkers coming anywhere close to the warehouse. Of course, they’re able to hear the radio on the rooftop, but they’ve got no clue where it’s coming from and roam around aimlessly in search of it.
“What’s going on over there?” Jeonghan says suddenly.
Mingyu looks behind him at Jeonghan and then towards where Jeonghan is looking. At the gates surrounding the warehouses, put there in a fruitless attempt to keep the Walkers out of the safe zone, Walkers are gathering. They’re slamming their peeling fingers against the chicken wire fence, and from afar, Mingyu can see a black car parked right outside the gates, several figures moving inside.
“People,” Mingyu murmurs, and they all stand up swiftly to hurry down the ladder to the second floor of the warehouse, and then to the first floor by running down the stairs.
Jeonghan and Wonu deposit their radio and book at the tent they’d set up. Mingyu hands them two more pistols for defense, Jeonghan tells little Erin to stay put and to not come out no matter what, and they venture past the doors.
The Walkers don’t notice the three gunned men, only focusing on the man and the two boys sitting in the black car. In the backseat, the two boys are screaming and crying for help, and in the front, the man is yelling at them to stay quiet.
Mingyu shoots through the chicken wire at the Walker that is scratching at the window of the driver’s side, successfully bringing it down. The three occupants of the car look at Mingyu, Wonu, and Jeonghan, and Jeonghan screams that he’s going for the lever that will open the fence.
Wonu and Mingyu continue to shoot at the Walkers inside the fence, shoving their bodies aside with their feet. When the fence begins to move to allow for the car to come inside, Mingyu and Wonu jump aside. The man behind the wheel revs the engine, and speeds into the safe zone, successfully taking out several Walkers by hitting them.
The car comes to a screeching halt as Jeonghan flicks the lever back up to close the gate. Mingyu and Wonu fight through the remaining Walkers at the gate that try to get close. Once the fence locks back into place, Mingyu runs towards the car and knocks on the driver’s side window. The man rolls it down.
“Go towards that warehouse!” Mingyu yells, pointing toward the warehouse they’d been in for the past three days. “Be quick, more Walkers are gonna show up with all the noise!”
The man nods, and Mingyu beckons Wonu and Jeonghan over as the car speeds off toward the warehouse.
“I don’t trust them,” Wonu says. “What if they’re gonna cause trouble?”
“We’ve got guns,” Jeonghan says firmly. “One foot out of line, and they’ll have a bullet in their heads.”
Mingyu and Wonu nod firmly, and they turn to get into the warehouse and out of the open. The moment they step inside the warehouse, they have their guns pointed at the newcomers. There’s just the two kids and the older man, and they have their arms up in moments.
“Who are you and why are you here?” Mingyu demands.
“I’m–I’m Jisoo, that’s Hansol and Chan,” the man says, his voice shaking as he jerks his head towards Hansol and Chan. “We’re just here looking for the safe zone, we promise–just tell us where it is and we’ll be out of your hair, I swear!”
“Tough luck,” Jeonghan says, lowering his gun. “This was the safe zone. It’s overrun from the hole in the fence.”
Jisoo looks at Hansol and Chan with a hopeless look in his eyes.
“Are you serious?” Hansol says. The three slowly lower their arms and Wonu lowers his gun as well, but Mingyu is still alert, staring off at the door behind Chan. “But–”
“Yeah,” Jeonghan says. “I was supposed to be one of their medics, and Mingyu here was supposed to be one of their soldiers. Looks like the plan failed, doesn’t it?”
“So we’re just… not safe anywhere?” Hansol asks.
“I suppose not,” Wonu says. “I’m Wonu.”
“Jeonghan,” Jeonghan introduces.
“Duck,” Mingyu commands, and Chan kneels down with terrified eyes. Mingyu raises his run with a strong grip and fires a shot at the Walker that has snuck into the warehouse.
“It’s getting dangerous here,” Mingyu says, watching the Walker crumple. Chan stands up again.
“So we should leave again, right?” Jisoo says. “We could probably squeeze six people into my dad’s car, it’s not that small–”
“Who says we’re going with you?” Jeonghan asks.
“Well, I just thought you’d want to come,” Jisoo says quickly. “It’s totally fine if you don’t want to, but–”
“We’ll think about it,” Jeonghan says. “For now, let’s stay low. Come on, are you guys hungry? You must’ve come from far. Erin? Can you grab some food for me, sweetheart? Just the soup!”
Jeonghan leads Jisoo, Hansol, and Chan into their tent set-up to get the makeshift stove started. From beyond the tent, Erin squeals with joy at her father’s return.
“Mingyu,” Wonu says quietly, stepping towards Mingyu and putting his hand on Mingyu’s bicep. “Come and get some rest. You’ve been awake all night.”
Mingyu blinks and looks towards Wonu.
“It’s okay,” Mingyu says. “I just want to make sure you, Jeonghan, and Erin are safe.”
“If you’re sure,” Wonu says.
Mingyu lifts a hand from his pistol to grab Wonu’s hand by the fingers, bringing it up to his mouth to press a brief kiss to his knuckles.
“Just take care of yourself, okay?” Wonu says. “I won’t intervene as long as you keep yourself well.”
Mingyu leans forward to peck Wonu’s lips.
“I’ll be okay,” he says when he leans back. “Promise. Go make sure Jeonghan’s okay.”
Wonu nods, his fingers slipping from Mingyu’s hand. Mingyu leans against the metal pole behind him with his pistol held tight as Wonu turns and disappears into the tent.
1:58 PM
Soonyoung and Junhui are very obviously far more experienced when it comes to horseback riding, mounting the two horses belonging to Junhui himself and Junhui’s dad a little less clumsy than Minghao does. Still, Minghao doesn’t feel that uncomfortable on the mare’s back, and he hears from Junhui that he’s sitting on Cinnamon.
Seungcheol is loaded into the backseat of the truck, where Seungkwan sits with him to keep the bandages they’d found in Junhui’s upstairs bathroom tightly against the wound in his abdomen. Seokmin, though a little inexperienced when it comes to driving but not that bad of a driver, is revving up the engine and getting a feel for the car, and Jihoon has positioned himself in the trunk of the truck with Seungcheol’s rifle.
Minghao, Junhui, and Soonyoung are sitting on their horses, preparing to sit for a long while. They’re all carrying pistols they’d found in the duffel bag Seungcheol had taken from his police car , and they’re decked out with water and food for on the road. Thick winter jackets belonging to Junhui’s family are wrapped tightly around them, and just in case, thick gloves are tucked into their pockets so they won’t freeze their fingers off once the sun sets during their trip. Seokmin has the brights turned on, but Minghao, Junhui, and Soonyoung still have flashlights to lead the way ahead.
It’s a bit chaotic, Minghao thinks, but it’ll do for now.
“Soonyoung and Minghao, you guys go out to the front,” Junhui says, turning his beautiful black stallion, Black Dahlia, around. Seokmin sticks his head out the window to listen as well. “I’ll go to the back and keep an eye out there. Seokmin, if you get tired and need to switch with Jihoon, just flash your brights once or twice, we’ll stop.”
“Got it,” Seokmin says, grinning and giving a thumbs-up.
Minghao’s watch says it’s just past two in the afternoon when he and Soonyoung set off first, leading their small parade.
Minghao has a map with him, one that Junhui had given him. The route to the safe zone near Hamilton, Ontario is highlighted, and the farmhouse is circled.
The trek starts out slow, with not many of them talking as they fear Seungcheol’s condition. Seungcheol has done nothing but look out for them, sacrificing rest and being the first to check out problems should they arise. Minghao is a little thankful that they’ve all decided to help him out–they owe it to him to take care of him, at least.
Minghao and Soonyoung both use the map to lead the group, passing it between one another as they walk when their hands get tired or when they need a break. Eventually, their conversation strays from the map and the path to their lives before the bomb. Soonyoung gets exceptionally excited when he learns that Minghao was in a performing arts school for dance.
“What’s your primary style?”
“B-Boying,” Minghao says proudly. “I’ve been doing it for too many years to count.”
“So your parents weren’t fine with you riding a horse that is practically harmless, especially a horse trained for beginners, but they encouraged you flipping through the air and risking breaking your neck?” Soonyoung laughs. “Sounds like A-game parenting to me.”
“Well, they didn’t like that part, but they liked seeing me dance,” Minghaoexplains. “Maybe I’ll get Seungkwan to sing for me sometime, we’ve got great chemistry on stage.”
“Seungkwan sings?” Soonyoung says, surprised. “Damn, y’all can start a band.”
Minghao snorts. “A band?” Seungkwan sings and that’s it. Neither of us play any instruments.”
“You could be like Tyler Joseph and Josh Dun,” Soonyoung says, suddenly serious. “Like, one of you could play the bass or the guitar or whatever and the other the drums. Like, imagine how cool that would be!”
“Being rip-off Twenty One Pilots?” Minghao says with a laugh. “Don’t get me started on that shit. It’d be terrible.”
“You’d be fine,” Soonyoung says. “Anyway, you should dance with Junhui and I, it’d be amazing. We’ve been having Christopher do our tricks and stuff but he sucks ass at it because he’s not trained.”
Minghao smiles, “Maybe. Once we can get some music rolling we could have a dance-off.”
It’s a joke, but Soonyoung looks as if he’s considering it. Minghao shakes his head, laughing.
“I think you two are having too much fun talking up there,” Seokmin calls out the window.
“Shut up, will you? They’re attracted to sound!” Soonyoung says back.
They hear Jihoon snort in the trunk, and they all laugh merrily. For some reason, despite the past three days being absolutely terrible and stress-inducing, Minghao feels a little more free.
3:42 PM
They’re loud.
Too loud.
Jihoon and Junhui are dead quiet, Junhui’s stallion having picked up on something. The stallion’s ears perk up and to the side, turning his head to the right. Junhui’s got his pistol out in seconds and the clicking of it being taken off the safety shuts everyone up.
“What’s going on?” Soonyoung asks, turning around on the golden mare, Penny.
“You guys are fuckin’ loud, that’s what’s going on,” Jihoon growls. “Shut up, there’s something out there.”
Minghao and Soonyoung get their pistols out as well, and Junhui carefully shines his flashlight towards where Dahlia heard the sound. There’s no movement between the bushes, but suddenly Daglua turns his head towards the left, and something jumps out from the bushes and towards Jihoon.
“ NO! ” Minghao screams as Jihoon loses his grip on the rifle, wrestling with the creature.
Junhui is there within moments, shooting the Walker. It takes several careful shots to hit the Walker and not Jihoon, but miraculously Jihoon doesn’t get shot. The creature takes a bullet to the neck and Jihoon pushes it off the car.
“Seokmin, gas it!” Jihoon yells, holding onto the side of the trunk tightly.
More Walkers are coming from the trees, attracted by the loud laughing and the screaming, and Junhui presses his heels into Dahlia’s stomach to urge her to move faster. Minghao and Soonyoung send their horses into a fast gallop as well, and Seokmin slams his foot down on the gas while Jihoon leans over the edge of the trunk to shoot at the Walkers.
Junhui goes faster until he’s at the side of the car, yelling at Soonyoung and Minghao to move to the side to let Seokmin go further up.
One of the Walkers stumbles into their path, groaning as it sees its potential victims. Cinnamon startles, and Minghao struggles to keep her under control as she bucks her front legs at the Walker. Cinnamon takes off running into the trees, and Soonyoung follows without hesitation.
Junhui leads the car to the left of a fork in the road, and they land in a small town. There, the Walkers are no longer following them, and they stop at a small convenience store with broken windows.
“We need a map,” Seokmin says to Junhui, who is already stepping off Dahlia so he can check on Seungcheol in the back.
“I know,” Junhui mutters. “I’ll go find one while I see if Minghao and Soonyoung are back where we split up.”
“Don’t stay out too long,” Jihoon says. “It’ll get dark soon.”
“I won’t,” Junhui assures him, peering into the window to the back seat to see that Seungkwan’s hands never lifted from stopping the bleeding. “You keep them safe, okay? And if we don’t find Minghao and Soonyoung, we’ll just keep going to the safe zone. Maybe they’ll have enough common sense to go there, too…”
6:49 PM
It takes hours for Minghao and Soonyoung to lose the creatures that are following them. They’re fast on horse, but speed equals noise, and more Walkers jump out at them from the bushes.
Eventually, though, they are safe, stopping by a lone streetlight that isn’t on despite the dark.
“What do we do now?” Minghao asks, out of breath from escaping. His heart is hammering in his chest. “Do you know where we are?”
“No clue,” Soonyoung says. “Fuck, we should’ve decided on what to do in case this happened!”
“They don’t have a map…”
“Yes, and we have barely any food,” Soonyoung growls. “This is bad–this is very bad…”
“Should we just go to the safe zone? Minghao asks, trying to push down his panic.
“What if we get there and they’re not there?” Soonyoung demands. “We go and do what, return to Junhui’s house? That’s three days we’ll waste! And if they’re not there–”
“It doesn’t hurt to try!” Minghao counters desperately. “ Please , Soonyoung! We’ve gotta at least try!”
Soonyoung stares at Minghao. Both their eyes are wide and red with unshed tears. Finally, Soonyoung looks away and caves.
“Okay. We’ll go to the safe zone.”
9:01 PM
“There’s more people.”
Jeonghan perks up at Mingyu’s announcement, heading for where Mingyu is posted by the door of the warehouse. Jisoo follows him.
Two lights flicker through the bushes and into the darkness. The engine is roaring softly, and hooves clack on the road.
“Wonu,” Jeonghan says slowly, “stay here. We’re going outside.”
“Be careful,” Wonu cautions from the stove.
Jeonghan, Jisoo, and Mingyu walk outside into the dark, the surroundings of the warehouse eerily quiet with no Walkers roaming. Jeonghan reaches for his belt when they get closer to the fence, grabbing the flashlight clipped there and clicking it on to shine it at the newcomers.
“Holy shit!” someone breathes.
“I told you the place isn’t dead,” someone pipes up from the backseat. Despite the lilt of joy in their voice, they sound incredibly upset.
“Who are you?” Jeonghan demands, and Mingyu’s gun is raised to the man on horseback.
“We’re from New York,” the man on the horse says, a shake in his voice. “We–we heard about the safe zone. We need medical help, please–”
“Open the gates,” Jeonghan says immediately.
“Jeonghan–”
“Do you really want to leave injured people out there?” Jeonghan snaps to Mingyu. “Open the fucking gates!”
Jisoo hurries to the lever for the fence at the urgency in Jeonghan’s voice, pulling it and opening the gates. Several groans come from the depths of the night at the noise the fence makes, but Mingyu shoots the Walkers that get too close down in a heartbeat.
Jeonghan leads them to the warehouse where Wonu is with the others. The boy behind the wheel in the car turns it off, and steps out.
“Do you know how to treat gunshot wounds?” the boy asks.
“I do,” Jeonghan says. “I’m a trained medic. Who’s injured?”
“He’s in the back,” the boy says.
Jeonghan yanks open the door of the bright blue truck, finding a young boy with brown hair and a tear-streaked face pressing bandages to a wound that is no longer bleeding. Jeonghan steps into the car and the boy startles.
“Hey-woah–it’s okay, it’s okay,” Jeonghan soothes. “I can help. What’s your name?”
“Seungkwan,” the boy says, his voice shaking.
“I’m Jeonghan. Have you been holding those to the wound the entire time?”
“I-I have,” Seungkwan stutters. “He was bleeding a lot, but not anymore.”
“Alright, I’ll take a look, but I’ll need your help, okay?” Seungkwan nods. Jeonghan turns around to shout over his shoulder, “Can someone help me get him out of the car?”
The boy who had been on horseback steps forward, carefully grabbing the injured man and lifting him from the car. Jeonghan leads the way into the warehouse, and points them to a cot set up in a corner by a lamp. A small head peeks from between blankets hanging around the cot.
“Daddy?”
“Erin, go back to Wonu,” Jeonghan commands, snatching the first-aid kit from the ground. He retrieves tweezers, bandages, butterfly tape, and gauze from the kit, and briefly shoves the tweezers into the fire to disinfect them.
Seungkwan is still pressing the bandages against the man’s wound. Jeonghan gently instructs him to lift the bandages, and cringes at the wound. It’s no longer bleeding, as Seungkwan had said, and instead the blood has dried around the entrance wound. There’s no exit wound when Jeonghan feels for one, and upon closer look he sees the shimmering metal of a bullet wedged in the man’s flesh.
“Fuck,” Jeonghan sighs. He looks up at Seungkwan. “How good are you with blood?”
“I can handle it,” Seungkwan says, and despite the fear on his face, he also looks determined. “Tell me what you need me to do.”
Jeonghan wonders why Seungkwan is so determined to help the injured man. He files his question away for later.
“I’m going to take out the bullet, and he’s going to bleed,” Jeonghan says. “It’s going to bleed a lot . I need you to grab some fresh bandages, and as soon as I’ve got the bullet out, stop the bleeding . Think you can do that?”
Seungkwan nods. Jeonghan adjusts himself so he can lean over the man’s middle with his arm, and counts softly to three before he digs the tweezers into the wound.
The man jolts awake at the touch of the tweezers to his wound, and Seungkwan is barely in time to muffle his shouts. Jeonghan struggles to take out the bullet with the man moving around, but tries as fast as he can. The first time he has a grip on the bullet, it slips from between the arms of the tweezers when he tries to pull it up. The second time, he manages to take it out.
Immediately, Seungkwan takes his hand off the man’s mouth and presses clean bandages against the wound, immediately soaking ruby red. Jeonghan tosses the tweezers with the bullet aside and reaches for the butterfly tape when the man grasps his arm. Jeonghan peers down at the man’s wide, scared eyes.
“It’s okay,” Jeonghan says. “It’s almost over, I promise. The worst of it is done.”
The man doesn’t let go of his arm. Jeonghan reaches with his hand to peel the fingers off his bicep, and he hands the man over to Seungkwan, who holds his hand tightly.
“I’m going to put on the tape now,” Jeonghan says. “It won’t hurt as much as removing the bullet did. Ready? Seungkwan, hold him still please.”
Jeonghan pushes the bandages aside and is quick to tape the wound together, silently thanking the man for being able to tolerate such extended periods of pain. He finishes with the butterfly tape, and is quick to press the gauze against the wound before the butterfly tape can begin to let go of the unclean skin. Then, he tapes the gauze carefully around the edges with medical tape, and Seungkwan holds the man up into a sitting position so Jeonghan can wrap the bandages around his abdomen to ensure the gauze stays put and dirt stays out.
With Seungkwan’s help, Jeonghan gets the man, whose name he learns is Seungcheol, off the cot and through the hanging blankets to the fire for him to warm up after losing his shirt when Jeonghan cut it off. Seungcheol dozes off as soon as he’s by the warmth the fire provides, and Mingyupads over with a blanket that he drapes over Seungcheol’s shoulders.
Wonu has made them all soup and the boys eat it all greedily, as if they haven’t had a meal in forever.
They break the news that this used to be the safe zone when one of the boys, Jihoon, asks about it. Jisoo tells them sadly that he, too, was looking for it in hopes of a safe place to stay. Then, Junhui, the man that had ridden the horse, tells them they lost two of their friends while they traveled here.
“Do you have any clue where they might be?” Jeonghan asks hopefully. The more people surround him, the less he loses faith that hope is lost. He holds a little tighter onto his daughter.
“We lost them somewhere around route 84,” Junhui says.
“It’s about four-hundred miles from here,” Jihoon supplies.
“Did you guys come all the way from there?” Mingyu asks, surprised.
“New York City,” Seungkwan says. “We all lived around there… we’d been staking out on Junhui’s farm until someone came and stole our food and shot Seungcheol.”
“Is it a safe place?” Jeonghan asks. “Safer than here?”
“Probably,” Junhui says. “We didn’t run into any trouble, other than that man who stole from us and shot Seungcheol.
“Why?” the last boy, Seokmin, says. “Did you want to come back with us?”
“I’m thinking about it,” Jeonghan says. “If not all of us, me and my daughter will. We can bring food with us, and we can look for your friends on the way back. It’s not that long to travel here, right?”
The remainder of the night, Junhui spends writing a message on the wall with a can of spray paint that had been rolling around somewhere on the floor. They leave once the sun rises.