[fic] #022 - Waste 3/6
Title: Waste
Prompt: #139 - The Last of Us
Pairings: Tao/Kris, brief!Tao/Sehun, Xiumin/Luhan, other friendships/brotherly relationships (Tao/Kyungsoo, Kris/Kai, Kris/Chen, Kris/Baekhyun)
Summary: The world has decayed and taken everything Yifan loved with it. He has grown cold to the idea of becoming attached, when all that stands between you and a lover is a Clicker’s teeth. But as he is tasked with another smuggling mission, crossing into dangerous territory, both Infected and Human can’t part him from his prize.
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Gore, blood, lots of swearing, sexual content, attempted assault, violence, guns/bombs, and character death (includes mercy killing, child death, mentions of mass killings, and suicide)
Word count: 45,048
The trek was a little hazardous, considering that the town was not only littered with Infected, but also strung up to the nines with Jongdae’s homemade defence system. He clicked his tongue as those nimble fingers of his threaded thin filament through what looked like a tin can. He poured powder in through the slots, and threw in a handful of nails.
“Little invention of mine.” He snickered like a child as his thread was wrapped around the base of a post of a street sign, before marking its position on his ‘town map’ with a big red cross. “Conspiracy theorists might have gotten a hell of a lot of flak, but who are the ones living longest? God bless Max Brooks.”
Yifan thought about it for a bit, but decided against saying anything...whilst also shooting daggers at Zitao to prevent him from saying anything as well.
In the pause for silence, however, Jongdae clearly rambled. “Of course, Brooks didn’t depict a creature born from a damn mushroom. Bloody hell, it would’ve been nice to know that it was just Solanum...bites would be all we worried about, not fucking spores and airborne transmission...my planning would have been so much more effective than this, knowing that the fuckers ran!”
“Riveting, I’m certain...but we really do need to go and get those car parts.”
“And what, d’you expect me to be silent all the way there, listening to Pretty Boy with you? I had enough of the tween sensation back when the world was safe, I don’t want any more, thank you kindly.”
Zitao couldn’t save himself a snort. “Assfuck.”
“What was that, Pretty Boy? Because it sounded an awful lot like ‘emasculate me, Jongdae, I’m begging for your machete over my dick’.”
“...I didn’t say anything.”
“That’s what I thought. Now look.”
Camp Bonifas had gone downhill a lot in the two years that Yifan had been away from it. The signs had long decayed and fallen down, but even then, the area had been stripped. Yifan recognised some of the patches of barbed wire from Jongdae’s own personal fortress; it would make sense that he stole a few goodies from the demilitarised zone when it grew abandoned, especially if it would help to fight off the monsters that lurked. But now, there were Clickers nestled in the corners of the building, voices scratchy and crackling as they tried to lure their prey closer. But Jongdae only fumbled in his backpack for a second, pulling out a tin can of powder and nails hastily thrown inside. He struck a thread and threw it as far as he could, the noise drawing some of the Clickers over with a sudden roar of excitement.
The homemade bomb quickly detonated, spraying the monsters with nails and shrapnel that ripped them apart and forced them to be nothing but a screaming mess. Jongdae mouthed a small exclamation of relief as the Clickers all fell apart into a confused mess, and those few who remained stumbled around awkwardly on crippled legs as they cried out for help from fellow Runners and other Infected.
Their distractions allowed them to access the main part of the camp, slipping underneath the once-blue sign that had since been left to rot and rust. The English at the top spoke of security, of the places that were permitted to be stepped into. Yifan couldn’t help but shake his head as he passed by, eyes open for any Infected that should spring out.
Jongdae had similar feelings. He stuck two fingers up across the border out towards the North, spitting on the ground briefly. “I remember when it was just North Korea that was our main concern. Not this shit. At least with a group of Northerners, you can cripple them and they’ll stay down. These fuckers do what they can and will to get you, and those Bloaters are even worse.”
Zitao shuffled along on his belly as they crept through a series of cars. “Bloaters?”
“Big guys, some of the first Infected. They’re all pumped up with spores and air like a bouncy castle, and they’re covered in plates that deflect or absorb most of the shock from bullets and arrows. Nasty pieces of work, they are...vulnerable to fire but they’ll explode if you’re too close.”
“And how are we gonna get past them?”
“Another little trick. I’ll show you when we get inside for some weapons and parts.”
Their footsteps had to be silent, for this area was full of them, Clickers standing around absently and clucking between gnarled teeth to draw out their prey. It was horribly reminiscent, and Yifan had to close his eyes, unless he wanted to remember the horrid gash that was nestled on Baekhyun’s arm. He couldn’t let that happen again, because he feared that any more detachment, any further severing of the ties to humanity...that would be his end.
Thank goodness the bricks and bottles he threw were useful then, smashing with rock and glass across the pavement, sending the Clickers shambling away with a few excited cries. Jongdae wormed his way through the opening of a small hatch inside what was assumed to be the armoury, quickly guiding them inside and locking the door behind him.
For outside, they began to hear the first few inquisitive clicks of the Infected, drawn by the scent and sound of living flesh.
“Okay, grab what you can. I’ll get the parts for the truck, but I’ll need you to get as much firepower as you can.” Jongdae threw down two woven sacks and immediately began rooting through all of the cabinets he could find. Yifan mimicked him, and Zitao soon followed suit, as they began shoving ammunition into their pockets and snatching up the guns that went to them. It wasn’t until two wooden bows were shoved into their hands that they stopped, with Jongdae grinning at them. “Keep them close. They’ve served me well before, so they should help you too.”
A small gasp left Zitao as he slipped the bow over his torso, shoving the arrows into the side pocket of his backpack. “Will they work? Isn’t it a bit...a bit primitive?”
“Maybe it’s best we go back to our roots then. Quiet, retrievable ammo, light and easy to carry. You’re missing a golden opportunity, kiddo.” But he was soon beckoning them over, where he had gathered a few rags on the table, alongside a bottle of what looked to be petrol. “Standard Molotov, gets you through a Bloater fight like nothing else. Here, have a go.” He poured himself a nice dozen bottles of petrol, before nudging them out to share between the three, before they all quickly stuffed the necks with old rags.
“Just as well...look.” Yifan had finished his own Molotov-making, and had moved to sit beside the window as a scout. Just as well, as there came to be something lurking in the corner of his vision, a giant hulking mass that emitted low and loud clucks, occasionally punctuated by the sound of gurgling as it stepped over the bodies of its fallen kind. Even through the glass, the sound of a Bloater was instantly recognisable; it’s throaty growling was bone-chilling, and the plates it grew as armour gleamed with spores and water droplets. What was once its head shook slowly, swaying back and forth, while its stumpy feet dragged on the ground, drawing the Clickers and Runners around it like moths to a flame.
Zitao couldn’t have believed his eyes. He had never seen such a creature before, Infected or not. “How the Hell are you gonna get by that?” he hissed, though as he turned around, he found himself to be talking to thin air.
Because Jongdae was being an idiot, it seemed, and climbing up through the roof access to tower over the Infected like some kind of god. A very smelly god, but perhaps his ego boosted him and made him forget about that.
His Molotovs ended up striking their mark when he struck the rags, drenching the Bloater in petrol and causing it to burst into flames. The creature let out a horrendous roar of confusion and pain, and became to stagger around blindly as its fellow Clickers whipped around to find the source. But Jongdae was perched up high, and was rendered invisible to their locating clicks. The Runners saw him though, and started to scrabble at the glass and metal door in an effort to reach Yifan and Zitao inside. Despite the fact that they were ablaze, their hunger was no satiated; Jongdae was right about them refusing to be crippled.
“Out the back!” Yifan was the first to lunge for the backpacks they had gathered and sling them over, now armed with what appeared to be a silencer attached to his pistol. “Head back the way we came!” They were quickly joined by Jongdae, pack rattling with car parts and weapons, who sprinted off with a trail of hungered Infected lingering behind them. Zitao managed to pick off a few with his own pistol, stabbing the eyes of those who venturing too close for comfort, while Yifan began to blast away at their plates of fungus-formed armour.
They almost crashed into Jongdae’s back as he screamed. “Bloater!” The scorched figure came faltering around to meet them, fangs protruding as it salivated at the prospect of human flesh. Its giant paws came swinging outwards, like a duel set of clubs, narrowly missing the smaller man’s head as he shot off like an arrow to dart behind it. “Molotov! Go for the back of the neck!”
Zitao’s hands became full as Yifan thrust a match and a Molotov into his hands, while he strafed around the Bloater, aggravating it into attacking blindly and swinging its limbs. With trembling hands - lest he catch sight of the Bloater ripping his carer’s jaw apart - he struck the oily rag and launched it at the back of the beast’s head, where the plates were sparse and pallid skin could be seen beneath it.
Flames licked the Bloater’s swollen form, and it let out a shrill screech of agony, frantically trying to paw off the liquid it had been coated in, whilst also trying to smash Yifan into the wall and cry for help. A few Runners came flooding in with guttural screams, though Jongdae was on them with his machete to dispatch their limbs and heads. But one came for Zitao right then, held only by the throat as her broken, bloody teeth snapped inches away from the skin covering his jugular. His knife, it was too far to reach...
Yifan was on top of her though, clutching hold of Zitao’s flick-knife, having seen it drop to the ground in the rush to protect Zitao’s face from another bite. He stabbed the Runner in the eye as blood spurted all over the ground, screaming hysterically as he twisted the knife deeper, enough to pierce the skull and reach in to carve at the brain.
Before Zitao could even try to wheeze out a sign of thanks, Yifan had seized him by the wrist, dragging him back to where Jongdae was waiting with his hands holding onto a metal shutter. They didn’t have time to spend on sentiment just yet!
“Hurry up, we’re gonna make it!”
-----
“Once a grease monkey, always a grease monkey...isn’t that right, Jongdae?”
The younger man only smirked as he finished bolting the last few bits and bobs down beneath the bonnet of the car, finally stepping back and admiring his handiwork on the old 4x4 he had been ‘saving for a rainy day’. “Comes in handy for fixing up generators and machinery I need, I suppose. Old man Jung would never have forgiven me for forgetting, bless him.” He slapped the hood of the greying car, though it ended up with him having to wipe his hand of rust. “I don’t suppose you know where you’re going from now?”
“Up to Yixing’s place.” Yifan nudged Zitao to come forward, away from poking around in Jongdae’s personal things. “We know he’s friendly with the Fireflies, it might help to know where they’ve settled down now.”
“Well then it’s good you got a car. I’ve seen people drive by here all the time, but never came back. Last person was...oh, nearly eight months ago. Offered me food in exchange for passage, nice girl. I don’t think she’ll have made it past Sariwon though...”
“Hopefully we’ll have better luck.”
“Hopefully? You’d damn better have luck, I’m not jumping in there to save your skinny hides!”
“I guess this is goodbye then.” Jongdae didn’t really do much other than nod when Yifan extended his hand, before clasping it tightly between his gloves and shaking. He curled his lip, the start of a dry smile, before he took hold of the machete as Zitao clambered into the back seat. Yifan made his way to the front...though he couldn’t help but turn around once more. “Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?”
Jongdae laughed, though it sounded far too bitter to be humorous. No wonder; he knew that what they were doing was pretty much a suicide mission.
“You’re heading to the most populous country on Earth in a wrecked banger of a car. I think I’d prefer it here, my own little paradise. Now go on! Good luck to you and all, but now that we’re even...get the fuck out of my town.”
-----
“Y’know, I’m sorta sad that we left Jongdae. D’you think he’ll be okay?”
“He’ll be more than okay. It’s the Infected I’m worried about...”
Zitao snickered away in the back seat as he flicked through the remains of his haul from Jongdae’s mechanic den. And even though Yifan found it a bit rude - Jongdae had helped them after all! - he couldn’t find himself chastising the younger boy for what he had done. In fact, all he had managed to do was roll his eyes and raise a prayer that their paranoid friend wouldn’t have another car lying around spare ready to run over Zitao’s head as soon as he caught up with them.
Then again...he was rather curious about those magazines that Zitao had chosen to pick up. He remembered them fondly; old Marvel comics, even DC ones, some smaller comics made for younger kids and even the odd gaming magazine. It brought a lot of things back for him, of the days when he and his brother would lie out in the sunshine, playing with the pages as he sat Jongin between his knees and helped him to read.
He cursed himself for the tears that built up in the corners of his eyes.
“Um...thanks,” Zitao mumbled from behind the pages of what looked to be Superman. “for saving me from that Runner back there.” Yifan’s grip tightened a little around the steering wheel, and he watched as Zitao unfolded his legs. “I guess you do have a heart, after all.”
A soft laugh left him, though to the elder, it seemed only to be a huff of air exhaled from the nose. “You’re welcome. Thanks for getting that Bloater away from me.”
“Don’t sweat it.”
They talked a little more, now in the supposed calm that came with a vehicle. At least they wouldn’t be wasting breath that would have otherwise been needed to run to safety. Thank God the roads into North Korea were relatively clear, lest they end up being trapped in a pile-up that was crawling with Infected. But to be fair, as they were getting to know one another, Zitao did seem a little detached. Yifan could understand; maybe he was just tired, or wanted to get back to his magazines.
Even if one of them did look a little suspicious...
-----
It seemed that people fleeing close to the border had had similar ideas as those Yifan had. Because it wasn’t long before they found themselves trapped in the middle of a small dirt road, cars pressed nose to bumper in a long line of dismay. Their doors had been ripped off, some bodies still fastened in their seats from where Runners had obviously launched themselves at their vulnerable prey.
But there seemed to be something else. As they approached the heart of Sariwon, they saw that there was something rather unusual. Bodies scattered the ground, wasted away after many years of simple decay. But there were no bites, no torn throats and no sign of Infected. If anything could have established the deaths, it was the many discarded shells that Yifan ended up treading upon as he tried to step out and look for a clearer way up ahead.
“Makes sense. Mass killings would starve the Infected and stop the spread, right?” But even though Zitao was merely trying to reason, it was clear that he was certainly not in favour of the action. Because this was truly barbaric, by anyone’s standards. Sariwon had a paediatric hospital, Yifan knew that much; perhaps that explained why there were so many children propped up beside the buildings, lined like little dolls with dried blood settled in the fabric of their dresses and shorts. Some were with their mothers, tiny and frail in her arms, though the swaddling blankets were crisped and brown and flies buzzed around the bodies.
He didn’t think Zitao foolish as he ducked his head, driving along the path and beside the bodies to see if he could drive further along to get to some clearer road. Especially when his own stomach was churning.
Jongin, don’t look. Look at me.
“Please! Someone, help me!”
Out of the wreckage of cars and bodies of children, there came a shrill cry for help. Bare-footing and treading on shells, Yifan braced himself at the sight before him. Another survivor, a bandage drenched in red precariously looped over his head and covering an eye. Zitao’s fingers came to clench in the sides of his chair as he sucked in a breath, with Yifan’s foot tilted on the accelerate pedal.
“Whoa, whoa, wait!” he snapped, pointing forward to where the young boy was waving his arms frantically. He looked no older than thirteen, barely old enough to be a teenager. “He’s just a kid, why are you revving at him?”
“He’s not just a kid.” Yifan’s jaw forced him to grind as he kept moving forward, while the boy screamed for further help. “Look at him, Zitao. Fresh blood? When there’s been no sign of a fight?”
“Maybe he was hurt in the buildings?”
“He’s not hurt.”
“How d’you-“
But as Yifan slammed down hard on the gas, it was clear who was right all along. For the boy reached behind his fluttering shirt, and began to fire from two concealed guns kept on his belt. Yifan ducked down as the glass in the windscreen shattered and sprayed them both with shards of glass. But he didn’t stop, crashing hard into the boy and knocking him to the side as swarms of further survivors came to try and cripple the vehicle driving in their midst.
It wasn’t until a shot had been fired at the left front tyre that Yifan felt the car slide out of his control. He reached back and ordered Zitao to brace. “Get your gun ready!” he called as he tightened his grip on the wheel, braking hard as they went spinning after crashing into a post, finally coming to a rest in the open front of a small store.
Yifan was left groggy and heavy-headed as he came to, but quickly managed to work his seatbelt undone.
“Zitao? Are you okay?”
Sounds of screaming behind him echoed from outside the car, and he saw the seatbelt hanging flimsily to the side. He watched two pairs of legs and arms force down the younger boy, attempting to rip at his shirt and trousers as he writhed and fought in a halo of glass and shells. Yifan tried to fight to free his legs from the wreckage, harder and harder as Zitao’s shrieking echoed in his ears.
“Fuck off!” Zitao swung out a leg and dragged the other man holding him down beside him, fixing his sharp teeth into the man’s thumb and shaking his head like a dog after a kill. The bandit howled and struck him repeatedly, hoping to knock him out enough to free his finger. But as Zitao chewed down once more, he spat out the thumb, now ripped clean from the thief’s hand, and lunged once more with blood dripping from his face.
Yifan’s footsteps thumped against the tiles as he lunged for the second bandit, turning the gun on him and blasting the contents of his skull on the floor. His second strike moved to the bleeding bandit holding Zitao down, and he drove the rag-wearing man’s head into the counter until he felt the cranium crack under his hands.
“There! Get the bastards!” More shots rang out and pinged off the concrete and plaster walls as the pairing scrabbled out of the back of the buildings, sprinting away into the open and towards the older apartment blocks. “Get them! Go in after them!”
Zitao’s breath caught in his chest as he fought to keep calm. “They’re after us...they’ve seen us go in here, what are we gonna do?” He watched as Yifan began to shift furniture, already ransacked and broken, in front of the door to act as a series of barricades. “What’re you-“
“We move. We move quickly, we move often...we won’t die.” The elder ran his fingers through his grimy dark hair as he looked up the stairs, where lights danced off the windows further up, and the sound of birdsong and gunshots rang through. “Move up. We can get a better look there.”
Their footsteps had to be careful as they ran up the stairs, peering out of the square where the ground was covered in blood and where the bandits prowled. “Fuck! I can’t get the door open.” One of the younger men was stubbornly kicking the door, but never quite finding his way past the furniture Yifan had used to barricade the entrance.
“Well, find another way inside, Junhong! Use your fucking brain before I blow it the fuck out!” There came an almighty crack as the eldest - or at least, the leader - fired off what looked like a shotgun into the air, while the few that gathered around him flinched back. “Everyone, scatter! Jongup, call for Himchan and get the Destroyer out! We’ll flush those rats out, whether they like it or not!”
“Yes, Yongguk, right away!”
The clan of men and women scrambled away to break in through the windows and other doors, and soon, Yifan was feeling very vulnerable. But both his and Zitao’s eyes soon landed upon the cabinet pressed precariously against the wall. “Are you sure this’ll work?” he asked as the younger boy’s cat eyes flashed, and he rushed out to drag the mahogany cabinet.
“Have you got any other ideas?” His lips were carved in a grin as they both held onto the right hand side, shuffling it towards the stairs and preparing it so that it could slide. They paused for breath, frightening as it was, and waited for the sound of boots marching up the stairs.
“I see them!”
That was the signal to push, and Yifan and Zitao were soon shoving their shoulders into the cabinet, letting gravity take over and topple it down the stairs onto the rogues, who screamed out as the heavy furniture landed on top of them.
But that only drew more of them, as the cries of the bandits rang out with a shrill “they’re here!” and the drill of heavy gunfire. Yifan darted in and out of rooms, along corridors, through fire escapes, Zitao always in his sights, until everything he saw seemed to be a blur.
At last, the shots fell silent.
“We have to fight them.” Zitao panted, saliva clinging to his lips as white formed at the corners of his mouth. Yifan imagined he looked the same; he was so tired... “We can’t keep running, there’ll only be more after us.”
“I know. But if we can just find a room that can lead us closer to the road to Pyongyang, we can...”
But as they came to open the next door, there was the loud click of a pair of guns.
-----
“What d’you want?”
Two men were staring them down, eyes fixed on their faces and barrels equally doing so. One of the men stepped forward to protect the other, his hunting rifle just tapping underneath Yifan’s chin, while the second and taller man took his shaking gun and focused it on Zitao’s face. These two didn’t look like the bandits; if anything, one looked afraid and the other one looked full to burst with rage.
The smaller man snapped as there was no answer provided for his question. “What d’you want? You aren’t Yongguk’s men. We don’t want any trouble, so you’d better leave us alone.”
“And neither do we. Drop your gun.” Yifan motioned for the younger in his care to copy his action as he rested his guns and bow on the ground, raising his hands in a non-threatening gesture. “It’s okay, we just need to find somewhere to hide. The bandits jumped us as we were moving on through and-“
“-now they’re after you?” The taller man nodded, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips as he brushed back a long dark fringe. “Same here. You haven’t...led them to us, have you?”
“No, God, no. We shook them off briefly, but we need somewhere to hide and to rest before we move further north.”
“You can’t get north.” The smaller man snapped his teeth and jutted his rifle further into Yifan’s skin. “Their patrols operate on the only route out of here and up to Pyongyang. You’ll never make it out.”
Zitao snorted. “What makes you so sure?”
“We’ve tried. Every time we do, we have to go back and hide because they’re crawling all over the exit. They’ve got that Destroyer out there in the street too. Big tank thing they modified from an army truck and weapons, took it from the base after it was left abandoned.”
“They never leave it?”
“Never. The guy they call Himchan is the driver, and the only time he leaves it is to check on the border opening leading out of here...” Perhaps it was good they were united by a common goal and a common enemy: the exit from this bandit’s nest, and the bandits themselves. That was enough to have the smaller man set down his gun, unnarrow his sharp eyes, and nod softly. “I’m Minseok. This is Luhan with me.” The taller boy nodded and smiled, though it was still a little wobbly. “And you two?”
“Yifan and Zitao. We’re headed over the border to meet a friend of ours.”
“Then he’s a lucky bastard. Making it past here is a challenge, even for the Infected.” Minseok grimaced, peering out the window of the room he and Luhan had found themselves cooped up in. The bandits were spreading outwards after the rush Yifan and Zitao had given them, but they were starting to go about it systematically. Yongguk, the leader, was hollering until it seemed as though his vocal chords would tear, while the growl of series of trucks echoed around them. “Even now, they’ve stripped everything. You get in here by truck? They’ll strip that too, take whatever you left behind.”
“We can make it out.” Zitao growled back, though as he heard the sounds of engines purring, followed by the roar of a much larger vehicle, he shrank down a little. “There’s got to be an opening.”
“Where?” Luhan piped up for the first time since introducing himself, though it sounded rather hesitant. Perhaps that was the reason why Minseok was so insistent that he stand between the two parties, as a shield to his friend. “We can take you along but damn...the place is covered in bandits and Minseok can’t do long distance shots too good.”
The string of the bow around Zitao’s chest almost quivered, and he cast Yifan a gleaming smile. The elder noticed. “Then we might be able to help you out with some of your problems.”
-----
Minseok and Luhan offered their small services to Yifan and Zitao, as they waited for the night to settle over the landscape, and for the bandits to eventually give up their search. In that time, they shared what food they had, what knowledge they had, whatever little things they could share.
Minseok had been working in Paju on the day of the outbreak, as a delivery boy for the UN soldiers stationed at Camp Bonifas. He said the Infected were a little delayed because of the amount of landmines and guns that were strewn across the ground, but that they ultimately won out when the soldiers began to fall into their clutches. He ended up fleeing northward with Luhan in tow, finding refuge in Kaesong, before deciding to head northwards after hiding for nearly half a decade in the City of Pines. It had been medicine that drove them there mainly, as well as other like-minded survivors. Unfortunately, they had not encountered any on their travels; Minseok feared them dead.
Luhan, however, was not local to the area; his name was a hint, but the fact he was a tourist and only a half-resident made it clear. He had often come to Paju, due to the fact that his father had US citizenship and was sometimes stationed at the DMZ. His mother didn’t appreciate letting her little boy lay on “the most dangerous golf course in the world”, but Luhan fondly remembered hitting a ball and watching as a landmine was detonated, labelling it as the coolest thing ever when the other soldiers began to cheer in delight, even though he remembered a foreign soldier across the line “getting pretty pissed”. He met Minseok through his visits, and became quite good friends after seeing him deliver so often. Even now, it was clear they stood together like glue.
Yifan and Zitao offered their food and water, while the other survivors pushed forward the cans and bottles they had managed to salvage. “Not much, really.” Luhan sighed quietly, fingers straying on a can of tinned apricots. “We’ve been running low, but every time we go back to Paju, some crazy smelly guy waves his gun around and tells us to turn back the way we came.”
Ah Jongdae, you never fail to meet your expectations. “Yeah, he’s...not the friendliest type.” Yifan agreed, though his mind was elsewhere; he couldn’t stop looking out the window, waiting for the sun to slip over the horizon so they could finally move. “When d’you think we can go?”
“Yongguk likes to signal the night shift with a blast of his bloody shotgun.” Minseok replied, picking his teeth with his little finger. “That thing makes me jump every time, even though we’ve been cooped in this bastard city for nearly a week. I just hope that the others have reached Pyongyang by this time.” Luhan leaned into him and ran his fingers down his back, a comforting gesture.
Just as he stood up ready to pack away his cans of food, there was an almighty crack that filled the air, echoing in their ears and making Yifan’s stomach quiver. Looking to Minseok for confirmation - granted by the nod of his head - Yifan swallowed the bolus of saliva building up in his throat as he darted for the stairs, Zitao hot on his heels.
“You two know the way better than we do.” he called to Minseok and Luhan, who were a lot more cautious in their steps as they glanced out of every window they passed by. They were looking for the bandits, that much was certain. “You take the lead, we’ll cover you.”
They were sprightly at least; maybe that’s how they survived for so long here, avoiding the thieves by sheer speed. The pair were flanked by Yifan and Zitao, dashing between shops and apartments and scampering through the gaps in the buildings via carefully placed planks of wood that would have otherwise made him dizzy beyond compare.
When they arrived at the final opening, Yifan understood their hesitation. For cars had been piled up high in a barricade, hulking metal bodies only leaving enough room for one escape, which was blocked by what Minseok dubbed “the Destroyer”. He could see it armed to the teeth then, but what would it look like in battle. Two men sat on the bonnet with rifles in their hands, while a third was stationed at the back with the turret.
“Told you.” Minseok sighed, wiping the sweat from his forehead. “We’re not gonna be able to get by until-“
“-until something draws out the machine and sends it elsewhere.” Zitao finished off, while Luhan sat down beside what looked to be a baby’s cot. They poured out the contents of their bags, with Zitao grabbing hold of a bottle and Luhan ripping a little cloth from the crib’s blankets. “Yifan, d’you still have some petrol?”
“I have a little...” Luhan tossed over the small flask he had in his bag, watching as Zitao poured himself a couple of bottle’s full. But his eyes were fixed on the cot still, on the toys that lay scattered around in the bed. “I wonder if Mom and Luli made it out-“
But as his fingers strayed over the plush doll of a small deer, Minseok was quick to grab his hand. “Leave that alone. We’ve got to keep moving light.”
“But I-“
“Luhan, please...pay attention, okay?”
Zitao kept his head down as he stuffed the blanket rags into the necks of the Molotovs, while Yifan shuffled over to meet him. “Where should we aim? We need to draw the tank away from the entrance, but not far enough so it won’t notice...there!”
He pointed to a crook in the wall where the bandits were resting for the night, though there were still a few stalking around to survey the area. “Are you sure?” he asked quietly, watching as Yifan struck his lighter and ignited the edge of the rag. “Will we reach them?”
“We don’t have to. We just need their attention!”
Yifan’s arm swing launched the bottle out of the blast-hole in the wall, sending the flaming bottle spiralling down into the street, sending shards of glass and burning fuel all over the ground. Some caught onto the sleeping bandits, while the others merely licked the skeletons of the cars pile and plucked in the street.
“What’s going on? Where the fuck-“ Yongguk’s bellowing voice sounded from further down the road, and it wasn’t long before his sharp eyes tracked another Molotov descending from the sky, crashing to the ground and scattering flames near his feet. “There. Get them!”
The roar of the Destroyer sent shivers down their spines, but at least the plan was working. The great engine howled like a demon as the body was carried along on thick tyres, while Himchan slipped into the driver’s seat and a second man jumped onto the turret.
“Get the floodlights on! Bring it down!”
The bullets stripped plaster from the walls as Yifan and Zitao raced along the corridors, with Minseok pelting further Molotovs and Luhan returning fire. The cries of the bandits grew louder as they poured out of their nest and swarmed the buildings, running up and down the stairs in the hopes of running into the strangers in their midst.
Yifan was quick to dispatch them though, dragging them down when their backs were turned and swiftly snapping their necks in his hold. Minseok copied the action, the muscles in his bulging arms now made useful as the bones of a young thief in his grasp gave out with a loud crunch.
“Light them up, boys!” Yongguk yowled to the sky as more bandits began to join him, until there were at least two dozen in the building, swarming all over to try and find the survivors. “Bring me their heads!”
As they reached the bottom floor, there was space to duck without cover; the cars that the thieves thought to be traps were now their ticket to escape. Minseok led the way, with Yifan covering the back, holding tightly to Zitao’s hands.
“We need to make a break for it.” Minseok’s breath was ragged, but he had determination lighting up his eyes. “Luhan, stay close to me, okay?” The doe-eyed man nodded softly, though he began to tremble in fear as the Destroyer’s engine purred softly. They were getting closer.
But so was someone else. Junhong, the name faint on his tongue, soon turned the corner as his face split with a wide grin. He raised his rifle, teeth bared as he turned his neck to summon assistance. “Yongguk! I found-“
Zitao lunged forward faster than Yifan could hold him back, burrowing the blade of his flick-knife into the crook of the young boy’s neck. Blood sprayed his face as the artery in his throat was severed, spurting his lifeblood everywhere, while Junhong fell to his knees. His head lolled, lips spilling with red, as he tried once more to summon help.
At least he had that granted. For the outline of the leader, muscular arms and spiked hair, turned to face where the group had tried to make a break for the exit. “Himchan, after them!” he boomed, to which the Destroyer’s engine roared mightily and began to turn back for the now-exposed exit to Sariwon.
But Luhan had an idea. He snatched for Zitao’s pack - whose owner only gave out a loud yelp - while Minseok’s eyes widened in confusion. “What are you doing?! We need to go!”
“Wait a moment!” Luhan’s fingers fumbled as he held onto the lighter in his hand, rolling one of the small tin cans he had found in Zitao’s backpack outwards, while sticking another two into the sides of the barricade. But as Yifan watched, he saw that they sparked slowly, lit fuses glowing in the wreckage of the cars. Luhan beamed and began to sprint after them. “Get back!”
The explosions made Zitao’s ears ring, and he almost forgave himself for kneeling down as he covered his ears. Metal screeched behind him as the cars rolled down from the barricade, no longer held steady in the way that Yongguk’s group had organised them. The Destroyer, in what small glimpses could now be seen, had a cloud of black smoke rising from beneath its bonnet, and the engine puttered and wheezed as furious voices rang out from behind the collapsed wall.
They could do nothing though, and the group could only continue to run onward, up the road towards Jeongbangni Station. “It’ll at least get us a break from them.” Luhan panted, staring upwards as the sound of something grunting and growling lurked ahead. “We need to keep going, or-“
“Infected coming!”
Zitao pointed over where the first few malformed shapes started to appear over the horizon. They had probably kept away from Yongguk’s den in self-preservation, but now that there had been such chaos and survivors outside the perimeter, Yifan didn’t find himself surprised when he considered it to be like ringing the dinner bell.
“Run!”
Full-pelt, they ended up sprinting for the station at an immense speed, while Yifan stood at the back of the group, picking off the Infected that chased them with Minseok’s hunting rifle. “Hurry up, they’re coming!” His eyes were sharper, but as a result, he ended up going slower.
Until Luhan shoved him aside and took the rifle. ”Catch up!” he yelled over the howls of the Runners, picking them off with shots to the head and chest. Yifan watched as Zitao managed to sprint for the stairs of the station, taking a vantage point at what had been converted into a watchtower by the previous occupants.
“Clickers coming!” Luhan’s voice was getting and higher with worry, as the twisted faces of the hyper-sensitive Infected loomed and their screeching calls echoed over the hills.
Soon there were only a few, and Luhan could make a break for the station with only three on his tail. Yifan picked off the last Clicker, sending its plates splattered on the ground, leaving only two Runners. “Get inside!”
But only inches from the doors to the station, Luhan found himself trapped beneath scrabbling hands and sharp teeth. He screamed out for help, for somebody to save him as the Runner dragged him back by the leg and pinned him down to the ground in a rabid frenzy.
“You’re not taking him!” Minseok rushed out and kicked the creature backwards with shocked yelp, before he stomped up and down on the lone Runner’s head, until its brains lay mashed up on the ground and its twitching fingers stopped moving. “Leave!” Stomp. “Him!” Stomp. “Alone!” Squelch. When the creature no longer had a grip, Luhan curled up into Minseok’s arms, shaking like a leaf. “Are you alright? He didn’t bite you, did he?”
“No, I’m okay. I kept kicking, he couldn’t get a grip on me.”
Yifan looked up to the small home that had been crouched behind the station, before his back eventually found a resting spot against the wall; it would be safer there, judging by the reinforced style of the building. His muscles began to scream in agony, and he couldn’t help but grit his teeth as he rested his limbs. Thank goodness it was quiet.
“We need to rest for the night. Let’s head on for that house and barricade ourselves there, and we’ll be okay for now.”
-----
PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 6
Prompt: #139 - The Last of Us
Pairings: Tao/Kris, brief!Tao/Sehun, Xiumin/Luhan, other friendships/brotherly relationships (Tao/Kyungsoo, Kris/Kai, Kris/Chen, Kris/Baekhyun)
Summary: The world has decayed and taken everything Yifan loved with it. He has grown cold to the idea of becoming attached, when all that stands between you and a lover is a Clicker’s teeth. But as he is tasked with another smuggling mission, crossing into dangerous territory, both Infected and Human can’t part him from his prize.
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Gore, blood, lots of swearing, sexual content, attempted assault, violence, guns/bombs, and character death (includes mercy killing, child death, mentions of mass killings, and suicide)
Word count: 45,048
The trek was a little hazardous, considering that the town was not only littered with Infected, but also strung up to the nines with Jongdae’s homemade defence system. He clicked his tongue as those nimble fingers of his threaded thin filament through what looked like a tin can. He poured powder in through the slots, and threw in a handful of nails.
“Little invention of mine.” He snickered like a child as his thread was wrapped around the base of a post of a street sign, before marking its position on his ‘town map’ with a big red cross. “Conspiracy theorists might have gotten a hell of a lot of flak, but who are the ones living longest? God bless Max Brooks.”
Yifan thought about it for a bit, but decided against saying anything...whilst also shooting daggers at Zitao to prevent him from saying anything as well.
In the pause for silence, however, Jongdae clearly rambled. “Of course, Brooks didn’t depict a creature born from a damn mushroom. Bloody hell, it would’ve been nice to know that it was just Solanum...bites would be all we worried about, not fucking spores and airborne transmission...my planning would have been so much more effective than this, knowing that the fuckers ran!”
“Riveting, I’m certain...but we really do need to go and get those car parts.”
“And what, d’you expect me to be silent all the way there, listening to Pretty Boy with you? I had enough of the tween sensation back when the world was safe, I don’t want any more, thank you kindly.”
Zitao couldn’t save himself a snort. “Assfuck.”
“What was that, Pretty Boy? Because it sounded an awful lot like ‘emasculate me, Jongdae, I’m begging for your machete over my dick’.”
“...I didn’t say anything.”
“That’s what I thought. Now look.”
Camp Bonifas had gone downhill a lot in the two years that Yifan had been away from it. The signs had long decayed and fallen down, but even then, the area had been stripped. Yifan recognised some of the patches of barbed wire from Jongdae’s own personal fortress; it would make sense that he stole a few goodies from the demilitarised zone when it grew abandoned, especially if it would help to fight off the monsters that lurked. But now, there were Clickers nestled in the corners of the building, voices scratchy and crackling as they tried to lure their prey closer. But Jongdae only fumbled in his backpack for a second, pulling out a tin can of powder and nails hastily thrown inside. He struck a thread and threw it as far as he could, the noise drawing some of the Clickers over with a sudden roar of excitement.
The homemade bomb quickly detonated, spraying the monsters with nails and shrapnel that ripped them apart and forced them to be nothing but a screaming mess. Jongdae mouthed a small exclamation of relief as the Clickers all fell apart into a confused mess, and those few who remained stumbled around awkwardly on crippled legs as they cried out for help from fellow Runners and other Infected.
Their distractions allowed them to access the main part of the camp, slipping underneath the once-blue sign that had since been left to rot and rust. The English at the top spoke of security, of the places that were permitted to be stepped into. Yifan couldn’t help but shake his head as he passed by, eyes open for any Infected that should spring out.
Jongdae had similar feelings. He stuck two fingers up across the border out towards the North, spitting on the ground briefly. “I remember when it was just North Korea that was our main concern. Not this shit. At least with a group of Northerners, you can cripple them and they’ll stay down. These fuckers do what they can and will to get you, and those Bloaters are even worse.”
Zitao shuffled along on his belly as they crept through a series of cars. “Bloaters?”
“Big guys, some of the first Infected. They’re all pumped up with spores and air like a bouncy castle, and they’re covered in plates that deflect or absorb most of the shock from bullets and arrows. Nasty pieces of work, they are...vulnerable to fire but they’ll explode if you’re too close.”
“And how are we gonna get past them?”
“Another little trick. I’ll show you when we get inside for some weapons and parts.”
Their footsteps had to be silent, for this area was full of them, Clickers standing around absently and clucking between gnarled teeth to draw out their prey. It was horribly reminiscent, and Yifan had to close his eyes, unless he wanted to remember the horrid gash that was nestled on Baekhyun’s arm. He couldn’t let that happen again, because he feared that any more detachment, any further severing of the ties to humanity...that would be his end.
Thank goodness the bricks and bottles he threw were useful then, smashing with rock and glass across the pavement, sending the Clickers shambling away with a few excited cries. Jongdae wormed his way through the opening of a small hatch inside what was assumed to be the armoury, quickly guiding them inside and locking the door behind him.
For outside, they began to hear the first few inquisitive clicks of the Infected, drawn by the scent and sound of living flesh.
“Okay, grab what you can. I’ll get the parts for the truck, but I’ll need you to get as much firepower as you can.” Jongdae threw down two woven sacks and immediately began rooting through all of the cabinets he could find. Yifan mimicked him, and Zitao soon followed suit, as they began shoving ammunition into their pockets and snatching up the guns that went to them. It wasn’t until two wooden bows were shoved into their hands that they stopped, with Jongdae grinning at them. “Keep them close. They’ve served me well before, so they should help you too.”
A small gasp left Zitao as he slipped the bow over his torso, shoving the arrows into the side pocket of his backpack. “Will they work? Isn’t it a bit...a bit primitive?”
“Maybe it’s best we go back to our roots then. Quiet, retrievable ammo, light and easy to carry. You’re missing a golden opportunity, kiddo.” But he was soon beckoning them over, where he had gathered a few rags on the table, alongside a bottle of what looked to be petrol. “Standard Molotov, gets you through a Bloater fight like nothing else. Here, have a go.” He poured himself a nice dozen bottles of petrol, before nudging them out to share between the three, before they all quickly stuffed the necks with old rags.
“Just as well...look.” Yifan had finished his own Molotov-making, and had moved to sit beside the window as a scout. Just as well, as there came to be something lurking in the corner of his vision, a giant hulking mass that emitted low and loud clucks, occasionally punctuated by the sound of gurgling as it stepped over the bodies of its fallen kind. Even through the glass, the sound of a Bloater was instantly recognisable; it’s throaty growling was bone-chilling, and the plates it grew as armour gleamed with spores and water droplets. What was once its head shook slowly, swaying back and forth, while its stumpy feet dragged on the ground, drawing the Clickers and Runners around it like moths to a flame.
Zitao couldn’t have believed his eyes. He had never seen such a creature before, Infected or not. “How the Hell are you gonna get by that?” he hissed, though as he turned around, he found himself to be talking to thin air.
Because Jongdae was being an idiot, it seemed, and climbing up through the roof access to tower over the Infected like some kind of god. A very smelly god, but perhaps his ego boosted him and made him forget about that.
His Molotovs ended up striking their mark when he struck the rags, drenching the Bloater in petrol and causing it to burst into flames. The creature let out a horrendous roar of confusion and pain, and became to stagger around blindly as its fellow Clickers whipped around to find the source. But Jongdae was perched up high, and was rendered invisible to their locating clicks. The Runners saw him though, and started to scrabble at the glass and metal door in an effort to reach Yifan and Zitao inside. Despite the fact that they were ablaze, their hunger was no satiated; Jongdae was right about them refusing to be crippled.
“Out the back!” Yifan was the first to lunge for the backpacks they had gathered and sling them over, now armed with what appeared to be a silencer attached to his pistol. “Head back the way we came!” They were quickly joined by Jongdae, pack rattling with car parts and weapons, who sprinted off with a trail of hungered Infected lingering behind them. Zitao managed to pick off a few with his own pistol, stabbing the eyes of those who venturing too close for comfort, while Yifan began to blast away at their plates of fungus-formed armour.
They almost crashed into Jongdae’s back as he screamed. “Bloater!” The scorched figure came faltering around to meet them, fangs protruding as it salivated at the prospect of human flesh. Its giant paws came swinging outwards, like a duel set of clubs, narrowly missing the smaller man’s head as he shot off like an arrow to dart behind it. “Molotov! Go for the back of the neck!”
Zitao’s hands became full as Yifan thrust a match and a Molotov into his hands, while he strafed around the Bloater, aggravating it into attacking blindly and swinging its limbs. With trembling hands - lest he catch sight of the Bloater ripping his carer’s jaw apart - he struck the oily rag and launched it at the back of the beast’s head, where the plates were sparse and pallid skin could be seen beneath it.
Flames licked the Bloater’s swollen form, and it let out a shrill screech of agony, frantically trying to paw off the liquid it had been coated in, whilst also trying to smash Yifan into the wall and cry for help. A few Runners came flooding in with guttural screams, though Jongdae was on them with his machete to dispatch their limbs and heads. But one came for Zitao right then, held only by the throat as her broken, bloody teeth snapped inches away from the skin covering his jugular. His knife, it was too far to reach...
Yifan was on top of her though, clutching hold of Zitao’s flick-knife, having seen it drop to the ground in the rush to protect Zitao’s face from another bite. He stabbed the Runner in the eye as blood spurted all over the ground, screaming hysterically as he twisted the knife deeper, enough to pierce the skull and reach in to carve at the brain.
Before Zitao could even try to wheeze out a sign of thanks, Yifan had seized him by the wrist, dragging him back to where Jongdae was waiting with his hands holding onto a metal shutter. They didn’t have time to spend on sentiment just yet!
“Hurry up, we’re gonna make it!”
-----
“Once a grease monkey, always a grease monkey...isn’t that right, Jongdae?”
The younger man only smirked as he finished bolting the last few bits and bobs down beneath the bonnet of the car, finally stepping back and admiring his handiwork on the old 4x4 he had been ‘saving for a rainy day’. “Comes in handy for fixing up generators and machinery I need, I suppose. Old man Jung would never have forgiven me for forgetting, bless him.” He slapped the hood of the greying car, though it ended up with him having to wipe his hand of rust. “I don’t suppose you know where you’re going from now?”
“Up to Yixing’s place.” Yifan nudged Zitao to come forward, away from poking around in Jongdae’s personal things. “We know he’s friendly with the Fireflies, it might help to know where they’ve settled down now.”
“Well then it’s good you got a car. I’ve seen people drive by here all the time, but never came back. Last person was...oh, nearly eight months ago. Offered me food in exchange for passage, nice girl. I don’t think she’ll have made it past Sariwon though...”
“Hopefully we’ll have better luck.”
“Hopefully? You’d damn better have luck, I’m not jumping in there to save your skinny hides!”
“I guess this is goodbye then.” Jongdae didn’t really do much other than nod when Yifan extended his hand, before clasping it tightly between his gloves and shaking. He curled his lip, the start of a dry smile, before he took hold of the machete as Zitao clambered into the back seat. Yifan made his way to the front...though he couldn’t help but turn around once more. “Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?”
Jongdae laughed, though it sounded far too bitter to be humorous. No wonder; he knew that what they were doing was pretty much a suicide mission.
“You’re heading to the most populous country on Earth in a wrecked banger of a car. I think I’d prefer it here, my own little paradise. Now go on! Good luck to you and all, but now that we’re even...get the fuck out of my town.”
-----
“Y’know, I’m sorta sad that we left Jongdae. D’you think he’ll be okay?”
“He’ll be more than okay. It’s the Infected I’m worried about...”
Zitao snickered away in the back seat as he flicked through the remains of his haul from Jongdae’s mechanic den. And even though Yifan found it a bit rude - Jongdae had helped them after all! - he couldn’t find himself chastising the younger boy for what he had done. In fact, all he had managed to do was roll his eyes and raise a prayer that their paranoid friend wouldn’t have another car lying around spare ready to run over Zitao’s head as soon as he caught up with them.
Then again...he was rather curious about those magazines that Zitao had chosen to pick up. He remembered them fondly; old Marvel comics, even DC ones, some smaller comics made for younger kids and even the odd gaming magazine. It brought a lot of things back for him, of the days when he and his brother would lie out in the sunshine, playing with the pages as he sat Jongin between his knees and helped him to read.
He cursed himself for the tears that built up in the corners of his eyes.
“Um...thanks,” Zitao mumbled from behind the pages of what looked to be Superman. “for saving me from that Runner back there.” Yifan’s grip tightened a little around the steering wheel, and he watched as Zitao unfolded his legs. “I guess you do have a heart, after all.”
A soft laugh left him, though to the elder, it seemed only to be a huff of air exhaled from the nose. “You’re welcome. Thanks for getting that Bloater away from me.”
“Don’t sweat it.”
They talked a little more, now in the supposed calm that came with a vehicle. At least they wouldn’t be wasting breath that would have otherwise been needed to run to safety. Thank God the roads into North Korea were relatively clear, lest they end up being trapped in a pile-up that was crawling with Infected. But to be fair, as they were getting to know one another, Zitao did seem a little detached. Yifan could understand; maybe he was just tired, or wanted to get back to his magazines.
Even if one of them did look a little suspicious...
-----
It seemed that people fleeing close to the border had had similar ideas as those Yifan had. Because it wasn’t long before they found themselves trapped in the middle of a small dirt road, cars pressed nose to bumper in a long line of dismay. Their doors had been ripped off, some bodies still fastened in their seats from where Runners had obviously launched themselves at their vulnerable prey.
But there seemed to be something else. As they approached the heart of Sariwon, they saw that there was something rather unusual. Bodies scattered the ground, wasted away after many years of simple decay. But there were no bites, no torn throats and no sign of Infected. If anything could have established the deaths, it was the many discarded shells that Yifan ended up treading upon as he tried to step out and look for a clearer way up ahead.
“Makes sense. Mass killings would starve the Infected and stop the spread, right?” But even though Zitao was merely trying to reason, it was clear that he was certainly not in favour of the action. Because this was truly barbaric, by anyone’s standards. Sariwon had a paediatric hospital, Yifan knew that much; perhaps that explained why there were so many children propped up beside the buildings, lined like little dolls with dried blood settled in the fabric of their dresses and shorts. Some were with their mothers, tiny and frail in her arms, though the swaddling blankets were crisped and brown and flies buzzed around the bodies.
He didn’t think Zitao foolish as he ducked his head, driving along the path and beside the bodies to see if he could drive further along to get to some clearer road. Especially when his own stomach was churning.
Jongin, don’t look. Look at me.
“Please! Someone, help me!”
Out of the wreckage of cars and bodies of children, there came a shrill cry for help. Bare-footing and treading on shells, Yifan braced himself at the sight before him. Another survivor, a bandage drenched in red precariously looped over his head and covering an eye. Zitao’s fingers came to clench in the sides of his chair as he sucked in a breath, with Yifan’s foot tilted on the accelerate pedal.
“Whoa, whoa, wait!” he snapped, pointing forward to where the young boy was waving his arms frantically. He looked no older than thirteen, barely old enough to be a teenager. “He’s just a kid, why are you revving at him?”
“He’s not just a kid.” Yifan’s jaw forced him to grind as he kept moving forward, while the boy screamed for further help. “Look at him, Zitao. Fresh blood? When there’s been no sign of a fight?”
“Maybe he was hurt in the buildings?”
“He’s not hurt.”
“How d’you-“
But as Yifan slammed down hard on the gas, it was clear who was right all along. For the boy reached behind his fluttering shirt, and began to fire from two concealed guns kept on his belt. Yifan ducked down as the glass in the windscreen shattered and sprayed them both with shards of glass. But he didn’t stop, crashing hard into the boy and knocking him to the side as swarms of further survivors came to try and cripple the vehicle driving in their midst.
It wasn’t until a shot had been fired at the left front tyre that Yifan felt the car slide out of his control. He reached back and ordered Zitao to brace. “Get your gun ready!” he called as he tightened his grip on the wheel, braking hard as they went spinning after crashing into a post, finally coming to a rest in the open front of a small store.
Yifan was left groggy and heavy-headed as he came to, but quickly managed to work his seatbelt undone.
“Zitao? Are you okay?”
Sounds of screaming behind him echoed from outside the car, and he saw the seatbelt hanging flimsily to the side. He watched two pairs of legs and arms force down the younger boy, attempting to rip at his shirt and trousers as he writhed and fought in a halo of glass and shells. Yifan tried to fight to free his legs from the wreckage, harder and harder as Zitao’s shrieking echoed in his ears.
“Fuck off!” Zitao swung out a leg and dragged the other man holding him down beside him, fixing his sharp teeth into the man’s thumb and shaking his head like a dog after a kill. The bandit howled and struck him repeatedly, hoping to knock him out enough to free his finger. But as Zitao chewed down once more, he spat out the thumb, now ripped clean from the thief’s hand, and lunged once more with blood dripping from his face.
Yifan’s footsteps thumped against the tiles as he lunged for the second bandit, turning the gun on him and blasting the contents of his skull on the floor. His second strike moved to the bleeding bandit holding Zitao down, and he drove the rag-wearing man’s head into the counter until he felt the cranium crack under his hands.
“There! Get the bastards!” More shots rang out and pinged off the concrete and plaster walls as the pairing scrabbled out of the back of the buildings, sprinting away into the open and towards the older apartment blocks. “Get them! Go in after them!”
Zitao’s breath caught in his chest as he fought to keep calm. “They’re after us...they’ve seen us go in here, what are we gonna do?” He watched as Yifan began to shift furniture, already ransacked and broken, in front of the door to act as a series of barricades. “What’re you-“
“We move. We move quickly, we move often...we won’t die.” The elder ran his fingers through his grimy dark hair as he looked up the stairs, where lights danced off the windows further up, and the sound of birdsong and gunshots rang through. “Move up. We can get a better look there.”
Their footsteps had to be careful as they ran up the stairs, peering out of the square where the ground was covered in blood and where the bandits prowled. “Fuck! I can’t get the door open.” One of the younger men was stubbornly kicking the door, but never quite finding his way past the furniture Yifan had used to barricade the entrance.
“Well, find another way inside, Junhong! Use your fucking brain before I blow it the fuck out!” There came an almighty crack as the eldest - or at least, the leader - fired off what looked like a shotgun into the air, while the few that gathered around him flinched back. “Everyone, scatter! Jongup, call for Himchan and get the Destroyer out! We’ll flush those rats out, whether they like it or not!”
“Yes, Yongguk, right away!”
The clan of men and women scrambled away to break in through the windows and other doors, and soon, Yifan was feeling very vulnerable. But both his and Zitao’s eyes soon landed upon the cabinet pressed precariously against the wall. “Are you sure this’ll work?” he asked as the younger boy’s cat eyes flashed, and he rushed out to drag the mahogany cabinet.
“Have you got any other ideas?” His lips were carved in a grin as they both held onto the right hand side, shuffling it towards the stairs and preparing it so that it could slide. They paused for breath, frightening as it was, and waited for the sound of boots marching up the stairs.
“I see them!”
That was the signal to push, and Yifan and Zitao were soon shoving their shoulders into the cabinet, letting gravity take over and topple it down the stairs onto the rogues, who screamed out as the heavy furniture landed on top of them.
But that only drew more of them, as the cries of the bandits rang out with a shrill “they’re here!” and the drill of heavy gunfire. Yifan darted in and out of rooms, along corridors, through fire escapes, Zitao always in his sights, until everything he saw seemed to be a blur.
At last, the shots fell silent.
“We have to fight them.” Zitao panted, saliva clinging to his lips as white formed at the corners of his mouth. Yifan imagined he looked the same; he was so tired... “We can’t keep running, there’ll only be more after us.”
“I know. But if we can just find a room that can lead us closer to the road to Pyongyang, we can...”
But as they came to open the next door, there was the loud click of a pair of guns.
-----
“What d’you want?”
Two men were staring them down, eyes fixed on their faces and barrels equally doing so. One of the men stepped forward to protect the other, his hunting rifle just tapping underneath Yifan’s chin, while the second and taller man took his shaking gun and focused it on Zitao’s face. These two didn’t look like the bandits; if anything, one looked afraid and the other one looked full to burst with rage.
The smaller man snapped as there was no answer provided for his question. “What d’you want? You aren’t Yongguk’s men. We don’t want any trouble, so you’d better leave us alone.”
“And neither do we. Drop your gun.” Yifan motioned for the younger in his care to copy his action as he rested his guns and bow on the ground, raising his hands in a non-threatening gesture. “It’s okay, we just need to find somewhere to hide. The bandits jumped us as we were moving on through and-“
“-now they’re after you?” The taller man nodded, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips as he brushed back a long dark fringe. “Same here. You haven’t...led them to us, have you?”
“No, God, no. We shook them off briefly, but we need somewhere to hide and to rest before we move further north.”
“You can’t get north.” The smaller man snapped his teeth and jutted his rifle further into Yifan’s skin. “Their patrols operate on the only route out of here and up to Pyongyang. You’ll never make it out.”
Zitao snorted. “What makes you so sure?”
“We’ve tried. Every time we do, we have to go back and hide because they’re crawling all over the exit. They’ve got that Destroyer out there in the street too. Big tank thing they modified from an army truck and weapons, took it from the base after it was left abandoned.”
“They never leave it?”
“Never. The guy they call Himchan is the driver, and the only time he leaves it is to check on the border opening leading out of here...” Perhaps it was good they were united by a common goal and a common enemy: the exit from this bandit’s nest, and the bandits themselves. That was enough to have the smaller man set down his gun, unnarrow his sharp eyes, and nod softly. “I’m Minseok. This is Luhan with me.” The taller boy nodded and smiled, though it was still a little wobbly. “And you two?”
“Yifan and Zitao. We’re headed over the border to meet a friend of ours.”
“Then he’s a lucky bastard. Making it past here is a challenge, even for the Infected.” Minseok grimaced, peering out the window of the room he and Luhan had found themselves cooped up in. The bandits were spreading outwards after the rush Yifan and Zitao had given them, but they were starting to go about it systematically. Yongguk, the leader, was hollering until it seemed as though his vocal chords would tear, while the growl of series of trucks echoed around them. “Even now, they’ve stripped everything. You get in here by truck? They’ll strip that too, take whatever you left behind.”
“We can make it out.” Zitao growled back, though as he heard the sounds of engines purring, followed by the roar of a much larger vehicle, he shrank down a little. “There’s got to be an opening.”
“Where?” Luhan piped up for the first time since introducing himself, though it sounded rather hesitant. Perhaps that was the reason why Minseok was so insistent that he stand between the two parties, as a shield to his friend. “We can take you along but damn...the place is covered in bandits and Minseok can’t do long distance shots too good.”
The string of the bow around Zitao’s chest almost quivered, and he cast Yifan a gleaming smile. The elder noticed. “Then we might be able to help you out with some of your problems.”
-----
Minseok and Luhan offered their small services to Yifan and Zitao, as they waited for the night to settle over the landscape, and for the bandits to eventually give up their search. In that time, they shared what food they had, what knowledge they had, whatever little things they could share.
Minseok had been working in Paju on the day of the outbreak, as a delivery boy for the UN soldiers stationed at Camp Bonifas. He said the Infected were a little delayed because of the amount of landmines and guns that were strewn across the ground, but that they ultimately won out when the soldiers began to fall into their clutches. He ended up fleeing northward with Luhan in tow, finding refuge in Kaesong, before deciding to head northwards after hiding for nearly half a decade in the City of Pines. It had been medicine that drove them there mainly, as well as other like-minded survivors. Unfortunately, they had not encountered any on their travels; Minseok feared them dead.
Luhan, however, was not local to the area; his name was a hint, but the fact he was a tourist and only a half-resident made it clear. He had often come to Paju, due to the fact that his father had US citizenship and was sometimes stationed at the DMZ. His mother didn’t appreciate letting her little boy lay on “the most dangerous golf course in the world”, but Luhan fondly remembered hitting a ball and watching as a landmine was detonated, labelling it as the coolest thing ever when the other soldiers began to cheer in delight, even though he remembered a foreign soldier across the line “getting pretty pissed”. He met Minseok through his visits, and became quite good friends after seeing him deliver so often. Even now, it was clear they stood together like glue.
Yifan and Zitao offered their food and water, while the other survivors pushed forward the cans and bottles they had managed to salvage. “Not much, really.” Luhan sighed quietly, fingers straying on a can of tinned apricots. “We’ve been running low, but every time we go back to Paju, some crazy smelly guy waves his gun around and tells us to turn back the way we came.”
Ah Jongdae, you never fail to meet your expectations. “Yeah, he’s...not the friendliest type.” Yifan agreed, though his mind was elsewhere; he couldn’t stop looking out the window, waiting for the sun to slip over the horizon so they could finally move. “When d’you think we can go?”
“Yongguk likes to signal the night shift with a blast of his bloody shotgun.” Minseok replied, picking his teeth with his little finger. “That thing makes me jump every time, even though we’ve been cooped in this bastard city for nearly a week. I just hope that the others have reached Pyongyang by this time.” Luhan leaned into him and ran his fingers down his back, a comforting gesture.
Just as he stood up ready to pack away his cans of food, there was an almighty crack that filled the air, echoing in their ears and making Yifan’s stomach quiver. Looking to Minseok for confirmation - granted by the nod of his head - Yifan swallowed the bolus of saliva building up in his throat as he darted for the stairs, Zitao hot on his heels.
“You two know the way better than we do.” he called to Minseok and Luhan, who were a lot more cautious in their steps as they glanced out of every window they passed by. They were looking for the bandits, that much was certain. “You take the lead, we’ll cover you.”
They were sprightly at least; maybe that’s how they survived for so long here, avoiding the thieves by sheer speed. The pair were flanked by Yifan and Zitao, dashing between shops and apartments and scampering through the gaps in the buildings via carefully placed planks of wood that would have otherwise made him dizzy beyond compare.
When they arrived at the final opening, Yifan understood their hesitation. For cars had been piled up high in a barricade, hulking metal bodies only leaving enough room for one escape, which was blocked by what Minseok dubbed “the Destroyer”. He could see it armed to the teeth then, but what would it look like in battle. Two men sat on the bonnet with rifles in their hands, while a third was stationed at the back with the turret.
“Told you.” Minseok sighed, wiping the sweat from his forehead. “We’re not gonna be able to get by until-“
“-until something draws out the machine and sends it elsewhere.” Zitao finished off, while Luhan sat down beside what looked to be a baby’s cot. They poured out the contents of their bags, with Zitao grabbing hold of a bottle and Luhan ripping a little cloth from the crib’s blankets. “Yifan, d’you still have some petrol?”
“I have a little...” Luhan tossed over the small flask he had in his bag, watching as Zitao poured himself a couple of bottle’s full. But his eyes were fixed on the cot still, on the toys that lay scattered around in the bed. “I wonder if Mom and Luli made it out-“
But as his fingers strayed over the plush doll of a small deer, Minseok was quick to grab his hand. “Leave that alone. We’ve got to keep moving light.”
“But I-“
“Luhan, please...pay attention, okay?”
Zitao kept his head down as he stuffed the blanket rags into the necks of the Molotovs, while Yifan shuffled over to meet him. “Where should we aim? We need to draw the tank away from the entrance, but not far enough so it won’t notice...there!”
He pointed to a crook in the wall where the bandits were resting for the night, though there were still a few stalking around to survey the area. “Are you sure?” he asked quietly, watching as Yifan struck his lighter and ignited the edge of the rag. “Will we reach them?”
“We don’t have to. We just need their attention!”
Yifan’s arm swing launched the bottle out of the blast-hole in the wall, sending the flaming bottle spiralling down into the street, sending shards of glass and burning fuel all over the ground. Some caught onto the sleeping bandits, while the others merely licked the skeletons of the cars pile and plucked in the street.
“What’s going on? Where the fuck-“ Yongguk’s bellowing voice sounded from further down the road, and it wasn’t long before his sharp eyes tracked another Molotov descending from the sky, crashing to the ground and scattering flames near his feet. “There. Get them!”
The roar of the Destroyer sent shivers down their spines, but at least the plan was working. The great engine howled like a demon as the body was carried along on thick tyres, while Himchan slipped into the driver’s seat and a second man jumped onto the turret.
“Get the floodlights on! Bring it down!”
The bullets stripped plaster from the walls as Yifan and Zitao raced along the corridors, with Minseok pelting further Molotovs and Luhan returning fire. The cries of the bandits grew louder as they poured out of their nest and swarmed the buildings, running up and down the stairs in the hopes of running into the strangers in their midst.
Yifan was quick to dispatch them though, dragging them down when their backs were turned and swiftly snapping their necks in his hold. Minseok copied the action, the muscles in his bulging arms now made useful as the bones of a young thief in his grasp gave out with a loud crunch.
“Light them up, boys!” Yongguk yowled to the sky as more bandits began to join him, until there were at least two dozen in the building, swarming all over to try and find the survivors. “Bring me their heads!”
As they reached the bottom floor, there was space to duck without cover; the cars that the thieves thought to be traps were now their ticket to escape. Minseok led the way, with Yifan covering the back, holding tightly to Zitao’s hands.
“We need to make a break for it.” Minseok’s breath was ragged, but he had determination lighting up his eyes. “Luhan, stay close to me, okay?” The doe-eyed man nodded softly, though he began to tremble in fear as the Destroyer’s engine purred softly. They were getting closer.
But so was someone else. Junhong, the name faint on his tongue, soon turned the corner as his face split with a wide grin. He raised his rifle, teeth bared as he turned his neck to summon assistance. “Yongguk! I found-“
Zitao lunged forward faster than Yifan could hold him back, burrowing the blade of his flick-knife into the crook of the young boy’s neck. Blood sprayed his face as the artery in his throat was severed, spurting his lifeblood everywhere, while Junhong fell to his knees. His head lolled, lips spilling with red, as he tried once more to summon help.
At least he had that granted. For the outline of the leader, muscular arms and spiked hair, turned to face where the group had tried to make a break for the exit. “Himchan, after them!” he boomed, to which the Destroyer’s engine roared mightily and began to turn back for the now-exposed exit to Sariwon.
But Luhan had an idea. He snatched for Zitao’s pack - whose owner only gave out a loud yelp - while Minseok’s eyes widened in confusion. “What are you doing?! We need to go!”
“Wait a moment!” Luhan’s fingers fumbled as he held onto the lighter in his hand, rolling one of the small tin cans he had found in Zitao’s backpack outwards, while sticking another two into the sides of the barricade. But as Yifan watched, he saw that they sparked slowly, lit fuses glowing in the wreckage of the cars. Luhan beamed and began to sprint after them. “Get back!”
The explosions made Zitao’s ears ring, and he almost forgave himself for kneeling down as he covered his ears. Metal screeched behind him as the cars rolled down from the barricade, no longer held steady in the way that Yongguk’s group had organised them. The Destroyer, in what small glimpses could now be seen, had a cloud of black smoke rising from beneath its bonnet, and the engine puttered and wheezed as furious voices rang out from behind the collapsed wall.
They could do nothing though, and the group could only continue to run onward, up the road towards Jeongbangni Station. “It’ll at least get us a break from them.” Luhan panted, staring upwards as the sound of something grunting and growling lurked ahead. “We need to keep going, or-“
“Infected coming!”
Zitao pointed over where the first few malformed shapes started to appear over the horizon. They had probably kept away from Yongguk’s den in self-preservation, but now that there had been such chaos and survivors outside the perimeter, Yifan didn’t find himself surprised when he considered it to be like ringing the dinner bell.
“Run!”
Full-pelt, they ended up sprinting for the station at an immense speed, while Yifan stood at the back of the group, picking off the Infected that chased them with Minseok’s hunting rifle. “Hurry up, they’re coming!” His eyes were sharper, but as a result, he ended up going slower.
Until Luhan shoved him aside and took the rifle. ”Catch up!” he yelled over the howls of the Runners, picking them off with shots to the head and chest. Yifan watched as Zitao managed to sprint for the stairs of the station, taking a vantage point at what had been converted into a watchtower by the previous occupants.
“Clickers coming!” Luhan’s voice was getting and higher with worry, as the twisted faces of the hyper-sensitive Infected loomed and their screeching calls echoed over the hills.
Soon there were only a few, and Luhan could make a break for the station with only three on his tail. Yifan picked off the last Clicker, sending its plates splattered on the ground, leaving only two Runners. “Get inside!”
But only inches from the doors to the station, Luhan found himself trapped beneath scrabbling hands and sharp teeth. He screamed out for help, for somebody to save him as the Runner dragged him back by the leg and pinned him down to the ground in a rabid frenzy.
“You’re not taking him!” Minseok rushed out and kicked the creature backwards with shocked yelp, before he stomped up and down on the lone Runner’s head, until its brains lay mashed up on the ground and its twitching fingers stopped moving. “Leave!” Stomp. “Him!” Stomp. “Alone!” Squelch. When the creature no longer had a grip, Luhan curled up into Minseok’s arms, shaking like a leaf. “Are you alright? He didn’t bite you, did he?”
“No, I’m okay. I kept kicking, he couldn’t get a grip on me.”
Yifan looked up to the small home that had been crouched behind the station, before his back eventually found a resting spot against the wall; it would be safer there, judging by the reinforced style of the building. His muscles began to scream in agony, and he couldn’t help but grit his teeth as he rested his limbs. Thank goodness it was quiet.
“We need to rest for the night. Let’s head on for that house and barricade ourselves there, and we’ll be okay for now.”
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PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 6