Marauder of the Apocalypse

Day 2 of the zombie outbreak.

I woke up in a holding cell.

***

The sound of clanging bars and someone shouting can be heard.

"Wake up, wake up! It's time to get up! We'll serve you breakfast in a bit."

I groggily got up. My whole body aches from sleeping on the hard floor. Through my hazy vision, the sterile sights of the holding cell unfolded.

Iron bars. Police.

That's when the memories came back. Murder, Arrest, The body search, the confiscated pot, and the postponed investigation that was supposed to start today.

"Ah..."

I covered my face with both hands and let out a deep sigh. My life is as dark as the view in front of me.

Murder, of all things. I misjudged from the beginning. Even though a zombie outbreak occurred, the apocalypse didn't come. I didn't need to react that way.

The scene I saw through the window of the car when I was being transported here yesterday came to mind.

'The world was really fine...'

Although the zombie outbreak had occurred, there were no zombies visible on the streets. It was just people wearing masks. The world hadn't changed much.

Only my life changed.

"I must be crazy, really. Ah. Ah. Why did I kill someone."

I slapped my head repeatedly.

Was it because I was sleep-deprived? Or because I had immersed myself too much in writing a zombie apocalypse scenario? I acted impulsively.

And this is the result. Detention center. Awaiting prison. I'll probably be on the news.

As I lowered my hand, I saw an ajusshi (middle-aged man) lying on the floor, reeking of alcohol, and a young man covered in tattoos. They are also locked up in this detention center.

"..."

The tattooed young man carefully looked at me and then quietly stepped back. It seems he either heard my muttering or knows that I was arrested on a murder charge.

The heavy reality dawned on me again. I am now a criminal who people avoid.

I slumped my shoulders and blankly looked out through the bars. Since I've been caught, I have no more future to plan out while writing scenarios.

Hire a lawyer, wait for the trial...

That's it.

'There's nothing I can do.'

I leaned my back against the corner.

Aside from the police officer sitting in front and the TV turned on beyond the bars, there's nothing to pass the time in this detention center.

'Detention center... This is an experience too, isn't it...'

I chuckled self-deprecatingly as I unconsciously pondered if I could use the current situation for a scenario.

'I ended up in prison, so what scenario? Can I adapt what I've experienced in prison into a scenario after I get out?'

Even if I'm sentenced to at least 10 years in prison, I wonder what's the point. I'm labeled as a murderer, so will it even work out? Or maybe the zombie apocalypse coming would be better than serving time in prison.

I mindlessly continued my thoughts, then looked at the large TV outside the bars.

Disaster broadcast? Emergency broadcast? Anyway, an urgent news report was playing.

I listened closely.

- The patients are showing zombie-like symptoms, but they are simply infected with a virus. With proper disease prevention measures, citizens don't need to worry too much.

The expert said to not worry, as this virus is easier to manage than the coronavirus that ended a few years ago.

Then the announcer received some papers and smiled happily.

- We have a breaking news update.

The screen changed.

It showed armed forces raiding a building. Soon, several people were dragged out in handcuffs.

- The Immortal Company, a global pharmaceutical company, has had its executives in the Korean branch arrested for ordering the release of the I-virus.

The screen kept changing rapidly.

Drone-like devices were seen flying around crowded places like concert halls, stadiums, rallies, and transportation hubs.

The announcer read the report carefully.

- According to a whistleblower, the Immortal Company systematically and intentionally released the virus worldwide under the headquarters' orders.

"Ah

I sighed.

The zombie apocalypse was unrealistic after all. This virus is easier to handle than COVID-19 due to its distinct symptoms, and the government's administrative power is intact.

Even using drones to spread the virus, the world is not so easily shaken.

'Why did I even splash soapy water? I could have just closed the door and held out.'

A momentary mistake has pushed my life off a cliff. I remained deeply regretful as I continued watching the TV.

The screen changed again, showing Immortal Company locations being raided worldwide - in the US, China, Russia, Japan, France, UK, and more.

- The governments are cooperating to search Immortal Company facilities. Doctor, will this affect vaccine and treatment development?

- Of course. Since this is their engineered virus, the research data should be there. Obtaining this data could help the development.

The doctor paused for a moment before continuing.

- At the very least, we can establish effective prevention protocols.

I'm not sure if that's true or just irresponsibly optimistic words due to broadcast guidelines.

Everything seemed hopelessly pessimistic to me.

- We have new information. The chairman of Immortal Company's headquarters has also been arrested.

Just then, the arrested Immortal Company chairman was being led away, wearing a strange smile. It felt as if he was mocking me through the screen.

I clenched my fist tightly, my nails digging into my palm painfully.

"Because of that man."

If it weren't for that crazy Immortal Company, the zombie outbreak wouldn't have happened, and I wouldn't have had to kill someone. It's all, all because of that man. My life.

In the first place, if that man had just properly made the virus, my killing someone would have just been eliminating a potential competitor in the same building.

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"If only..."

I muttered. Dark thoughts came to mind.

If only the zombie apocalypse would come. If the world became a mess. If a world where killing people became an everyday thing arrived.

My crime would be buried, and I could live as a normal person, couldn't I?

The fear of trial and prison, the stigma of being a murderer, the shattered dream of a scenario writer, the bleak future - all of it became a pressure that tightened my brain.

I grabbed my head and let out a groan. It felt like my brain was being compressed, and I couldn't bear it.

And then, I heard a sound.

"Grrrr."

A beastly cry. Not the snoring of a drunk uncle, nor my own sound. I quickly raised my head.

It was the tattooed youth crouched across from me. He had suddenly become a zombie.

***

Like the student zombie I saw yesterday.

The suddenly zombified tattooed youth grabbed his head with both hands and growled. For a moment, I saw drool dripping from the shadows. The youth raised his head. His eyes were bloodshot.

"..."

The headache disappeared in an instant. I'm trapped in the holding cell with a zombie, and what am I worrying about the future for? The problem is right now.

Countless words spread out in my mind.

'Zombie. What kind of nature does it have?'

It transforms without any precursory symptoms. Its aggression is certain. But what is the criterion for choosing its target? Its sensory organs must be at the human level. What should I do now?

Thud - Drip-

The tattooed youth cracked his joints and got from his seat. Like an excited beast, he turned his head frantically. In the silent holding cell, he would poke his head into the bars to chase the TV sound, and then sharply glance at the loudly snoring drunk uncle.

I quietly watched the tattooed youth, then slowly raised my hand. I covered my mouth and nose with my hand to muffle the sound of my breathing.

'It's the sound.'

I hold my breath in the corner of the holding cell.

"Urgh."

The tattooed youth paced roughly between the bars and the snoring drunk uncle. Drool dripped where he passed, leaving a trail.

'Pay attention!'

I desperately gestured to the police outside. I didn't dare to shout, fearing I would become the target.

"Wow, why did such a rich person do that?"

But the police just turned around and watched the TV, and eventually, an accident happened.

Snore-

The drunk uncle lying on the floor of the holding cell, snoring loudly. His face was still flushed, and his shirt and tie were loosely undone, perhaps still under the influence of alcohol.

The tattooed youth glared at the drunk uncle and crouched down. His face was completely distorted. It seemed like he couldn't stand the snoring sound, filled with irritation and anger. He opened his mouth wide and pounced.

There was no scream. The tattooed youth simply bit into the throat of the drunken uncle.

Rip, the flesh was roughly torn away. Red blood gushed out. The sound and color vividly approached.

The drunken uncle woke up in an instant.

"Aaaaah! What, ahhh! Go away, go away!"

The holding cell was dyed in screams and blood. Turned into a crime scene.

I quietly approached the door, and the police watching TV jumped up in surprise. The police blinked their eyes and quickly grabbed the radio.

"In the holding cell, a prisoner is attacking another prisoner!"

Around that time, our eyes met. I desperately rolled my eyes, looking at the infected person, then the police, and silently gestured towards the door.

If they don't open the door, I'll be attacked and killed too, please open the door.

The police averted their eyes.

"Contact 119. And backup! It seems difficult to subdue the infected person alone."

No, what backup! A person is dying right now!

I was about to shout angrily, but I firmly shut my mouth. I'm going crazy. Glancing at the tattooed youth, he seemed to have lost interest after taking a bite of the drunken uncle.

"Ugh, ugh."

The drunken uncle could no longer snore. He pressed his two hands on the wound on his neck, panting, and looked at the ceiling of the holding cell with greatly dilated pupils.

Splat, the tattooed youth stepped on the bloody mess and quickly looked around. His bloodshot eyes briefly glanced between the silent me and the police making the radio call.

My body tensed up involuntarily. Can I fight and win? No, fighting is not the important thing. Even if I win the fight, I can ultimately lose.

Unknown virus infection routes. Bitten, splattered saliva, scratched, or transmitted through breathing. I have to be careful about all of them.

'Not fighting is the best.'

I held my breath. Then I secretly winked at the police. Slowly moving my hand, I pretended to tap on the bars. Trying to draw their attention.

"Ah!"

Fortunately, the police were quick-witted. They quickly unfolded a baton and enthusiastically banged on the bars on the opposite side of me.

The somewhat dazed expression on the tattooed youth's face distorted again. It seemed like he was covering his ears with his tightly clenched fists, but the next moment he rushed towards the bars.

"Aaaaah!"

The tattooed youth slammed his head against the bars as if his head would split open. His forehead was torn and bleeding. It was almost self-harm. Seeing that blood, the police backed away.

"Oh no, this isn't good."

Apparently, various problems related to the prisoner have come to mind, such as provoking self-harm or something.

But the police were already too late. The excited tattooed youth continued to throw himself at the police, grinding his teeth.

He didn't have the slightest interest in me.

'Alright.'

I smiled as I adjusted my mask.

And the opportunity to escape has arrived.

The police rushing into the holding cell to subdue the infected person, the drunken uncle bleeding being rescued by opening the holding cell door, the zombie bursting out and entangling with the police.

I looked at the wide open door and the entrance to the holding cell, and the empty detective office beyond it.