THE VARIANT: ZERO HOUR

15. Signal of Despair

Crack. Bzzzzzt.

An incredibly loud and harsh burst of static suddenly erupted from Jinwoo's waist. The young cop's tactical police radio, which had been completely dead and presumed broken since the riot began, turned on by itself. Its frequency crackled sharply, shattering the silence of the Archive Room that had previously only been filled with the metallic stench of blood and the terrified sobs of the survivors.

Everyone in the room flinched in shock. Min-Ji reflexively drew her Glock pistol again, aiming the barrel in every direction. Meanwhile, Jinwoo hurriedly unclipped the radio from his belt with slightly trembling hands.

"What the fuck, how did this turn on by itself?" Jinwoo cursed in panic. He frantically tried to turn down the volume knob so the loud noise would not attract the horde of zombies outside the steel door. "This is a military emergency frequency. How the hell did it connect to my radio?"

Beep. Beep. Beep.

A highly familiar three-tone alarm, one that never failed to trigger cold sweat in any Korean citizen, blared loudly from the radio's speaker. It was the National Emergency Warning tone.

Jaemin, who had just been intimidating Minseok, immediately froze. A terrible premonition instantly choked his throat. He took a step back and pulled Jihoon to take shelter behind his legs.

A male operator's voice, speaking in a cold and completely emotionless robotic tone, began broadcasting through the static. It was a message that would change the rest of their lives forever.

"Attention. This is an emergency instruction broadcast from the Central Military Defense Command. Repeat. This is a level one absolute emergency instruction."

Jinwoo swallowed hard. "Level one? That is fucking insane."

"To all remaining police units, military personnel, and civilians who are still listening. The status of the unknown pathogen outbreak has reached Critical Red Level. Infection containment efforts via ground evacuation routes are officially declared a total failure."

"A total failure?" Jinwoo stared at Jaemin with wide eyes. "The military gave up on this city?"

"The radius of Daehan Metropolitan Hospital, along with all structural buildings within a one-kilometer range, is officially designated as a Black Zone. This area has been categorized as a primary incubation nest. There will be no further air or ground rescue operations conducted in this zone."

Min-Ji narrowed her eyes. The former fixer clenched her left fist tightly. "They are going to wipe this place off the map."

"To prevent the spread of the pathogen to the central capital, Central Command has deployed the Tactical Air Squadron. The Black Zone area will be sterilized using carpet bombing methods and Type-B Napalm incendiary missiles. The area will be scorched to the ground. There are no exceptions for any biological targets."

Jihoon gripped the edge of his older brother's leather jacket tightly. "Jaemin. What is a Napalm bomb?"

Jaemin did not answer. His jaw clamped completely shut, the veins in his neck bulging against his skin.

"The first missile launch will commence exactly three hours from the time of this broadcast. To any uninfected citizens, immediately evacuate the Black Zone radius as far as possible. If you remain in the area when time runs out, you will be categorized as an unavoidable casualty. May God protect humanity."

Bzzzzzt. Crack.

The red indicator light on the radio blinked twice before finally dying completely. The frequency was unilaterally cut off. It left behind a silence a hundred times more terrifying and suffocating than when they had watched the sea of monsters tearing into flesh in the lobby.

Inside that cramped, dusty Archive Room, a death sentence had just been handed down to them.

Panic exploded in a matter of seconds.

"Government bastards!" Min-Ji exploded in a fury. She kicked the steel desk drawer in front of her, denting it inward with a loud, metallic crash. "Fucking cowards! They would rather roast us alive with hellfire than send an evacuation team down here!"

Jinwoo dropped the radio to the floor. The young cop roughly ruffled his buzz-cut hair in sheer frustration. Panic was clearly painted across his blood-stained face.

"Three fucking hours!" Jinwoo yelled, his voice strained. "We are given three hours to get out of a one-kilometer radius? You heard it yourself just now! Outside this room, there are hundreds, maybe thousands of zombies! The distance from the third floor to the outer courtyard feels like going from Earth to Pluto! What are we supposed to use to run? Wings?"

Minseok, who was still sprawled on the floor from Jaemin's slap earlier, began crying hysterically once again. "I do not want to burn to death! Please help me! You have to take me out of here!"

"You better shut your mouth right now, or I will be the one to burn you first, you pig!" Min-Ji snapped, aiming the muzzle of her pistol straight at the face of the doctor who had created the virus. "You started this whole mess, and now we all have to get bombed by the military because of your absolute stupidity!"

Amidst the mass hysteria sweeping through the room, Jaemin remained completely silent.

The young man squeezed his silver eyes shut. The image of his mother in her maroon dress, chewing on a security guard's intestines downstairs, flashed through his mind once again. That wound of grief was still gaping wide and bleeding heavily in his heart. The apocalypse had already taken his mother. And now, this apocalypse was trying to take the only family he had left.

Jaemin opened his eyes. There were no more tears. There was no more sorrow left to weaken his sanity. In an instant, he weaponized that profound grief, compressing it into pure, lethal adrenaline.

He turned around and looked at Jihoon. The twelve-year-old boy stood trembling, his swollen eyes staring up at his older brother in sheer terror.

"Jaemin. Are we going to burn to death?" Jihoon asked, his voice incredibly fragile.

Jaemin knelt. He leveled his face with his little brother's. Jaemin's hands, stained with black blood, gently cupped both of Jihoon's cheeks.

"Listen to me very carefully, Jihoon," Jaemin said. His tone was not loud. It was incredibly calm, yet it radiated absolute authority. "No one is going to burn to death today. I am not going to let a single spark of fire or any monster out there touch your skin. You are safe with me. That is a promise."

Jihoon swallowed hard and nodded slowly. "I believe you."

Jaemin stood up tall. The last remnants of the naive cafe worker were completely dead. The person standing in this Archive Room right now was a protector, fully prepared to carve a bloody path to freedom.

Jaemin walked over to a pile of junk in the corner of the room. He picked up a thick wooden stick, the broken leg of a ruined desk. He spun the wood in his hand, gauging its weight and balance. His eyes darted between Jinwoo and Min-Ji, his gaze as cold as arctic ice.

"Stop fucking panicking," Jaemin commanded firmly. "Panic is not going to stop those bombs from dropping on our heads."

"How the hell am I not supposed to panic?" Jinwoo fired back, his chest heaving. "We only have three hours! Do you know how many monsters are in the emergency stairwell? They are out there waiting to turn us into dinner!"

"If they are waiting for us, then we will feed them," Jaemin replied flatly. "But they are not getting our flesh. We will feed them wood and lead. We are getting out of this room right now."

Min-Ji raised an eyebrow. The former fixer holstered her pistol with a crooked smirk. "I like your style, Jaemin. Fear is just a waste of calories. We punch through that sea of corpses down there. Whatever blocks our path, we destroy."

"The two of you have completely lost your minds," Jinwoo shook his head in sheer disbelief. "We are just normal people. There is zero guarantee we can even make it to the main lobby. Especially with a kid and this dead weight of an old man." Jinwoo shot a disgusted glare at Minseok.

"That is a problem for later. The only thing that matters is getting out of this coffin," Jaemin replied resolutely. "Jinwoo. Check your remaining ammo. We have to calculate exactly when you are allowed to shoot and when I have to swing."

Hearing that instruction, Jinwoo took a deep breath and desperately tried to control his racing heart. The cop turned his service revolver over. He pressed the cylinder release latch and swung out the chamber.

The scrape of metal sounded loud in the quiet room. Jinwoo dug into his tactical belt pouch, counting the spare rounds he had left. Jinwoo's face, which had been flushed red with anger, suddenly drained as pale as a sheet of paper. His eyes bulged as he stared down at the palm of his own hand.

"Damn it. This is fucking impossible," Jinwoo whispered, his voice trembling.

"What is wrong? How many bullets do you have left?" Min-Ji asked sharply.

Jinwoo looked up, staring at Jaemin and Min-Ji with a look of absolute despair. He had six rounds sitting in the cylinder and exactly two spare bullets resting in his palm.

"Eight," Jinwoo answered hoarsely. "I only have eight bullets left. I wasted way too many shots while running to this room."

Jaemin froze. His grip on the wooden stick tightened until his knuckles turned white.

"Eight bullets," Jinwoo repeated, letting out a bitter, deeply pathetic laugh. The cop leaned his back against the wall. "We have to go down from the third floor. We have to pass through pitch-black hallways. We have to clear an emergency stairwell packed with corpses. We have to break through a lobby filled with thousands of starving monsters. And we only have eight bullets to protect five lives. This is a fucking suicide mission. We are never going to survive this."

That suffocating atmosphere of despair choked the room once again. Three hours. Eight bullets. Thousands of monsters. It was a completely absurd ratio for this small group to overcome.

Just as their minds hit a dead end trying to calculate a way out of those fatal statistics, a sound from outside successfully made their blood run cold.

Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.

The incredibly faint sound of sharp claws scraping against metal echoed through the air. The noise came directly from the other side of the double steel doors locking them inside this Archive Room.

The hair on the back of Jinwoo's neck stood on end. "What the fuck. What the hell is that sound?"

Scratch. Scratch. Grrrrrrr.

This time, the scratching was accompanied by a wet, guttural growl and the extremely loud sound of heavy sniffing. Something was sniffing the gap at the bottom of the steel door. Something ravenously hungry.

Min-Ji's eyes immediately locked onto Kim Minseok, who was still cowering on the floor. Fresh blood was still leaking from the old man's shoulder, a result of the female monster's bite earlier. A thick puddle of crimson blood oozed slowly across the linoleum floor, spreading all the way toward the gap under the door.

"Son of a bitch," Min-Ji cursed softly. She pulled a tactical folding knife from her jacket pocket. "The metallic stench of this old man's blood has leaked out into the hallway. His blood lured them right to us."

The first impact finally hit.

Thud.

The steel door rattled slightly. It was immediately followed by a second, much heavier blow.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

"Graaaarrrgghh!" A savage roar erupted from the other side of the door, followed instantly by the frantic stampede of dozens of feet sprinting down the outside corridor. They were no longer alone. The monsters had found their hiding spot. Their time to hide had completely run out.

Jaemin gripped his wooden stick tightly and stood firmly in front of Jihoon. His eyes burned with an inextinguishable fire of absolute defiance. The apocalypse countdown had officially begun.