THE VARIANT: ZERO HOUR

16. Garbage Weapons

Thud. Thud. Screeeech.

The sound of claws desperately scratching against the steel surface grew increasingly violent. The harsh, metallic screech grated painfully against their eardrums. Every so often, the scratching was punctuated by the heavy slam of a shoulder and guttural, wet growls coming from just outside the Archive Room’s double doors. There were clearly more than just one or two of them out there now. The coppery stench of fresh blood leaking from Minseok’s shoulder had successfully lured a ravenous pack, clustering them right in the third-floor hallway.

Jinwoo pressed his back flat against the concrete wall. The young cop's face was completely drained of color. He stared blankly at the eight bullets resting heavily in the palm of his hand.

"We are going to die in here," Jinwoo muttered, his breathing ragged. "Eight bullets to get through thousands of monsters. We only have an hour and a half left before the sky rains Napalm missiles. We do not have a way out of this."

"Get up, Jinwoo."

Jaemin's voice completely cut through the panic, his tone incredibly flat and freezing cold. The young man in the leather jacket walked steadily toward his friend. There was absolutely no trace of fear left in Jaemin's silver eyes. He had buried the crushing grief of losing his mother into a bottomless pit deep inside his mind.

"I said get up," Jaemin repeated, delivering a light kick to Jinwoo's boot. "We do not have time to sit around crying about our bad luck or counting those few bullets you have left. Load those rounds into the cylinder right now. We are opening that door."

Jinwoo looked up, staring at Jaemin as if his best friend had just completely lost his mind. "Are you insane, Jaem? Opening that door is literally the same as serving ourselves up on a silver platter for their buffet."

"I would rather bleed out trying to fight my way out of here than die a pathetic death getting roasted by military bombs while hiding in a paper closet," Jaemin countered firmly. "Get up, damn it. We are making armor right now."

Min-Ji, who had been busy sharpening her folding knife, immediately raised an eyebrow. The former fixer looked at Jaemin, a crooked smirk of pure curiosity spreading across her face.

"Armor from where, you idiot?" Min-Ji asked sarcastically. "Do you think this is the Middle Ages? There are no suits of armor in a hospital archive room. If you are going to suggest we wear this doctor’s lab coat to stop their bites, I would rather just put a bullet in my own head right now."

Jaemin completely ignored the insult. He turned around and walked briskly toward the steel shelving unit at the very back of the room. His dust-covered hands immediately ripped open several large cardboard boxes stored on the bottom shelf. The contents of the boxes spilled out, scattering across the floor.

There was a massive stack of hardcover medical encyclopedias, dozens of thick health magazines printed on glossy paper, and several operational logbooks. Jaemin then pulled open the admin desk drawer and found four large rolls of brown packing tape.

Jaemin tossed two rolls of tape and a heavy stack of magazines toward Jinwoo and Min-Ji. The items landed with a heavy thud on the floor right in front of their feet.

"Wrap your forearms and your calves with these thick magazines," Jaemin ordered, his tone ringing with the absolute authority of a commander. "Wrap them as tight as you can with that packing tape. Do not leave a single gap. Cover your necks as well if you can manage it."

Jinwoo picked up one of the magazines, its cover reading Healthy Diet Tips. He furrowed his brow, staring at the glossy pages with extreme skepticism. "You want us to use this crap to stop monster bites? It is just paper, damn it."

"Human teeth are blunt, Jinwoo," Jaemin explained, already beginning to wrap two magazines tightly around his left forearm. "It does not matter if they are zombies or actual demons, the physical shape of their teeth does not change. A human jaw is simply not designed to bite through a five-centimeter thick layer of solid cardboard and glossy paper. As long as you wrap that tape tight enough, their bites will only bruise your arm. They will not be able to break the skin and transmit the virus."

Hearing that brand of practical, street-survival logic, Min-Ji's eyes immediately lit up with understanding. She let out a low chuckle. "The absolute genius of a desperate man never fails to impress. Your idea actually makes perfect sense, cafe boy. This is a hell of a lot better than charging out there completely naked."

Min-Ji immediately sat cross-legged on the floor and began wrapping the thick magazines around her forearms. The loud, tearing sound of the brown packing tape echoed rapidly, perfectly contrasting the violent pounding coming from outside the steel door.

Riiiiip. Riiiiip.

Seeing Min-Ji comply, Jinwoo finally let out a heavy sigh of defeat. The cop began assembling his paper armor, a sour expression plastered on his face.

"My life is an absolute joke," Jinwoo grumbled as he wrapped his calves. "My badass police uniform is getting taped up with diet magazines. If I actually die from a bite, the zombie that eats me is definitely going to see a drop in their cholesterol."

"That is great news," Min-Ji shot back without even looking up. "At least your meat will be somewhat useful to the food chain in this brand-new world, Officer. The least your corpse can do is provide some healthy nutrition."

"Your mouth is more toxic than a bowl of spicy noodles, damn it," Jinwoo cursed in sheer annoyance. He yanked the packing tape so hard it snapped.

In the corner of the room, Jaemin had already finished wrapping both of his arms. The makeshift armor did look completely ridiculous. Jaemin's arms were now twice their normal size, making him look as stiff as a cardboard robot. But when he tested the armor by slamming his forearm hard against the steel shelf, the thick layers of magazines absorbed the blunt impact perfectly.

Jaemin turned around and walked over to his little brother. Jihoon was sitting quietly on top of a stack of cardboard boxes. The twelve-year-old boy hugged his knees to his chest, his face pale and drawn.

"Come here, Ji. Let me put some armor on your arms," Jaemin said softly. He brought over several thick notebooks and a roll of tape.

However, Jihoon slowly shook his head. The boy took the thick notebooks right out of Jaemin's hands. He positioned the book against his left forearm, bit down on the end of the tape, and began tightly wrapping it around his own arm.

Jihoon's eyes no longer held the trademark fear of a crying child. There was a brand-new resolve shining in them. It was an incredible mental toughness, seemingly inherited directly from his older brother through the sheer trauma of the day's events.

"You do not need to do it, Jaemin," Jihoon said firmly after successfully taping up his own arm. The boy looked straight into Jaemin's eyes. "I can do it myself. I am growing up. I do not want to be dead weight for you. I will run as fast as I possibly can."

Jaemin's heart swelled with warmth hearing those words. An immense, overwhelming pride ballooned in his chest. His little brother was outright refusing to surrender to despair. Jaemin offered a faint smile and affectionately ruffled Jihoon's hair.

"You really are my little champion," Jaemin praised softly. "Hold onto that scalpel Uncle Jinwoo gave you earlier. If some rotting hand tries to grab you, you stab it in the eye as deep as you can. Do not hesitate. There are no humans left out there, Ji. Do you understand?"

Jihoon gave a firm nod. His small hand gripped the stainless steel handle of the sterile scalpel tightly.

With their armor prepared, it was time to focus on weaponry.

Jaemin picked up the thick wooden stick he had prepared earlier—the broken leg of a heavy desk. He tightly wrapped the handle grip with the leftover packing tape to keep it from slipping if his hands got covered in blood. The solid wood was heavy enough to completely shatter a human skull with a single, brutal swing.

Min-Ji was not satisfied with just her tactical folding knife. The woman ransacked the small janitorial closet near the archive room's tiny bathroom. She found a fairly long aluminum broom handle. Moving with swift efficiency, Min-Ji grabbed a large pair of surgical scissors from the first aid kit Jinwoo had brought.

Min-Ji opened the scissor blades as wide as they would go. She positioned the sharp points of the scissors exactly at the end of the broom handle, then brutally bound the two items together using half a roll of brown packing tape. The binding was incredibly dense and rock solid.

In just two minutes, Min-Ji had successfully crafted a lethal, improvised spear featuring a double-bladed tip made from surgical steel. She spun the spear expertly in her hand, testing its balance and weight. The tips of the scissors hissed as they sliced through the air.

"Now this is a real weapon," Min-Ji muttered in deep satisfaction. She looked over at Jaemin and Jinwoo. "I have a much longer reach now. Their claws won't get anywhere near my face if I can pierce their throats from three feet away."

"The former hitwoman is officially back in action," Jinwoo commented sarcastically, double-checking the spin on his revolver's cylinder. "Let us just hope your little broom spear does not snap in half on the first thrust."

"I will personally make sure the tip of this spear goes straight through the neck of whichever zombie tries to take a bite out of your back, Officer. So do me a favor and shut your mouth," Min-Ji shot back cynically.

Everyone was fully armed. The paper armor was securely strapped on. Their urban apocalyptic survival formation was perfectly established.

Jaemin shifted his gaze to the darkest corner of the room. Kim Minseok was still cowering there, trembling violently. The middle-aged man who created the virus was desperately trying to stem the bleeding from his torn shoulder. Minseok's face was completely slick with tears of sheer terror.

"Get up, baldy," Jaemin ordered harshly. He stepped forward, grabbed the collar of Minseok's white lab coat, and roughly hauled the man to his feet.

"I-I am in pain. I cannot walk fast. I am losing way too much blood," Minseok whimpered pathetically.

Jinwoo immediately delivered a swift kick to the back of Minseok's calf, making the older man cry out in muffled pain.

"Nobody gives a damn about your excuses, you pig," Jinwoo barked without a shred of mercy. The cop used the rest of Min-Ji's paracord to tie Minseok's wrists tightly together in front of his body. The binding was intentionally tied to be extremely painful. "You are walking right in the middle. You are our personal GPS to find that secret evacuation stairwell you mentioned earlier. If you try to trick us or lead us into a dead end, I will personally blow your brains out with the last bullet I have left."

Minseok nodded frantically, his face completely pale. He had absolutely no choice but to obey.

"We are almost out of time," Jaemin issued the final, absolute command. His voice demanded everyone's complete attention in the room. "We have a little over an hour before the Napalm drops. Jinwoo and Min-Ji, the two of you take the front. Clear a path as wide as possible. I will take the rear to protect Jihoon and this dead weight. If anything tries to attack us from behind, my bat will take care of it."

"Understood, Commander," Jinwoo replied. The cop positioned himself directly in front of the double steel doors. He took a slow, deep breath, desperately trying to normalize his wildly racing heartbeat.

Skip forward fifteen minutes.

Their preparations were one hundred percent complete. The frantic scratching and heavy pounding outside the steel door sounded increasingly brutal and impatient. The ravenous growls seemed to seep right through the gap under the door, carrying an incredibly suffocating aura of pure death.

The formation was tightly organized. Jinwoo gripped the door handle with his left hand, his right hand clutching his revolver tightly. Standing right beside him, Min-Ji dropped into a low combat stance, the double-bladed tip of her broom spear aimed dead ahead, ready to impale anything that dared to show its face. In the center row, Minseok stood trembling violently, with Jihoon hiding securely right behind him. At the very rear of the formation, Jaemin gripped his wooden stick so tightly that the veins in his hands bulged against his skin.

"Ready to face hell," Jinwoo whispered. Cold sweat dripped steadily from his chin.

"Open it right now," Jaemin replied flatly.

Jinwoo turned the deadbolt. The sharp click of metal echoed loudly. The cop pressed the heavy steel handle down, then violently yanked the door open with one fast, explosive pull.

The heavy steel door swung wide open. The foul stench of rotting flesh immediately slammed into their faces.

In that exact same second, the figure of a female nurse in a blood-soaked uniform lunged inside from the blind spot on the left side of the doorframe. The nurse's face was completely mutilated. Her lower jaw had been entirely ripped from its hinges, dangling sickeningly against her chest.

The monster lunged forward with absolutely insane speed, locking onto the closest target. Her upper jaw, lined with blackened teeth, snapped straight forward, aiming directly for the center of Jinwoo's face.