THE VARIANT: ZERO HOUR

4. PARASITE IN THE ARCHIVE ROOM

 

"Don't move, or I'll splatter your brains all over those boxes behind you."

The sharp click of the Glock 19's hammer being pulled back echoed coldly in the stuffy, dusty archive room. The black steel barrel of Min-Ji's gun was locked perfectly, aimed straight at the center of the forehead of the middle-aged man cowering in the corner.

"M-mercy! P-please, don't shoot! I'm human! I'm not one of those monsters out there!" The man, Kim Minseok, sobbed hysterically. His dirty white doctor's coat trembled along with his shivering body. He held both hands high in the air, while his other arm clutched a worn, brown leather messenger bag to his chest.

"I know you're human, you pig," Min-Ji hissed, her voice dripping with cynicism. She didn't lower her weapon a single millimeter. She looked at Minseok like he was a dead cockroach. "The question is, are you a useful human, or are you just dead weight? Because in a fucked-up situation like this, I'd rather just shoot the dead weight now so it stops wasting the room's oxygen."

Jaemin, still clutching the arm with the glass shard in it, narrowed his eyes. He was still gasping for breath after his marathon sprint from death. Behind him, Jihoon hid, squeezing the hem of his brother's flannel shirt.

Jaemin’s gaze swept over the middle-aged man's face. The cracked glasses, the messy, slicked-back hair, and that posture. His brain suddenly connected the memory from fifteen minutes ago.

"Wait," Jaemin cut in. His voice was hoarse but firm. He pointed at Minseok with his right hand, which was still stained with the black blood of the zombie doctor. "I remember your face, you son of a bitch. In the ER lobby, right before all hell broke loose, you were the one standing next to the gurney with the convulsing woman, weren't you?!"

Minseok flinched. His eyes blinked in panic. "N-no! Y-you're mistaken! I was just a surgeon passing by!"

"You injected her with something!" Jaemin yelled, his voice jumping an octave, making Jihoon startle. "I saw it with my own damn eyes! Right after you injected her, she turned into a monster and bit another doctor! Then you ran for the emergency stairs!"

Min-Ji glanced at Jaemin for a second before turning her deadly smirk back to Minseok. "Well, well. Looks like we caught a big fish in the storage room. Is the kid right, old man?"

"LIES! THAT'S SLANDER!" Minseok shrieked hysterically, spittle flying from his lips. "It was standard procedure! The patient was in shock, I just gave her a sedative! I ran because I panicked when I saw her bite someone! I swear to God, I don't know anything!"

"Standard procedure, my ass," Min-Ji cut in sarcastically, letting out a bitter laugh. "Since when does an ER doctor bolt without even checking the heart monitor? Besides, you look more like a terrified, two-bit meth dealer than a surgeon."

"I am a surgeon here! My name is Kim Minseok! You can check my ID card!" Minseok fumbled frantically in his coat pocket, trying to find some proof.

"Keep your ID. In a world that just ended half an hour ago, your job title isn't worth shit," Min-Ji threatened. She gave Minseok’s leg a light but demeaning kick. "You stay right there. Don't make a sound that invites your friends outside. You make one wrong move, and my bullet does the talking."

[One hour later]

An hour passed in the suffocating hell of the archive room.

Time seemed to crawl at a snail's pace. Outside the locked steel door, an occasional thud could be heard. Thump… scrape… scrape… The sound of fingernails scratching against metal was enough to erode anyone’s sanity.

In a corner of the room, Jihoon had cried himself to sleep, his head resting on Jaemin's lap. He occasionally whimpered his mother's name in his dreams.

Jaemin sat leaning against a metal shelf, enduring the throbbing pain in his left arm. He had torn off the bottom of his shirt and tied it tightly around the wound to stop the bleeding. The glass shard was still embedded there, just as Min-Ji had instructed, so he wouldn't bleed out.

At the other end of the room, Min-Ji was checking the remaining rounds in her magazine, while Minseok sat huddled, clutching his brown bag, his eyes darting paranoidly toward the door.

Jaemin stared at the middle-aged man. Something inside him was beginning to change. The innocence and naivety of an ordinary young man who preferred hanging out at cafés was slowly dying. It was being replaced by a sharp instinct, forged by pain and the threat of his brother’s death.

Something wasn't right with this guy.

"Hey, old man," Jaemin called out in a low voice.

Minseok looked up, his eyes full of fear. "Y-yes?"

"We've been in here for an hour, and you're still hugging that rotten leather bag like it's a new bride. What's in it?" Jaemin asked, his eyes narrowing.

"Th-this… it's just my medical bag. My stethoscope and personal medication," Minseok answered quickly, too quickly. His hands tightened on the bag’s strap.

Min-Ji, who was cleaning the barrel of her pistol, snorted. "Personal medication? For what? Viagra? Relax, grandpa. In the middle of the apocalypse, no one's gonna want to sleep with you."

"P-please, don't joke," Minseok’s voice trembled. "I have a heart condition. I need this medication."

Jaemin didn't believe a word of it. He gently shifted Jihoon's head onto a stack of empty cardboard boxes so as not to wake him, then he stood up. Jaemin's handsome face now looked ice-cold, a stark contrast to his disheveled, blood-splattered appearance.

He walked toward Minseok.

"Wh-what do you want?!" Minseok scrambled backward until his back hit a metal shelf.

"I want to see what's in your bag," Jaemin said flatly.

"You can't! This is my privacy! You have no right!" Minseok hugged the bag even tighter, his face flushing with panic.

"Privacy?" Jaemin let out a humorless laugh, a dry, empty sound. "In the lobby downstairs, hundreds of people just had their guts ripped out, my little brother was almost eaten by a security guard with a caved-in head, and you're talking to me about privacy?!"

Without warning, Jaemin grabbed the collar of Minseok's white coat and hauled the man to his feet. Fueled by leftover adrenaline, Jaemin's strength easily overpowered the older man.

"Well, look at that. Our little hero is starting to bite," Min-Ji commented from across the room. She leaned her back against the wall, a crooked smile on her face as she prepared to watch the show. "Go on, Jaemin. Don't let up. I'm starting to like your bad-boy side."

"Let go of me, young man! I can report you to the police!" Minseok threatened in a high-pitched voice.

"The police? What cops are gonna help you, you dog?! The ones downstairs busy chewing on a nurse's brain?!" Jaemin roared right in Minseok’s face. The sour smell of sweat and panic radiated from the older man.

Jaemin’s eyes caught a small detail. Minseok’s right hand, the one gripping the bag strap, was slightly swollen. There was a reddish-blue bruise on the back of his hand, as if he had recently struggled against something very strong before he fled to the lobby.

"What's with the bruise on your hand, huh?" Jaemin seized Minseok’s bruised right wrist.

"Ah! D-don't touch me!"

Jaemin didn't let go. Instead of showing mercy, he pressed his thumb into the bruise with all his strength.

This was the moment Jaemin realized that to protect Jihoon in this insane new world, he had to be willing to become insane himself.

"ARGHHH! IT HURTS! LET GO, YOU BASTARD!" Minseok howled in pain. His legs went weak, but Jaemin held him up by his collar.

"You're not pressing hard enough, Jaemin," Min-Ji chided casually, twirling a small folding knife in her hand. "Here, let me just break his index finger. A coward like this won't talk until his fingernails have been pulled out with pliers, one by one."

"I'm going to ask you one more time, old man," Jaemin hissed, ignoring Min-Ji and focusing his murderous gaze on Minseok. The veins on Jaemin's forehead bulged. "What did you inject into that woman in the ER?! Tell me the truth, or I swear I'll throw you out that door to be their afternoon snack!"

"I-I confess! Just let go of my hand, it hurts!" Minseok wailed, his defenses completely shattered by the physical pain and the threat of death.

Minseok struggled violently to break free from Jaemin's grip. He thrashed so hard that the strap of the old leather bag he’d been clutching finally snapped.

THUD!

The brown bag hit the floor hard. Because the zipper wasn't fully closed, its contents spilled across the dusty floor.

There was no stethoscope. There was no heart medication.

What tumbled out was a stack of thick notebooks filled with messy handwriting, several folders containing chemical reaction charts, and… a dozen thick, protective glass vials.

Luckily, the vials didn't break, thanks to the foam padding, but their contents were clearly visible. Inside each vial was a thick, blackish fluid that seemed to move slowly, as if it were alive.

The archive room suddenly fell silent. Even Jaemin stopped breathing.

Min-Ji, who had been leaning casually, shot upright. Her sarcastic expression hardened. She walked quickly toward the scattered items. The toe of her military boot nudged one of the glass vials.

There was a small white sticker on it, with faded red ink.

Min-Ji picked it up slowly. Her eyes read the label, her voice a deathly whisper.

"Dae-woo, Strain-B."

Min-Ji turned her head slowly toward Minseok. Her eyes widened, and the veins in her neck bulged as she suppressed an explosive rage. All the insane pieces of the puzzle suddenly clicked into place in her head.

"You?" Min-Ji pointed the muzzle of her gun at Minseok’s face, her hand trembling with uncontrollable emotion. Her breathing was ragged, her eyes now radiating pure, absolute murderous intent. "This isn't a natural outbreak. This goddamn plague out there… you created the virus."

Jaemin’s eyes were wide with shock. He stared at the pathetic man in his grasp, realizing that the architect of the apocalypse that had just destroyed his world was crying in his hands.