Chapter Text

“The Lord saw that the wickedness of humankind was great in the earth, and that every inclination of the thoughts of their hearts was only evil continually. And the Lord was sorry that he had made humankind on the earth, and it grieved him to his heart. So the Lord said, ‘I will blot out from the earth the human beings I have created—people together with animals and creeping things and birds of the air, for I am sorry that I have made them.'” 

SEOUL — JUNE 28, 2027 — 2:18 PM

The sun was brutal. It bore down on the pavement like it was trying to melt the city. Heat shimmered off the road. Air conditioners leaked from second-story windows. The streets were loud with car horns, kids on bikes, someone blasting EXO music from a convenience store speaker and people just randomly shouting in their phones or to each other. 

Baku leaned against the hood of their battered SUV. He kicked at a loose bottle cap on the ground, watching it skitter across the sidewalk. 

“They’re late. We should’ve left ten minutes ago,” he muttered. 

Gotak, crouched beside the car checking the tire pressure for the third time, didn’t look up. “They’re Suho and Sieun. They’re always late.” 

Baku rolled his eyes. “Yeah, but not this late. They’re probably sucking face one last time before we hit the road.” 

Gotak smirked. “You jealous?” 

“Of what, exactly? Exchanging of saliva? I’d rather die.” 

Gotak stood and wiped his hands on his jeans. “Whatever you say.” 

“I like being hot and single.” 

Gotak shook his head but didn’t argue. His fingers brushed over the car side mirror. Just keeping busy. That’s what he did when he got twitchy. 

Baku stared at him... longer than he meant to. Gotak’s hair was damp from the heat, clinging to his forehead in messy strands, and his brow was furrowed in that familiar way. Like he was deep in thought even when his mind was probably blank. It was the same exact face he made back in middle school when Baku dared him to punch a hole in the principal’s wall; ridiculously serious about stupid things. 

And just like back then, something stupid happened in Baku’s chest. 

How could someone still look like that? How could he still have that same scrunched-up, stubborn expression and make Baku feel like he was fourteen again? Fists clenched, heart racing, and hopelessly in love with his best friend? 

It was honestly embarrassing. 

But God helps him, he found Gotak's expression so fucking endearing he wanted to scream. 

And then a phone rang. 

Shrill. Nearby. 

Both of them instinctively checked their pockets. Nothing. 

Across the street, a woman in an orange shirt lifted her phone to her ear. “Yeoboseyo?” she said. Her tone was casual. 

Her smile slipped. Her whole body jerked once. Subtle, like a hiccup. 

She stopped walking mid-step with one foot in the air like she’d simply forgotten, and then her head snapped sideways with a sickening crunch. 

Her hand trembled. The phone slid an inch lower. Her eyes once normal suddenly rolled up. Just for a second. Then they focused again, but this time, it looks all sharp and wrong. 

She screamed. Not like someone who was afraid or in pain. It sounded more like something alive inside her wanted out. 

Then she lunged at the man near her! Tackling him to the sidewalk and tearing into the man’s neck. Her hands dug into his shoulders with inhuman strength, head jerking forward. Blood sprayed, dotting the ground like paint splatter. 

The man’s legs kicked. Then twitched. Then stopped. 

More screaming erupted from the street. 

“What the fuck??!!” Baku started, but another phone rang behind them. 

A man on a delivery scooter answered without even looking. “Hello?” 

His shoulders went rigid and his hand dropped. His mouth fell open like he was choking. Then he dropped the scooter and sprinted full speed toward a teenage girl standing at a bus stop. 

He slammed into her, knocked her flat, and started clawing at her face. 

“Gogo!” Baku gasped. 

“I see it,” Gotak snapped, already pulling the car door open. “Inside. Now!!” 

They dove into the vehicle. Slammed doors. Locked them. Outside, a woman was smashing her head into a windowpane. Blood streaked the glass. 

Screaming spread like fire. One girl answered a phone on speaker and immediately fell into a seizure before bolting upright and grabbing a street vendor by the hair. Another ringtone. Then another. 

People ran... phones kept ringing and the bodies started dropping. 

INSIDE THE CAR — 2:34 PM

The screams outside weren’t human anymore. They were wet, gurgling sounds. Guttural. Like animals choking on their own blood. Baku sat frozen in the passenger seat, eyes wide and unblinking, and watching the nightmare unfold through the windshield like he wasn’t in it. Like this was some violent film he’d accidentally wandered into. 

Except the blood wasn’t fake... it glistened and it splattered everywhere. It clung to the pavement and smeared under desperate feet. 

A man slammed against the hood of their car. His skull cracked wide open and blood bubbled from his mouth as he twitched violently. He was still twitching even after someone bashed his head in with a street sign. His phone was still clutched in his hand, screen glowing. 

It buzzed again. Another call. 

Gotak jammed the keys into the ignition, hand trembling so badly it took three failed tries before the engine finally coughed, sputtered, and then roared awake. His breathing was erratic. Sweat streamed down his temple, and his knuckles went white as he gripped the wheel. 

Baku tore his eyes away from the windshield and turned to him. 

“What the hell is this?” he panted. “What the fuck is happening?!” 

“I don’t know,” Gotak said through clenched teeth. “But I think it’s the phones. Every single one of them... they answer, and then they change.” 

Baku blinked, disoriented. “You’re saying answering a call turns people into... into what, zombies?! That’s just...” 

“Don’t say it’s insane!” Gotak barked, eyes wild. “You just saw the same fucking thing I did. They answer. Then they turn. They go fucking feral.” 

“Turn into what exactly!? This isn’t a movie, Gotak! Zombies don’t fucking exist!” 

“I don’t fucking know, Baku!” Gotak's voice cracked. “But it’s like a switch. They pick up, and within seconds they’re gone. You saw that woman!! Eyes clouded, and the sound she made? She was fucking gone.” 

The car was moving now. Just creeping forward down the side street. Slow. Careful not to draw attention. 

And then...

RING. RING. 

Both of their phones lit up. 

Simultaneously. 

Shrill. Piercing. A sound so sharp it felt like it was drilling into the base of their skulls. 

UNKNOWN NUMBER. INCOMING CALL. 

The glow of the screen cast an eerie light inside the car. It felt like the phones themselves were alive and was taunting them to answer. 

Their blood turned to ice. 

RING. RING. 

The sound vibrated through their bones. Felt like claws dragging across the walls of their minds. 

They locked eyes. 

Baku’s hand hovered over his phone. Lip trembling. “What if it’s Sieun?” he whispered. 

“Sieun always texts first,” Gotak said immediately. His voice was steady but flat. Like he had already accepted something that Baku hadn't. 

Baku stared at the screen. His heart was beating so hard it felt like it was slamming against his ribs, trying to break out. The ringtone wormed into his brain. 

Answer me. Answer me. Answer me. 

“Gogo?” he breathed. “I’m scared.” 

Gotak didn’t answer. Not with words, anyway. 

Instead, he reached over and took Baku’s phone from his trembling hand. Then, just as slowly, his arm crossed the console toward where his own phone sat buzzing. His movements were careful. Like any sudden shift might set off a trap. 

Without saying a thing, he gently turned both phones face-down. Like that small act might be enough to keep whatever this was at bay. 

But the sound didn’t stop. Now the vibration echoed eerily in the small space inside the car. Like the phones were angry. 

Then, without a word, Gotak rolled down the window. 

The air outside reeked of blood and smoke. Someone was sobbing nearby. The kind of broken cry that sounded like it had come from deep inside a body that was moments away from death.  

Then he flung both phones out the window. 

CRACK. 

Glass shattered across the asphalt. The phones hit the ground and scattered. 

Neither of them looked back. 

Baku was still holding his breath. The silence in the car now was almost louder than the screams outside. 

And then... from somewhere down the road, another phone began to ring. 

RING. RING. 

And someone answered. 

Then all hell broke loose. 

STREETS OF HELL — 2:48 PM

They drove like the devil himself was hanging off the bumper. 

The streets were carnage. Blood smeared across windshields, streaked down faces, painted roads in splatters and smears. People running, crying, shouting and praying to the gods. 

A man stumbled into their lane. Half his face gone. His teeth were still chattering, even with his jaw unhinged. He slammed against the hood with a thump, bounced off like a ragdoll, hit the ground hard... and got up again. Like broken bones meant nothing. Like the switch for pain had been turned off. 

To the left, two cars collided with a crunch of metal and shattering glass. One driver flew halfway out the window, limp and bloodied. A second later, the passenger door opened and a woman with blank eyes and a shattered leg began crawling out. Her nails dragging down the door like claws. 

A girl bolted past barefoot. One foot raw and torn open to the bone. A streak of blood trailed behind her like a red ribbon unspooling. She wasn’t crying; she was laughing. Head tilted, eyes rolled back, and mouth wide open in hysterical, high-pitched giggles that echoed against the buildings. 

Sirens wailed in the distance. One engine cut mid-howl... then silence, then smoke. 

They passed a woman curled in the fetal position on the sidewalk. She was rocking back and forth. Her phone was lying next to her, ringing violently. Her hands clamped over her ears, and she just rocked. Didn’t move. Didn’t answer. 

Baku held his breath. 

Please, he thought. Don’t pick it up. Please just stay like that. 

Inside the car, Gotak’s grip tightened on the wheel. 

“We need to find the others,” he said, eyes darting across the windshield. “We were supposed to meet back there. If they were on the way, they should be close. Right?” 

“There!” Baku suddenly pointed, voice sharp. 

Across the intersection, a door slammed open. Sieun burst out of the building, gripping a tire iron slick with something dark. His hoodie was soaked down one side. Whether it was his blood or someone else’s was unclear. Suho followed seconds later, swinging a heavy backpack onto one shoulder and gripping a dented metal bat with the other. 

Both of them looked like they’d seen hell. But they were alive. 

Gotak didn’t hesitate. He slammed the brakes so hard the tires screamed, then flung open the door. 

“PHONES?!” he yelled. 

“OFF!” Sieun shouted, lunging into the back seat. “Smashed mine. Suho almost picked his up...” 

“I didn’t answer!” Suho barked, diving into the car and slamming the door behind him. 

“Good,” Gotak said, flooring the gas. “We don’t know if it’s the phones, but every time someone answers… it happens.” 

“We noticed,” Sieun muttered, eyes glued to the bloody rearview mirror. “Is this happening everywhere?” 

Baku’s knuckles were white on the dashboard. “We don’t know. Feels like it.” 

“It’s not like a virus,” Suho said, voice low and urgent. “That’s not how viruses work, right? You don't catch a flu like this. This is... this is something else. It’s not natural. It’s wrong.” 

“There’s nothing fucking normal about any of this,” Gotak muttered. 

And just as the car surged forward again, something hit the ground behind them with a deafening crack. 

A man... no, a thing had leapt from a second-story balcony. His body slammed onto the pavement with bone-breaking force. 

His shoulder was dislocated and his arm hanging at a sick angle. Blood poured from the side of his face where it had scraped the gravel. His leg was twisted. 

And still… 

He stood. 

Snapped upright like a puppet yanked by invisible strings. His head twitched once, then locked onto their car. 

Then he ran. 

Full sprint. Broken bones be damned. His feet slapped against the asphalt like thunder. One arm dragged, his mouth hung open in a silent scream. 

Baku looked into the side mirror. “He’s coming.” 

Gotak didn't look back. 

“Fuck that!” 

FIRST FIGHT — 2:59 PM

They didn’t make it far. 

A delivery truck had jackknifed across the road, steam hissing from the mangled hood. Its front end was smashed into a building, the windshield spiderwebbed with cracks. Behind it, on the broken pavement, five figures crouched over a twitching body. They were feeding. Hands ripping. Teeth grinding. Blood painted their mouths, smeared up to their elbows. 

The body beneath them spasmed one last time, then stopped. 

One of the figures jerked upright. Too fast. Its head snapped toward them. 

Then all five pairs of blood-wet, empty eyes locked on the car. 

Baku’s throat clenched. “They heard us.” 

Then they moved. 

They didn’t run like humans. They charged like wild animals. Arms flailing, feet pounding, limbs too loose and uncoordinated. The closest one hit the hood of the car at full speed with a bang that made the frame shudder. Its face smeared blood across the windshield as it screeched. Clawing at the glass like it wanted to dig through. 

Another one was already climbing onto the roof. Fingers scraping the metal and boots denting the top. 

Gotak fumbled to reverse, but the tires screeched uselessly. 

“OUT!” Sieun barked, already reaching for the door. “If they trap us inside, we’re dead!” 

They spilled out into the street. Stumbling, and slipping on blood-slick pavement. 

Suho swung first. His bat connected with the side of a woman’s face. Crack. Teeth flew. She collapsed, spasming on the ground but still reaching. 

Sieun followed, jaw clenched as he brought the tire iron down across another’s head. The sound it made wasn’t right. Like smashing wet fruit. 

A man in a business suit, the remains of a tie still hanging from his throat, lurched from the side. His eyes were bleeding. Red tears streaked down his cheeks as he screamed. Mouth stretched too wide. Throat bubbling. 

He lunged at Gotak. 

“GOGO!” Baku shouted, and threw himself between them. 

He slammed the man into a parked sedan, the window shattering with the force. The man snarled. Foamed at the mouth and started biting at the air. 

Gotak was there a second later. Grabbing the man’s shirt, he yanked him forward and drove his knee into the man’s face. Once. Twice. Three times. There was a sickening crack as bone caved in and blood sprayed across Gotak’s arm. The man dropped. 

Sieun pivoted and took down another from behind, striking low at the knees, then swinging again at the temple as it fell screaming. 

Suho knocked his attacker to the ground and Baku, panting, shaking, brought his boot down with a roar. The skull burst beneath his heel like an overripe melon. Blood gushed, painting the sidewalk red. 

The street was silent again. 

All five bodies lay twisted, twitching… and finally still. 

The boys stood in a loose circle, backs to each other, chests heaving. They were drenched; in sweat, in blood, in fear. 

Gotak’s knuckles were torn and bleeding, skin hanging in strips. Baku’s shirt clung to him, soaked through. Suho’s hands trembled around the bat. Sieun’s lip was split, dripping onto his shirt. 

None of them spoke at first. 

The smell of blood, iron-rich and warm, filled their lungs. 

Suho broke the silence, his voice a cracked whisper. “What the hell are they?” 

Gotak didn’t answer right away. He was still staring at the man he’d killed. The tie. The human clothes. The almost normal face. 

Finally, hoarse: “We don’t know.” 

He looked up at the others. 

“But we can’t fucking stay here.” 

THE PLAN — 3:27 PM

Back inside the car, silence clung to them. 

Breathless. Bloodied. Shaken. None of them could quite believe they were still alive. 

The engine hummed low beneath them as they moved through streets that looked less like a city and more like a war zone. Storefronts smashed. Fires flickering on rooftops. Blood smeared across glass and concrete. 

The city was screaming! Sirens in the distance, car alarms wailing, people sobbing or shouting in the alleys. Somewhere, the unmistakable screech of one of those things, high-pitched and wet, pierced the air like a blade. 

Gotak’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel. “We need to get Juntae.” 

“Dorms?” Sieun asked, leaning forward from the back seat. 

“Should be,” Baku muttered. “He said he’d wait for us yesterday. I told him to stay put until we picked him up.” 

“We’ll find him,” Suho said. “We’ll figure out the rest once he’s with us.” 

“No phones,” Gotak said firmly. “From now on, anything that rings? Treat it like it’s radioactive.” 

“Or demonic,” Suho muttered. “Whatever it is, it’s not human.” 

Baku added under his breath, “I agree. It’s like a demonic possession we watch on movies. Like something takes over. Fast.” 

“Whatever it is, we saw how fast it spreads.” Sieun said. “We are seeing the collapse of society.” 

They fell into silence again. 

Then came a distant roar. Low. Growing louder. 

Suho looked out the window. “What the hell?” 

Over the buildings ahead, the black shadow of a military helicopter suddenly cut across the sky. It was flying low. Too low. Wobbling. The tail was damaged, smoke trailing in a thick black streak behind it. 

Another roar. Deafening now, as a jet shot overhead. It was barely skimming above the rooftops. It veered sharply to the left, one wing clearly trailing flames. 

Then... boom. 

The helicopter clipped the corner of a high-rise, spiraling uncontrollably. The rotors exploded in a shower of metal shards. It slammed into a parking garage two blocks away with a sickening, earth-rattling crash. A black plume of smoke and fire mushroomed into the sky. 

Seconds later, the jet nosedived into a nearby building. Followed by a thunderous explosion that shook the windows of the car. Glass cracked. Alarms wailed louder. 

Gotak slammed the brakes, heart thudding against his ribs. All four of them stared out the windshield in stunned silence, breath frozen in their chests. 

“…That was the fucking military,” Suho whispered.  

Sieun said nothing, but his face had gone pale. 

“This isn’t just Seoul,” Baku murmured. “If the air force is going down... it’s everywhere.” 

Gotak’s hands trembled on the wheel. “We need to move. Now.” 

The car surged forward again. Past twisted wreckage. Past people screaming into dead phones. Past the sound of sirens that no longer promised help. 

“No one’s coming to save us,” Sieun said. 

“We save Juntae,” Baku answered. “Then we survive together.” 

The city burned and howled around them. 

They drove into the unknown.