Chapter Text
All I know is running. Some might even go as far as to say it’s my best quality. If anybody knew me, that is. Another thing I know is the fact that the whole world ended ten years ago and that since then most of the population has turned into ferocious creatures. Since then, governments fell, the United Nations crumbled under the spreading disease and every major city in the entire world turned into the most dangerous place anyone could ever imagine. If the Screechers, or even the Crawlers, don’t kill you first, then one thing that you should fear even more is a human being. Survivors don’t care about anyone else besides their own. Even before, it was known that humanity's biggest enemy is a human.
Gangs quickly overpowered the remaining people in major cities, made them surrender, and gave up everything they’d accumulated. They learned how to move along the zombies, cleared significant buildings and made homes of what used to be public properties. How do I know this? Well, I used to be one of them. I used to do many things, stealing and killing and maybe I should’ve been more concerned with my own lack of humanity but it all echoed when the men I was with started bringing new kinds of “prey”. Women, sometimes even children needed to earn their keep and protection, and when money is of no value anymore, there’s always a body to sell.
Anyway, my best quality has always been running, so I ran from them and never found another group. Since then, it’s only me and my van, and Bam. I’ve been moving around and never stayed in one place for too long. After all, it’s too dangerous to stay and attract any attention, whether from zombies, or people. There were a few that tried breaking into my vehicle before - bitten by Bam, and then finished by me. That’s how I learned to stay in the outskirts, have a few hidden spots in the woods with supplies, and even a few houses where I keep emergency stuff I don’t have a place for in my van.
During the fall, I become a drifter, hoarding everything I can get my hand on. During Spring, I become a farmer, planting whatever I can eat and staying in whatever middle-of-nowhere place I could find. I’m doing good for the most part. Better than those that are either dead or enslaved.
This time, it’s winter remembering spring - the first days of sunshine and nature slowly finding its way even after all the mess. The days have just started becoming longer, and I don’t know it at this point of my story, but my life’s going to change soon. What I also don’t know, is how to take care of a horse, and yet I find myself leading one to my temporary house. The van’s hidden, taken apart easily enough for me to find all of the necessary tools and run away if needed, and difficult for everyone else in case someone comes and decides to steal it. Bam’s in the house, sleeping on the couch or waiting for me by the door, and everything’s supposed to be fine, yet I can’t bring myself to be at peace. This year, I can feel something in my bones that has happened only once, and I wish to never feel it coming again. Change is approaching me, and I don’t know in which way or form, but encountering a world-changing pandemic while being fifteen leaves a person with an extraordinary sixth sense for any unusual events, and I just know something’s going to happen. Or maybe that’s just my paranoia regarding being alone and not seeing another human being for at least six months.
I bring the horse to the ranch and close it in one of the stables. There’s a fence all over the building, or rather a mansion, really, as it must’ve belonged to someone disgustingly rich and also worryingly protective of their own estate. It’s on the top of the hill, and if it weren’t for being far away from the road, hidden in a thick forest, it would probably be home to another gang.
Then, I go check on my crops once more, just to see whether they need anything for tomorrow, or mostly because I like working in the field; how the earth feels like under my fingertips, and how something can grow regardless of the state of the world, and how there’s nothing else out there more important than a plant that’s supposed to let me eat this year. Bam’s with me, always following me around and sometimes still learning not to be too playful when we’re outside. We can’t make noise on an open field if we don’t want to bring home a few zombies from the woods. Very hungry ones, to add, based on the fact that no human person would end up in this forest willingly. It was too thick and too unpredictable to just walk through it.
And then, while standing in the field, with the moon high in the sky, I see the first Crawler making its way towards the fence. He is a good sign. It means only one, maybe two, and it means no killing necessary. They move on all fours and resemble more a weird dog-like figure with sharp teeth, and extremely good hearing, than the actual person they used to be. A real problem would be a Screecher, I judge while taking Bam by his collar and leading us home. A Screecher always cries for the rest of the local zombies if it finds prey. They’re the ones creating hordes, and if you find yourself surrounded by them, it’s better to kill yourself than fight.
I enter the porch and let Bam inside before me. I look for any more of the Crawlers, yet there’s still only one, around at least two kilometres of field from us, and only after trying to see anything more dangerous in the dark, I also allow myself to come inside and lock the doors. The windows are already covered with wood but I did that a year ago when I found this place. Since then, nobody was there, or at least nobody left any trace of them. Still, I don’t use any form of lights, except for one candle on top of the chimney. I’m too afraid of being found to allow myself any luxury of the imitation of my previous life. I blow out the candle and slowly drag myself upstairs to wash myself and change clothing before locking the bedroom door and the three additional locks I installed and falling asleep with shoes on.
I never learned to take them off. My best quality is running, after all.
*
Something you learn during an apocalypse is hearing in your sleep. I know that Bam slept next to me until he decided to walk around the room, and finally found his new spot under the bed. I also know every noise that would instantly wake me up - there were too many occasions during which my survival depended on it. Like now, a noise of a lock breaking. Of shoes on the porch. Low whispers and I instantly know they’re human. I know it’s three of them, and I also know I’m outnumbered but I can’t leave Bam behind and escape through the window alone. He’s already waiting for me by the door, no bark whatsoever, just looking my way while I’m grabbing every hidden knife in the room. They’re going to search the whole place in a minute, and they’re going to realize someone’s here if they haven’t already based on the crops alone. I stand still, not even breathing, just trying to hear whether they’re coming upstairs. All of the valuable supplies I own are always by the door - just to buy me even a little time in case of an emergency like this but soon I can hear a groan, and I assume one of them is wounded, because right after I can hear a couch moving, and how they drop something heavy on it.
Whoever is downstairs, is either dying or bitten, and whatever human part of me wants to help them, this is also my chance at surviving. This gives me an advantage that I’ve not had before, and I think of a plan to kill all of them so I don’t have to abandon my place.
There are countless scenarios I make before going to bed. Every possible hiding place in the house, every escape route, every script including either me being found and neutralised, Bam being taken hostage, a zombie breaking in, or a group like this. I have this already figured out, but an additional bonus of someone wounded changes my perspective.
If the person is bitten, soon it’s going to start attacking the remaining two, and I will not have to face them at all. The worst case would be more people coming into the house but I look through the crack in the window and there are only two horses in front of the house. No car, no one waiting outside. I take a deep breath before I take my shoes off, and move quietly on the floor towards Bam. I put a finger to my lips as if he understands me, and then unlock all of the locks without making too much noise. I stand glued to the wall, Bam sitting near me and I thank every higher power for training him beforehand in situations like this because I know he won’t stand up without my command.
I decide to wait for one of them to start exploring the house, and it’s the longest half an hour of my life in which I wait to hear the footsteps upstairs after whatever wounds are disinfected with the products I kept in my drawer.
One of them stays with the wounded guy, I assume by the pitch of his voice while being taken care of, and the last person dares to go check the house. First, they enter the nearest room, which is a spare bedroom I don’t use. There’s not much stuff inside, so soon the person moves again, feet light, and enters my bedroom.
The door is opening, and I am ready, hidden behind them. I notice the back of a man, his only visible weapon being a bow. The horrendous choice for close combat, especially since I am also in the room, and so I decide to jump his way, pressing my knife into his neck and covering his lips.
“One word and you die,” I whisper, to which the man raises his hands to give me the impression of being defenceless. This can never be assumed, and while he doesn’t do anything suspicious, I don’t allow him to turn around. “I ask and you show me numbers on your fingers or move your head, understood?” To which the man nods.
I am about to ask the man how many of them are here, yet Bam comes without his command and jumps on the stranger to lick his face. Now, with me touching the back of the stranger, and Bam pressed to his torso, I am at a disadvantage. In shock, I push the stranger away, and he falls to the bed. I raise my weapon once again, and before I can move, Bam is jumping on the stranger to lick him again. I stand there, brows furrowed at the sight, of the man patting my dog like it didn’t take me a month of trying before the dog would allow me to even get near.
“We are good people.” He says, and his voice is deeper than I assumed. “And your dog likes me. We don’t want any problems.” He still whispers, even though now he can scream for help.
It’s only now I notice his destroyed clothes, and how there’s dry blood in multiple places, and I really hope it’s his.
“Jimin? Are you okay?” I hear a scream, still from downstairs and look at the man with murder.
“Yes! Just tripped over trash!”
“If you don’t want trouble, you will slowly stand up, be my hostage so I so go downstairs with you and leave. Only then no one gets killed.” I offer, to which he shakes his head. Bam moves, now lying on his thighs and closing his eyes like we’re not in grave danger. Like this situation hasn’t happened before and he didn’t bite into a guy’s neck before we escaped.
“Listen, I don’t know you, but you didn’t kill me on the spot so let me save you trouble. If Taehyung sees me being a hostage he will go for you without hesitation. He will kill you.” He admits with an expression so serious I believe him.
“Yeah, I don’t care as long as I go for him first-”
“Okay listen. We need that house for like a week until my friend gets better. We have our own supplies, and we can be out of your sight soon but this is the only place we can stay in like twenty kilometres radius-”
“That’s a touching story, really.” I interrupt him, taking Bam by the collar and still pointing a knife his way. “But it’s not my fucking problem.”
“Can’t you be a human? You are here alone anyway-”
“I’m a part of a big group that will come and see you, and will kill every one of you-” I threaten but he looks at me like I grew two heads or became a talking zombie.
“Okay, Jimin. I’m coming up!” We hear and I instantly turn around to go for the guy before he sees me but, again, Bam takes the lead and soon I witness a second face licking in front of me.
“Aw, what a good boy you are, and the pink collar-” He stops right in his tracks when he sees me, and that’s also when his whole expression changes. Now, me pointing a knife towards him, and he is trying to reach for a gun that will wake up every zombie in the said 20-kilometre radius. “And who are you and why shouldn’t I kill you?”
“Because you only have a gun, and before you go for it my knife will be already in your friend’s skull.”
Now, I’m outnumbered, I don’t know whether Jimin has any weapons on him and what are their intentions. I haven’t seen a human being for the past six months, and I don’t remember if I have ever seen anyone as beautiful as the guy who just entered the room. He must be Taehyung, and because I am threatened by his posture alone, not to mention the way his facial expression changes after my words, I take a step towards Jimin, trying to read the next moves.
Situations like these have also happened in the past. Being outnumbered, in a closed space, once without a weapon. And people always pretend to have good intentions but then Bam would bite them until they were bleeding out, and not licked. But maybe that’s why I find myself showing them where the stable is, so their horses can eat. Maybe I just slowly go insane from loneliness and don’t leave right away in a hurry, and maybe they are my change. And I don’t know yet that they are - that they’re going to change something within me that I never even knew existed and that soon, we will find a way around each other. Now, I only demand seeing the guy’s wounds, so I know the stranger bleeding on my couch is not going to turn, and I help them move him, Hoseok, to the spare bedroom.
Later on, before dawn, I sit on the porch. I should’ve killed them. I look over the fields, trying to see any zombies over the fence but there’s not even one Crawler in sight. Maybe he went somewhere else, or maybe a whole tragedy was supposed to arrive just after the three strange men broke into my house.
“You’re not a talkative one, huh?” I hear, drinking a terrible liquor I had hidden.
“Used to be.”
“I used to be many things in life, never thought I would live through the apocalypse too,” Taehyung sighs, sitting on the staircase right next to me. “We have to trust each other, right? But the thing is, I don’t trust you for shit, so I’m going to threaten you instead. You’re one weird motherfucker, and if it wasn’t for Jimin I would’ve killed you in that room without any questions asked. So let’s be all good, and I won’t have to get rid of you.” He looks me right in the eye, and yet somehow I don’t feel like he really means it.
Instead of replying, I pour another drink into my empty cup and give it to him after taking a sip myself. He wrinkles his nose after sniffing and chugs the whole thing. I also don’t trust him one bit, and that’s because I can’t read him well. Usually, people would somehow betray themselves and show their true colours, but his face tells me nothing. No emotion, no pain, nothing. Only sometimes, when he looks my way, his gaze lingers a little too long, even when I catch him. I can’t say if he’s being serious, or what has he been through to be like this. Nevertheless, people like him always end up killing, and I wasn’t going to be one of his victims. I survived the outbreak, I’m not going to give up on a pretty face.
We sit like this, completely silent, until both of us are pretty drunk. Only then, when his cheeks are red and the flush starts to spread on his ears too, he allows himself to break a smile in my direction.
“Will no one come for you?” I ask, wondering about my death again.
“No one alive, that is.” He sighs again, taking another sip. At this point, we’re drinking straight from the bottle. “I’ve killed most of them, the rest probably turned.” His voice is deliberate, just as everything else he does.
“And the injury? Hoseok?”
“I really try to protect them both, you know?” This time, there’s something tender in the back of his throat. Like a layer of him peeled off, and no god would know how much I liked his voice like this. “I really tried my best. Didn’t succeed, as most of the time…”
There’s another silence starting to linger around us, and I can’t bring myself to talk. I haven’t talked with anyone other than Bam for so long, that I almost forgot people actually reply to your questions.
“Anway. The house. How did you find it? I used to live in a similar one during year two. A sanctuary created to save whatever people left that came looking for help. Ended up pretty badly, though.”
“I move a lot. Explore the outskirts, don’t get near any big cities.” I haven’t told him about the truck or other houses, I can’t shake the feeling I’m telling him too much already. I close my mouth about the supplies, about this house being my favourite one because I won’t come back here when they already know it exists. I can’t let a situation like this happen again, or let them take every last of my supplies.
“I was in Seoul last year. Needed to get medicine for Yoongi, and there was none in our area. Now, I don’t even know if he’s alive, but the point is, the city’s full of them. Crawlers, Screechers, all of them. And gangs. They cut off the zombies’ arms and jaws, and treat them like a living fence.” He finishes whatever alcohol was left, and puts it behind. “Fucked up motherfuckers. But we should probably go in, hm?”
“I’ll stay a little longer. You go ahead.”
He, again, lingers his eyes on me like he’s trying to remember me. From the top of my head, all the way, scrutinizing my calves until it becomes awkward and I stay silent a little too much. Only then, he weaves to me and leaves, stomping his feet in a drunk manner. This reminds me of myself from before, how a few months before the End I went out with my friends to a party and ended up so drunk they had to drag me all the way home. I could barely walk that night, and still, I remember most of it more clearly than the End itself.
So I sit like this, in silence again, and when I come in, there’s Taehyung sleeping on the couch with Bam in his arms. Upstairs, there’s unconscious Hoseok with Jimin holding his hand, and somehow I still end up locking all three locks on my bedroom. This time, I also sleep with my shoes on and hear footsteps in front of my doors. One of them stays there for a little longer than they should, contemplating, and I grab a knife from under my pillow before they decide to retreat.
In the morning, I open my doors to Jimin and Taehyung cleaning around the house. They must’ve found the cleaning supplies and all of the dust gathered over the year of my absence is gone. Suddenly, even the floor stained with Hoseok’s blood is clean. I’ve never seen any living space kept clean after the outbreak. Mostly, because anything out of the ordinary attracts attention, and if someone else knew a living person was inside, they would most likely assume supplies were also here somewhere. I’m not planning on ever going back. Honestly, I’m thinking about burning the whole house after summer, so I say nothing about their little activity. I don’t participate in it, and I only mumble a “good morning” while passing them. I know well, that sometimes you need to take your mind off things, mostly Hoseok still being unconscious and wounded, and whatever they’ve been through before, so I just grab my stuff and go to the field. I finish only before dawn, and then I crave food.
There is a lot of food that expired and no longer could sustain people, even the canned goods that people were killing each other for during the first few years. Sadly, during the tenth year, most of the foods were no longer edible. Of course, you could still steal protein bars, or hunt animals and dry the meat. My idea is the crops, occasional fishing by the nearby creek, and by the end of summer, the horse I found. Here, I still have dry products such as rice or jars I made last year. I’m thinking about getting one of them before I enter the house and notice a table with dinner on it. I check my pulse, whether it’s a dream or maybe I’m hallucinating, and then Jimin comes to me and invites me to the table.
“We used your medicine, and Taehyung drank a fair portion of your alcohol, so we want to pay you back.” He beams, presenting me with their food. “It’s not poisoned, and there’s something you won’t believe. We have honey from a farm we visited a few years ago.”
Honey is one of the products people kill for today. It’s timeless because it’s the only one that doesn’t expire, and doesn’t lose taste even as years pass. It’s also extremely hard to get because most of them were taken from stores way back.
“I don’t remember the last time I had honey.”
“Well, I don’t remember the last time a stranger helped me save the life of my friend, yet here we are, in your house.”
I don’t think I’ve helped them but I don’t say it out loud. When a human is set to survive, nobody’s willing to help. Most of the time the supplies are limited, especially medicine. I hide them in many spots, carry the painkillers everywhere I go and take them only when necessary. There were doctors, a lot of them, before the outbreak. Died first, and the ones that survived became protected by gangs or bigger groups wandering around. But then again, no one helps without expecting something in return, and perhaps that is why they are offering me honey as redemption.
“It’s been tough for us, the last few months. We had to run most of the time, and then Hoseok happened. A dinner like this helps, cleaning, getting your mind off whatever reality we find ourselves in.” Jimin’s eyes glitter, the candle put on the table puts some light on his face and I notice his hollow cheeks. He’s not one of the men, buff and wide, instead, his shoulders are slumped, and he looks tired. He got rid of the blood from his body but there are probably scars under his clothing, some of them in his mind. “What I’m trying to say is, you are a friend. And I thank you but I’ve never even asked about your name. What is it?”
When the zombies are scattered over the Earth, when every day is a struggle to survive, most leave out any details about themselves. I never ask for names or ages, mostly because as long as you don’t know, you can’t get attached. I feel like I’m signing a contract by confessing my name. I consider lying, only for a second, before I look at Taehyung and he’s looking at me, eyes wary. I know he’s the fighter in their team, he’s the one who protects. He barely touches the chair, like he’s always ready, on high alert, like there’s danger everywhere and he hasn’t made peace with it yet. Like he still believes he can save them all. Suddenly, it becomes clear that all three of us are not used to this situation. To people, outsiders trying to start a conversation.
“Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook.” I admit, slowly noticing more details on Taehyung’s face. The scar, hiding behind his hair, high on the forehead. Sharp jawline, quick reflexes. I look at him like people used to look at paintings, as if I’m enchanted, in awe, and want to figure him out. I scrutinize his face as if he’s the one to approve my name.
“Thank you, Jungkook.” Jimin smiles, and I force myself to smile back.
*
On the third day, questions start. Now, they know my name, and ultimately want to know more than the mere fact of moving around, and that I’m alone and have been for the most part. Jimin treats me like I’m a part of them; he tells me about Hoseok, that he still hasn’t woken up, that he was stabbed, that they met the wrong people at the wrong time and almost died. Hoseok is like hope to us , he adds. If he’s unwell, we all are. He’s the anchor. And every time he speaks, Taehyung is near, looking at me and waiting. He’s listening, and I know he’s doing that to judge whether I’m what he thinks I am. Because if I turn out that way, he’ll have to protect them. I catch a glimpse of it in his posture, the way he straightens up every time I enter the room he's in. The way he squints his eyes when I do something he doesn't expect; how he still carries his weapons in plain sight and hopes he's reminding me to behave well. He is a man who is forever on guard and will never trust me. And he probably shouldn't, because trust implies attachment, which is already Jimin's mistake.
For some reason, unfortunately, Taehyung decides to give me the benefit of the doubt. He says no more about what he thinks of me. He does not sit down with me on the stairs and does not opt to drink, instead, he decides to join me in the field. I stroll over to see if anything has been damaged; if any zombies have decided to try and get through the fence, and if any Screechers are prowling the area. Again, I remain silent, and he remains silent too.
Jimin stays with Hoseok, wishing he would finally wake up. Bam’s with them, and I like the fact he’s not alone in the house. I never allow him to join me when it can be dangerous, even if it’s just a walk. Some days I still find myself wishing for a cure - pretending there’s some sort of laboratory still working on it, that there are people with faith in science. Then, I wish I could play with Bam outside, throw a stick and not be afraid something somewhere is going to hear him being happy.
“Three Crawlers. Northern fence.” I announce, and Taehyung automatically grabs his knife. If it’s only one, then there’s no need to go for him, but three make the possibility of noise, of attention. We walk closer, enough to be able to shoot them with my bow, and not enough for them to detect us. They mostly depend on hearing, their own odour of rotten flesh too strong to smell.
I shoot them, one by one, straight in the head and soon they lie on the ground, as lifeless as they were before. We need to move the bodies away from the fence, so others can’t use them to try climbing it. As we approach, and I take my first arrow out of the dead zombie, a Screecher goes out of the forest, towards us.
I look at Taehyung, his eyes already on me, a pointing finger on his lips as if to remind me to stay quiet. I stand still, not even thinking of escaping. One broken branch under my foot and the Screecher will launch forward, crying for the rest of the monsters to help him get me. It moves forward, and pretends to look around even though this one doesn’t have eyes anymore. From this distance, I can clearly see its burned skin, almost no clothes whatsoever. Encounters like these remind me there’s no such thing as being human in that state. Whoever thinks otherwise, and that was mostly the case during the first few years, is a hopeless optimist and that kind doesn’t tend to live too long.
The Screecher marches towards Taehyung, and I hold my breath. I suddenly discover an urge - I want to help Taehyung. I want to save him. The thing is, saving people requires being able to sacrifice your own life, and in this case one wrong move can cost me death or worse, being eaten alive by the whole horde of them. I stand about fifty meters from them, the Screecher now about three steps away from being face-to-face with Taehyung. The man sends me a look, not daring to move his whole face towards me. Why would I do anything? I’ve known this man for three days during which we exchanged only sour words. I find myself thinking of meeting him sooner, of knowing him before the End. It’s unconscious, now, in the moment of danger, I picture him in my life. I’m lonely and even one human, just someone who broke into my house with a wounded friend, becomes someone I fantasize about.
Slowly, I take an arrow and start aiming. There’s no chance of missing from this distance, so I shoot an arrow landing right in the zombie’s ear. It drops on the ground, makes no cry or other sound and I can breathe again. I look for any more of them, and when I consider the area clear, I nod towards Taehyung who starts moving.
“Why did you help me?” He asks once we’ve jumped through the fence again, walking through the fields after checking the rest of the places. “If it came closer, I’d have had it. You didn’t have to risk it.”
“I know. Still, it’s shitty to just stand and do nothing.”
“I still don’t trust you.”
“I know.”
“Even though your aim is good.”
“Oh.”
This way, we build some kind of unspoken act of feigning ignorance. We don’t speak about it anymore and pretend like nothing has happened. Still, while sitting outside, porch covered in the last rays of the sun, I think about him as a student. As a son. As a friend, as someone I met in middle school and lived on one street with. I wonder what kind of child he was, and then I become curious about how old he was when the world ended. In my mind, he was safe, probably home. Maybe outside a big city, somewhere he could hide and not see the tragedy of Seoul. Now, I start wishing I knew more, and thus distance myself.
“Thank you. I know that’s the only thing I’ve been saying, but thank you.”
I don’t need to hear Jimin’s voice to know it’s him. I can already recognize the difference in their footsteps. Jimin’s are lighter. He’s moving as if his steps are part of an old dance I never got to learn.
“I heard what you did today,” He continues when I don’t turn around, he sits next to me. “And I believe you’re not what you claim to be.”
“I was about to kill you the first time I saw you.”
“And you didn’t. Instead, you saved my friend two times already. And when that happens, and it doesn’t happen very often, you regain faith. I mean, I never believed in anything, wasn’t religious. It’s more about humanity, society.”
“You’re delusional, not faithful,” I smirk but there’s something sour in my mouth.
Jimin must see that because he speaks again.
“You’re a good man, Jungkook.”
“Because I’ve killed people claiming otherwise.” A silence. He’s looking at me again, I can feel his gaze on me. He’s debating his next words, a reply suitable for the conversation, something worthy of our encounter. Jimin’s one of the brave types, though he’s no warrior. And he’s fearless, otherwise, he wouldn’t say the next words.
“You should join us after this.”
“Don’t say that.”
“It’s true! Hoseok's going to accept you, I already like you, Taehyung-”
“Taehyung wants me gone and so do I.”
“Taehyung’s just protective, he’s been through more than most of us. He’s seen more than us.”
“Then maybe you should believe him when he says I’m trouble.”
He stops himself before saying anything else, covering his mouth with his hand. Jimin seems older now, shoulders straight, serious face. Whatever he’s done, it did not leave a print on his heart. Instead, it’s hidden behind his eyes, a brow furrowed more than it should. A permanent worry, something similar to pity forming on his face.
He’s not like me, so he lets me change the subject. He won’t press where it hurts and maybe it’s more of a weakness than bravery.
“Where were you, when it Ended?”
“In my grandparents’ house. In the countryside. My parents, well, they wanted to go back for my sister who stayed home, but never got the chance.”
“I’m sorry.”
“But I’m alive. It’s been ten years and I’m alive. They all died and I survived, isn’t this a little unfair? I ask myself that often these days. The thing is, I want to live so badly I don’t know anything more. I want to be alive, and I want to survive. It’s not bravery; I have no choice. And so did Taehyung when we met.”
All I know is running, and suddenly I want to know more. The secret of survival, of being alive.
“How did you meet?” I catch myself saying; words leaving my lips before I could seal them, swallow down my throat and forget about them.
How dangerous is it to know people? To wake up to a human being, to get used to the idea of people instead of monsters? Human activity, a footprint of understanding, a proof of love existing within the walls of this house I promised to burn.
I think of them from before, of their childhood, maybe teenage years passing too soon. And then it brings me to thinking about myself, alone, and the blood on my hands from that day. All I see is red before my eyes, and I almost thank Jimin for continuing before I can scream.
“I knew him from primary school before we got separated. Then, I met him after the End. He was a part of a group, of nasty people, trying to form a society after the collapse of everything.” He shares, deep in thought before he continues. A gulp, a plea for air. “And I envied him because he understood something before I could wrap my head around it. He knew what it took to survive, and how to live despite everything. This is what he taught me.”
“To live?”
“He taught me love before and after. He showed me love despite, love preserving, love always.”
“How?”
“He’s someone I’m bound to. Wherever he goes I follow. Whatever he does I do. He’s my family, my soulmate.” He laughs, a dry smirk showing. “He’s who I picked in this life. I choose him every day.”
Jimin says nothing more but I understand because tonight, after locking myself and laying with shoes on, I hear footsteps again. This time, I open without fear and he’s here. Hidden in darkness, something shaped in worry on his face, as if he’s not sure of anything.
I just need him to tell me, to say words he knows and taught Jimin about, and words he will show me in the future, words I know nothing of, but soon, he’ll become a definition of.
He slips past me and enters my room. Bam’s in Hoseok's room, and I think of words again. When did it become Hoseok’s room? Is it his? How does owning work when the world is over? I think of the unconscious man, of pain, of blood again.
Taehyung says nothing as he sits on my bed. Only his eyes tell me the secret he wishes to share, a secret nobody yet knows about.
I say his name and it’s like a prayer before closing the door, like fate intertwining, like a plea to a god no longer listening. And he answers, Taehyung, whispering.
“We have to trust each other, right?” He repeats from a day before. “So why won’t you come closer?”
He touches me and I almost forget to be scared. Hands on my waist, moving towards my hips, and I let him. I want to say I don’t remember , and how long has it been , and to be gentle , and he’s just holding me, looking straight into my eyes. And that’s all we do - me standing in front of him in silence, unsure and unknown, a stranger to be wary of. He, holding me together instead of ripping me into pieces. Anything wrong is resolved, and I’m bound. Wherever he goes I follow, whatever he does I do.
It’s a simple touch I’ve been deprived of. A chill running down my spine from the possibility of it being more. This time I imagine him as he is; broad shoulders and hair still wet from washing them. Everything’s the same except it’s not the end of the world - there’s nothing to be afraid of, and if it is, it’s taxes. Nothing hides in this forest, nothing can scream to kill you and bring others its kind.
I don’t allow myself to touch him as well, at least right away. I’m scared I’ll get used to it, to being able to straighten my arm and find him near, to feel his skin under my fingertips. I inhale, almost shaking, before reaching for his hair, slowly moving to his nape.
I say his name again, this time a warning, a check before collapsing into his arms. And we stay like this. And I sleep with my shoes on and with a man in my embrace. With a human instead of a ghost. With him instead of a monster. I never notice the door unlocked. Instead, in the morning, he’s by my side. We are not intertwined, and I still hold my breath from the close proximity. For a second, I wonder how was I able to sleep at all, and then I notice I was not haunted by nightmares. The pain in my back disappeared, and maybe I slept that well for the first time in months, if not years. It’s early in the morning, I assume after not seeing light breaking in between the wooden planks. He’s turned towards me or maybe I’m turned, and I do nothing except looking at him and imagining again how would it be to reach for him. Of course, I do nothing, and leave the room before he wakes up. Before Jimin can notice we’re both in the same room. Before Bam can start whining about needing to go outside. Before Taehyung can say something, anything, before he can even look my way and remember me, remember yesterday.
I go outside to the crops, and spend the entire day in the field, watering the ground, going around the fence. There are a few of them, monsters, but not close enough to the house, to Taehyung. When this thought crosses my mind, I come back to the crops and take a nap on the porch. Nobody’s coming to me - Jimin is probably still beside Hoseok, waiting for him to wake up and then he does. I hear a cry, a weeping of joy and calling Taehyung’s name. I don’t go inside, deciding to give them a moment on their own. Too afraid of another person entering my life, fearing for their health, staying by his bed like the rest. Only at night, after going back upstairs, I look towards their doors, and they’re wide open. Jimin’s telling me to come in, and I notice a man lying in bed, conscious.
“He’s the one?” a raspy voice, a weak smile shaped into a heart.
“Jeon Jungkook.” I introduce myself defeated, sitting on a bed beside him. Somehow I know I will love him.
“Where’s Yoongi?”
Jimin’s face is blank. A silence too long.
“You said he was with Jungkook. Where’s he?” Hoseok tries sitting down, and two things happen at the same time. I notice I’ve been lied to and Hoseok starts crying.
“He’s safe. He escaped with Namjoon and Seokjin…”
“You don’t know if he’s safe! You can’t promise it, and we need to move, we need to go-”
“Hoseok…”
“I can go, we leave in the morning, we-” There are too many tears to form a sentence.
I decide to stand up and leave, not sure what to do or say. There are more of them, at least three that could’ve followed them here and brought danger. Maybe they’re already on their way, maybe whoever Yoongi is, he will come and destroy this house. Or worse - and that’s a thought making me lock my doors again - he will come and bring me peace.
So I start packing my bags, thinking about all of the hidden things in this house, about the basement none of them knows about. There are still noises behind the closed doors - mostly cries, calling for Yoongi and his safety, and I need to remind myself how the best I can do is run. It’s night, and it’s raining, but fixing the van will take me only about an hour. I think about the horse I found, and I wonder whether it was theirs, maybe Yoongi’s. I’m thinking about how to take Bam unnoticed.
I hear my name just when I’m about to unlock the window and throw my stuff on the ground behind the house.
That’s the thing with names. When you spend so much time wanting to survive, you become accustomed to the idea of being the only one in the whole wide world. Perhaps, if I gave a fake name. if I decided to run away a long time ago, I wouldn’t stop in my tracks. And before I swallow down the lump in my throat, I imagine Taehyung as my friend. As someone with a big smile plastered, a hand always extended. He’s telling me sour words and then slowly changes, and there’s honey on the table and he comes to my room at night, and if I refused them before, if I’d killed them, I wouldn’t have suffered the consequences of being known.
The truth is, my name in his mouth feels like the world hasn’t ended at all. So I turn towards the door.
“What?”
“Can I come in?”
I look towards the open window. Towards the stuff packed in bags.
“No.”
“Jungkook…”
The truth is, it would break my heart to never hear it again so I open the door and look at the man standing in front of me. I was always looking in his direction. At the beginning for my own safety, then out of curiosity. This time, however, I see him for the first time as someone who could be closest to me. Someone who had the chance to stop me - or rather who had already done so, because for some reason I decided to turn on my heel and open the door for him. To open myself to the slightest chance that, despite the end of the world, I might not be alone.
“Are you going to leave?”
“It’s too dangerous. I don’t know you, and I don’t know how many people- Who is Yoongi?”
“You’re a good man, Jungkook.” He repeats what Jimin’s said the other day and it doesn’t feel sincere. That’s not something he would say to me, at least not now.
“You lied to me. You said no one would come looking for you and I-” I take a breath. “I trusted you .”
“ I didn’t lie. No one’s going to look for us. No one bad, that is, but Yoongi’s a part of us-”
“You think I’d believe a word you say now?”
“I can just kill you now and take the supplies for ourselves.” He says and it wakes something within me. A cry wants to escape my mouth. “But I would never do that because instead, I am standing in the corridor like an idiot, talking to you. My friend’s woken up for the first time since we came here and I’m with you. I don’t want you to leave because-” A huff. “Just because.”
“And your just because is supposed to make me stay? You can try to kill me now.”
“I’ve seen you holding Hoseok’s hand when he was still unconscious. You can’t fool me that you don’t care.”
I can still run, I think to myself before I look at him again. And I regret it because now I see a man who can't let me go. Who wants me to stay and reconcile. I don't know how to get rid of the feeling blooming in my chest. How to resign from something I’ve silently wished for or wished against? How to refrain from someone trying to pull me in?
“You don't know me,” I whisper after a while, not facing him anymore because even I know it's a lie. “You wanted me to disappear since the beginning so why won't you let me?”
I may be testing him. I'm giving him a chance to say to me what I want to hear or see, whether he understands the game he plays. If anything Jimin’s told me about him is true, then from all people he should know the weight of his words.
“You've saved my life, Jungkook.” He murmurs, lips parting before taking a breath to continue. “I- there’s no good way to say this,”
“But I need you to say it.”
“I want you to stay.”
He takes a step forward and I take a step back. The house is quiet and perhaps too quiet because a moment ago we could still hear Hoseok’s weeping. I give him one look and he already knows; a language we somehow became familiar with, and we both start walking towards the other bedroom.
Inside, Jimin and Hoseok are looking through a hole in the wood covering the windows. Nobody says a word but I already know what it is. This scenario has happened too many times to feign ignorance.
“Nine crawlers. We’re trying to look for a Screecher.”
“Distance?”
“One hundred meters. We must’ve made too much noise during the day.”
Looking at their faces, I know they understand the risk. Nine crawlers inside of the fence, near this house means being outnumbered. If it's more than four, they're probably a hoard. If there’s a Screecher outside, they will take an interest in the house soon enough. Especially since we were just arguing and noise peaks their attention like a moth to a flame.
Taehyung’s lips are in a thin line and he’s thinking about fighting. About the possibility of making it to the daylight during which they will be at a disadvantage. A rotten corpse doesn't like hot temperatures and a chilly night like this one only fuels them to roam the fields. They’re hungry since there are not many people around and are drawn to light, to noise, to the evidence of life.
“Stay put,” I whisper and everyone turns to me but the command is towards Bam who now sits still. I trained him, especially for moments like this. He knows to run away if they get too close.
“We can stay in this room. Even if they want to get into the house, we can take them from the staircase-”
“We can wait it out in the basement.” I offer before I think about it.
A moment ago I wanted to escape. To leave them and pretend I wouldn’t care about whatever happens to any of them. I feel empathy towards people I barely know, and I can’t ignore Jimin’s gaze upon me. I can’t look away from Hoseok’s red eyes. And now I’m telling them about the secret of this house. Of mine.
“Basement?” Jimin asks and everybody looks my way again.
This house doesn't have any stairs leading downstairs. It's an entrance hidden on the floor that I stumbled upon while staying here for the first time. This bunker is my biggest secret. I keep there my life and whatever I consider important. I don't want to let them in and I wasn't thinking of showing them this place but now it's about survival. We have no chance against nine hungry Crawlers and the possibility of a Screecher being nearby. Even if I go on the roof and try shooting them, it’s too dark and too risky to miss. If we wait it out inside of the basement, they may get inside but they won't find anything worth staying for.
I think of the open window I was supposed to run away through, and how I would’ve left them to die. Something inside of me flips.
The crawlers are probably going to get to the horses first. That gives us time to move and gather whatever might be essential from the house. We make a plan and soon enough Taehyung’s carrying Hoseok down the stairs. I close the window in my room, noticing the zombies slowly getting closer to us.
Bam follows me with his eyes and I wonder if he can feel it too. The adrenaline rushing through all of us. The seriousness of this all. Once I join them in the kitchen, we gather supplies and flashlights. Nobody says a word as if any unnecessary noise could cause death. As if the crawler was just outside, waiting for our wrong move. How did they break the fence? Perhaps they were chasing an animal and ended up here? Or they really heard us from the woods, the disease making them look for food elsewhere.
When the media tried to conceal the first-turned-person, the video of a man jumping on the nearest passerby went viral a little too quickly. I’ve seen it. Everybody’s seen it. Especially since they closed schools right away. Nobody could leave the house and the streets were being patrolled. We knew it was serious because it was the army, not the police, trying the keep everybody inside. It all went down after a month. At least here. In America, it was five days.
And so we go down to the basement.