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Zombie Outbreak Day 1.

I killed a person before a zombie.

***

It was around the 3rd week since I locked myself in my room. Dreaming of becoming a movie scenario writer, I was immersed in a scenario contest.

With the contest deadline approaching, I was furiously typing on my keyboard, cutting back on sleep, when I heard noise outside and irritably approached the window.

My tired face briefly reflected in the old, cloudy window of the decrepit villa, and beyond the creaking window, I saw a dimly lit alley.

Students in uniforms rushing by.

“Hey! What’s wrong with you? Snap out of it!”

“What are you doing? Trying to act like a zombie?”

I glared at the students quietly. They were shouting, laughing, and making a ruckus.

‘This noise is driving me crazy.’

Already stressed from writing the scenario and sleep-deprived, the noise was unbearably annoying.

But I didn’t shout back. I felt like I’d lose if I fought. Kids these days are scary.

Instead of protesting, I sipped coffee while watching the students. Maybe it would help with my scenario.

I was writing a zombie apocalypse scenario, and the students gave me an idea.

“Grrr.”

A student drooling and flailing their arms. Clenching their teeth, trying to grab and bite another student. Drool dripping from their mouth.

‘Are they joking? Or is it rabies?’

It looked like a zombie, but I didn’t think it was real. Zombies? In this day and age?

The students seemed to think the same. They laughed and tapped the sick student.

“This kid’s turning into a zombie!”

“…No, hey. I think they’re really sick.”

Some joked, others took it seriously.

I sipped my coffee and thought.

‘Maybe tweak the opening scene a bit. Like these students.’

A peaceful moment passed. The students played, and I got ideas.

But peace shattered in an instant.

“Gaaaah!”

The next moment, the sick student lunged at another student. They wrapped their arms around the neck and bit into the face. The sound of flesh tearing reached my 4th floor, and blood splattered.

“Ahhh!”

A piercing scream echoed. The students scattered like locusts. Some tried to pull the sick student away.

“Are you crazy? Hey! Hey! Grab them!”

“Uh, uh!”

“Blood! Blood!”

I tapped the windowsill and then slammed the window shut. I’d seen enough.

“Must be rabies.”

Anyway, I got a good idea. I quickly sat at my computer and typed furiously.

Then, my phone started ringing loudly.

Beep! Beep! Beep!

Emergency disaster alerts.

Not just one. The local government, city hall, and national alerts came in succession.

I stared blankly at my phone.

[Unrest reported. Citizens, please…]

[Unidentified virus transmission confirmed. Please refrain from going out, wear masks, wash hands, and follow disease prevention guidelines.]

[Nationwide virus spread. TV and radio…]

My head spun. It wasn’t spam. I’d never heard of spam disaster alerts.

“TV, TV.”

With trembling hands, I turned on the TV. An emergency broadcast was on. The announcer was speaking urgently, but I couldn’t hear. The only clear image was people attacking others.

Roaring, biting infected people. The vivid footage.

“…Real zombies?”

They were real zombies. I remembered the student I saw earlier. The student who got bitten.

This place is ground zero for zombies.

Countless thoughts flashed through my mind. Zombie apocalypse, scenario, contest, my research, action plans.

I jumped up. It wasn’t time to sit still. I had to act. Take appropriate action.

“Pot, water, shampoo.”

I rubbed my tired head, mixed water and shampoo in a large pot, and went out.

***

While writing a zombie apocalypse scenario, I had a thought.

A mere zombie couldn’t bring about an apocalypse.

– Zombies? In this day and age? The military would wipe them out. Drones, tanks, fighter jets, biochemical weapons. A single shot would kill them.

In this modern age of science and technology, simple zombies couldn’t destroy civilization. With countless weapons and a society hardened by COVID-19.

And that thought remained unchanged even after the zombie outbreak.

‘Just hold out for two weeks, and the government will handle it.’

I just needed to protect my home. The government would respond in that time.

I had enough food and water for two weeks.

I hurriedly ran down the old stairs.

“No elevator anyway. Just block the stairs.”

The 4th-floor villa I lived in was old. No elevator, just stairs. Blocking the stairs would keep zombies out.

I poured soapy water on the stairs from the 1st floor, refilled, and poured on the 2nd floor.

‘Zombies are people too. If they keep slipping and falling, they’ll break bones and die.’

And those dead zombies would form a natural barricade, making it hard to reach my 4th floor.

The old villa stairs smelled strongly of shampoo.

Sweating profusely, I poured soapy water on all stairs up to the 3rd floor. Out of breath from going up and down.

“Just two weeks, hold on.”

I muttered as if making a vow. Maybe this outbreak would make my zombie scenario win the contest.

Dreaming of hope, I filled the pot with soapy water and was about to pour it on the stairs to my 4th floor when…

Crash!

A sound of someone falling and screaming came from below.

“Yeon-seo!”

A man’s desperate cry. I peeked through the railing, wondering if it was a zombie. And I saw.

A dead person on the lower floor.

Not a zombie, but a person.

***

I stared wide-eyed below. My body stiffened.

“Yeon-seo! Yeon-seo!”

A young couple from the 3rd floor had fallen. The woman I occasionally greeted had broken her neck. The man slapped her cheeks, then looked around with bloodshot eyes.

Our eyes met through the narrow railing.

His eyes moved to the pot. I looked at the pot too.

A pot full of soapy water, bubbles rising. Clear evidence of my crime.

“Uh….”

A drop of water fell from the pot onto the man’s face. He opened his mouth.

“You! You did this! You killed Yeon-seo!”

“Me…?”

My thoughts froze. The image of the neighbor woman with a broken neck burned into my eyes. My hands trembled. Murder? Me? The soapy water soaked my hands, chilling them. My body temperature seemed to drop.

‘Am I a murderer? What about the scenario contest? My scenario? What happens to me? Prison?’

Dizziness hit me. Even seeing zombies didn’t do this. It felt like the world was collapsing.

But I didn’t have time to despair. The world didn’t give me that luxury.

The man gritted his teeth, grabbed the railing, and climbed up like a beast. His clenched fist had veins popping.

His mouth opened, and a roar came out.

“You, you killed Yeon-seo!”

His voice echoed. Time seemed to slow. His twisted face, flying spit, dynamic movements, and pulled-back fist were in slow motion.

I couldn’t think. My hand just moved.

Whoosh!

I threw the pot full of soapy water. It flew through the air, splashing soapy water, and hit the man’s head.

Thud!

“Ah!”

The man, drenched in soapy water, closed his eyes. He lost balance, fell backward, and tumbled down the stairs. His head hit the railing, the stair edge, and his neck snapped under his weight.

He died. Or was dying. He exhaled a strange breath, his hand reaching out like playing a piano. A fatal injury.

“….”

It felt like a dream. None of this seemed real. I slumped down. The fragrant shampoo smell and the stark corpses. Shampoo bubbles flowed and popped.

Suddenly, reality hit.

“I’m screwed….”

Murder. Not zombies, but killing people. A crime. My life, though not great, was running towards the dream of being a scenario writer. Now it’s over.

My hands trembled uncontrollably. My body convulsed. The sound of my teeth chattering echoed in my ears.

‘What do I do? Turn myself in? No, no. It’s a zombie apocalypse.’

My anxiety stopped. A scenario quickly unfolded in my mind.

‘1. Pretend not to know. They’ll be busy with zombies.’

Zombies have appeared. The police and administration will be paralyzed. No, wait. The zombie situation will calm down. Eventually, an investigation will catch me.

‘2. Turn myself in.’

Should I turn myself in for a reduced sentence? No, that won’t work either. I killed two people. The man’s death was almost intentional.

I tapped my knees and continued writing the scenario. The theme: zombie apocalypse, murder, perfect crime. Suddenly, my fingers stopped. A strange thought crossed my mind.

I rolled my eyes and looked at the corpses. A low murmur escaped.

“Option 3. Zombies.”

If I infect the man and the woman below with the zombie virus. At least, I won’t be suspected of murder.

There’s no CCTV in this old villa anyway.

But as always, reality isn’t easy.

Ding-dong!

The sound of a door opening behind me. I quickly turned my head. Can’t get caught at the crime scene.

My neighbor, a college student, peeked out cautiously with a phone in hand. Only two homes per floor, so the central staircase landing is visible from the entrance. Our eyes met.

“Mu-mu-murder!”

The college student screamed upon seeing the man’s corpse. She quickly raised her phone, likely to call 112.

I quickly got up, grabbed the railing, and ran up the stairs. I tried to sound as friendly as possible.

“Wait! It’s not what you think, absolutely not!”

“Ahhh!”

The woman looked at me with terrified eyes. Then, she slammed the door shut. I reached the door a beat late.

Bang bang bang, I pounded on the door and shouted at the top of my lungs.

“That was a zombie! In times like these, neighbors should stick together! How much food do you have? Hey! Open the door! Open it! The police are too busy to answer calls anyway!”

I blurted out without thinking. Then, I heard the sound of locks clicking, not the electronic door lock.

I slammed the door hard and leaned my head against it. The cold door temperature touched my cheek, and I heard the college student sobbing and speaking.

“Police? There’s a murderer at my door! Please come quickly!”

She must have gotten through to the police. One word came to mind.

I’m screwed.

Totally screwed.

***

Click, handcuffs snapped on my wrists. My face reflected in the shiny cuffs. My unwashed, messy hair. A mask covering my unkempt beard. My hollow face.

A burly detective sighed and spoke.

“Miranda rights. You’re under arrest for murder. You have the right to an attorney, and—”

I didn’t hear the rest. I slumped like a person whose world had collapsed. Two detectives held my sides and carefully led me down the stairs.

One detective, who almost slipped earlier, grumbled.

“Who pours this stuff on stairs where people walk?”

“Zombies, zombies.”

I muttered weakly. The detective holding me clicked his tongue and roughly pulled me along.

“Zombies? They’re just virus-infected patients. Killing them is still murder, buddy.”

He was right. The world was still intact.

As we left the villa, I saw an ambulance and a student zombie tied to a stretcher. The zombie, tightly bound with rope, thrashed violently. Paramedics treated a student with a torn face. And two corpses being handled.

I hung my head low.

Zombie Outbreak Day 1.

I, aspiring scenario writer Kim Da-in, killed a person before a zombie. Society remained intact, and I, a murderer, was locked in a cell.

 

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