The Little Prince in the Ossuary-Chapter 119 : April Vengeance (8)

April Vengeance (8)

The hinge fell off. The ominous clatter of metal hitting the floor. The remaining ones weren't in good shape either. With every impact, they creaked sharply. A loose screw stuck its head out. It crawled out on its own.

This is a crisis... Has the explosion not happened yet? While hesitating, the boy noticed the electrical panel nearby. A vague inspiration arose. Looking back, the locker room was a sealed space. Could it be possible?

Kuung! Gyeo-ul cautiously backed away from the trembling door. It should hold for a little while.

The electrical panel was locked. He smashed the lock with his pistol. Then he opened the panel and cut off all power to the room. The space fell into blackout. Since it was a locker room, there wasn't even a single window.

'The ventilator must have stopped, too.'

Gyeo-ul put on his night vision goggles and held a smoke grenade in one hand. The pin was already pulled. He could let go at any time. But releasing it too soon would be trouble. The sick and starving things had to come in, oblivious. The space had to fill up, so that even if they realized something was wrong, they couldn't escape easily.

There was a crashing sound. Wood chips flew inside the room. The door was severely twisted, gaping at top and bottom. Only the handle and the nearby lock still held.

This should be enough. Gyeo-ul tossed the smoke grenade inside the line of cabinets. Two breaths later, a sudden, sharp hiss as green smoke started billowing. Then—Kwang! The sound of the door finally breaking. Like a dam had burst. The flooded corpses surged in.

Light and death poured in at once. Some fell, crushed under their own weight.

Gyeo-ul lured them. Deeper inside, and deeper still. The aisle between the cabinets was already shrouded in thick smoke. From the start, even light was faint, so Gyeo-ul himself now had no clear line of sight. He removed the night vision and put on the gas mask. He felt along both sides, continuing to move backward.

Kwadang-tang, kung-kwang. The cabinets doubled as partitions. Corpses were loudly coming in from the opposite side, too. With more time, the ones that entered from the other direction would close in from behind.

Inside the smoke, Gyeo-ul climbed onto a cabinet. Soundless, in a single motion.

The pursuers passed through the spot where Gyeo-ul had just been. More continued to come in. Lying flat on his stomach, Gyeo-ul felt the rough vibrations of the cabinet. The collisions of things passing on both sides. Their ragged breathing could be felt at arm's length.

Kelluk! Kweeeegh! The agonized coughs of those who'd gone first.

Sometimes, things that aren't weapons become weapons. Smoke grenades—regardless of intent—are just smoke produced by burning something. Used in a sealed space, they could cause breathing difficulties.

Gyeo-ul lay prone, waiting calmly. Listening to the increasing number of dry coughs from the sick things. 𝑓𝘳𝑒𝑒𝓌𝘦𝘣𝘯ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝑚

'Oxygen deprivation is dangerous for me too...'

Far too many of them were breathing in a narrow space. And a gas mask only filters harmful substances; it doesn't create oxygen. How quickly would oxygen run out? Hard to know. The timing until the mutants started suffocating was crucial. Not being able to confirm with his eyes was a problem. It's hard to wear both mask and goggles at once. Even if he wore goggles, the smoke would obscure the view.

Gyeo-ul advanced by crawling. He had no need to silence his movement.

The coughing turned into groaning. The ones short on air couldn't even manage a warning. Even the relatively "intact" ones would have lost their sense of smell. Gyeo-ul carefully descended. His foot landed on something living. Twisted together, they moaned in pain. Kkeok. Kkeok. Kkeoooek. Their voices were thick with fluid.

A transmission came through.

[First lieutenant Han, what is your status?]

Since it was a bone-conduction receiver, no sound leaked out.

But it was hard to reply. Instead of speaking, Gyeo-ul tapped the mic. Even if it was meaningless, it was unmistakably an artificial rhythm. Hard to mistake for simple static.

[It seems you cannot speak... The boiler will explode soon. One minute and thirty-seven seconds from now. The east corridor is blocked. If you need to change the plan, tap three times; if not, tap five times.]

Ududuk. Twisting the neck of a mutant encountered at breath's distance, Gyeo-ul signaled the detective to proceed as is.

[Understood. Please stay safe. We will meet at the stairwell to the 10th floor.]

The time waiting for the explosion. The shadowy corner was a pit of groans. In the dim entryway light, nothing was distinguishable. Relying solely on hearing and touch, Gyeo-ul killed everything near and approaching him. Is this how the blind fight?

Kwaang!

The explosion sounded smaller than he expected. Like a discordant note intruding on a symphony.

Moments later, heat surged in. The room, already packed, got even hotter, since mutant body temperature was higher than humans.

Moving low, feeling his way through steam and darkness, Gyeo-ul sensed something unnaturally different. Even through his gloves, he could feel it distinctly. A mutant with different skin from the rest. He sensed a harder texture.

Special mutant.

Being stronger than usual doesn't mean better in all respects. The greater the metabolism, the more oxygen is needed. If he listened, he could clearly distinguish a ragged groan amid the noisy surroundings.

It would die anyway if left alone. Or perhaps it would suppress its metabolism. Even then, by the time it woke, it would already be trapped. It couldn't break through the fireproof barrier with strength alone.

It might already be poisoned.

He ignored it and passed by. The floor, covered with exhausted things, made it hard to keep his balance.

The exit was half-blocked. Fortunately, the ones outside were distracted by the explosion, making this easier. Otherwise, getting out would have been torture.

At last, the hallway. An open space. But the sense of openness could only be felt by the sounds echoing from all directions. His view only changed from black to a hazy white glow.

Reaching a straight section, Gyeo-ul took off his gas mask. Then he started running.

Within the thick vapor, the field of view was barely one to two meters. The mutants couldn't properly react to the boy who suddenly appeared. Ppaak! A mutant's teeth shattered from a punch to the jaw. Against one blocking his way, he slammed his whole body. The full weight of his armed body armor stacked on his own mass, plus the precision of expert technique. The mutant bounced away unilaterally.

Even for Gyeo-ul, this tested the limits of his reflexes. His running speed matched the speed at which mutants popped up. The bad conditions meant only brief sensory compensation. He had to respond the instant he saw them. Should he hit, shove, or slip by?

The scream of the downed mutant came too late. Gyeo-ul had already gained momentum and melted into the vapor. The mutant, having lost its prey, howled. Countless footsteps converged at the call, and the gap closed. Gyeo-ul lowered his position and rolled his body. The rolling boy and the group of mutants passed by in an instant. Some tripped over the boy. He killed them by stabbing their necks with his elbow. Than struck the upper cervical vertebrae with such force, it collapsed.

The density of mutants increased in his path. In the steam, they rose up like walls. Even dodging quickly, it was the same. Mutants that spotted Gyeo-ul started to go berserk. There was no opening ahead. He toppled the ones piling on, pulled the pin on a grenade and rolled it. Then he grabbed a near mutant by the collar and turned it toward the direction he'd rolled the grenade.

The mutant, now facing Gyeo-ul, widened both eyes. A beautiful woman with a pale face. She bared her jaws wide, trying to bite the boy.

Puh-uhng!

The steam shook from the shockwave. Even though the gathered mutants dampened the blast, Gyeo-ul couldn't withstand the pressure striking his shield. He fell backward. Ziinng—For a moment, his ears, numbed by the blast, rang sharply. The shield, entangled with Gyeo-ul, could protect no longer. He rolled it aside.

At the end of the hallway, Gyeo-ul felt along the wall. It had to be around here... The barrier cutoff lever...

"Kkyeeegh!"

Gyeo-ul smashed a mutant's head into the lever. Kwaduk. The handle of the lever dug into the monster's face. While holding it there, he yanked the lever down. The monster's head crashed against it again as the lever snapped.

Despite a caved-in face, the mutant struggled to push away from the wall and escape. Gyeo-ul didn't resist that effort—instead he added his own strength and hurled the mutant back down the corridor he'd come from. From beyond the fog, came the sounds of a tumbling pileup.

Even then, another one popped out and he kicked it. Kicked the belly, slammed the bent face with his knee, then elbowed the rising head down. After that, he immediately unleashed a suppressive burst from a magazine.

Half the fireproof barrier was already down. Gyeo-ul threw himself underneath. Sliding, he braked with his knees and rose with inertia. He twisted his rifle, ejected the empty magazine, and inserted a new one in the desperate second half of a breath.

Tutatatatang! Tatata-tang! Tatatatang!

Mutants breaking through the vapor fell one after another. One, whose dead head was wedged under the barrier. Peouk, peuk. Gyeo-ul kicked it hard with his sturdy combat boots. Each time he kicked, the bones cracked, the head warped, and the barrier lowered. At last, the skull shattered. The barrier crushed the remaining flesh and bone fragments.

Half a crushed skull remained at Gyeo-ul's feet.

The barrier stopped the spread of vapor beyond this point. His visibility quickly improved.

Near-explosive gunfire rang out. Was the detective in a firefight?

Running toward the stairs, Gyeo-ul saw mutants being torn apart in real time. Each shot packed the destructive power of a sledgehammer—she used a shotgun. The detective kept to cover, unleashing thirty rounds of shot pellets at the converging targets. When a mutant leaped high, it flipped backward from the blast. A shower of intestines was an extra.

'Seems she doesn't need help.'

She claimed to be a veteran of unconventional warfare—apparently, that wasn't a lie. Her aim and fire control were nearly perfect. Not one was hit by more than three shots. Shotguns are, by nature, a short-ranged firearm. She had clearly chosen a weapon she was accustomed to. Handling such a 7-kilogram weapon-nimbly was no small feat.

Chack. As the muzzle swung his way, Gyeo-ul raised his hands.

"Calm down. It's me."

"... You're safe. I was very worried."

Agent Gibson let out a sigh of relief, her breath trembling slightly. Then she asked for covering fire for a moment. Gyeo-ul guarded the main approach from beside the counter where she was hunkered. Meanwhile, the female detective removed the magazine from her gun. It wasn't an ordinary magazine. It was a thick, flat drum designed to load thirty-two rounds of shot pellets at once.

With his rifle, Gyeo-ul could afford to drop several magazines, but Agent Gibson's drum magazines were bulky, so she couldn't carry many. It was best to reload whenever possible.

"How did you get out of there?"

As she loaded rounds one by one from her pack, the detective asked. Gyeo-ul explained the sequence. In the locker room, he induced suffocation with a smoke grenade; in the hallway, he simply ran.

"The important thing is the number of enemies you're fighting at the same time. With such limited visibility, how could they possibly all see me and come for me? Actually, the slower you go, the more dangerous it is."

The detective shook her head.

"The idea is one thing, but I could never bring myself to try it. The smoke grenade part was an excellent improvisation. You'll do well in San Francisco, I think."

She finished loading single rounds, operated the charging handle, observed the empty chamber, then loaded one extra shell and finally inserted the drum. Then, she asked Gyeo-ul,

"What will you do from here? At a glance, there must be over a thousand cabins."

She pointed to the ship's internal blueprint, posted on the wall behind the counter. After reviewing the floor layouts of each deck, she didn't wait for Gyeo-ul's answer before continuing—

"Shouldn't we secure the bridge first? This ship is like a hotel on the water, and the bridge probably doubles as a manager's office... We might be able to check each room via the intercom. Maybe there's some CCTV, too. Even if not, at least we can stop the ship or slow down to buy some time."

It was a decent suggestion. Gyeo-ul nodded.

---------------------------= Author's Commentary ---------------------------=

#Q&A

Q. Soonhoe-han-ingyeonghon: Personally, it seems the AI is creating conditions similar to Gyeo-ul's past—and giving him chance to overcome them for the sake of his happiness... but in doing so, his environment just gets harder and harsher. What do you think of happiness produced or prompted by AI?

A. The details of the world do indeed vary by individual... hehe... Gyeo-ul has already talked about the distinction between AI and humans. Whether that was heartfelt, or just to reassure the psychotherapist, who can say.

Q. Geomeunbi66: I'm curious how this novel will end—will the zombie problem be solved, will Gyeo-ul's suffering finally come to an end, or will he return to reality for a reality-focused ending? 1) Do you have a set ending? 2) Is the focus on resolving the in-game zombie problem, or on Gyeo-ul's healing and happiness, or is it social satire and questioning happiness? 3) If the story ends, do you have any intention of writing a sequel, I.e. are you aiming to do this professionally or is this more of a hobby you write occasionally?

A.

1. Of course, the ending is set. The novel's last line is a single line of dialogue from Gyeo-ul. I can't say more because of spoilers.

2. The focus is on the conflicts of the real world. Even roses bloom there.

3. I've envisioned a medium-length sequel [The Road to Happiness] set in the same universe, but honestly, I haven't even finished the ossuary properly yet, so... I don't want to get anyone's hopes up.

Also, I want to go pro as a writer. The Ossuary is my debut work. If I can be proud in front of my family as a "writer,"

I'll choose this as my profession. If not... I guess I'll stop writing novels.

Q. app2225: Unlike in Gyeo-ul's era, modern high school girls have six arms, ten tentacles, and four pairs of eyes, so Gyeo-ul can't possibly win. Haha.

A. Oh dear. When I went to the market today, delinquent high school girls started shooting lasers from their eyes. Next time I'll have to wear diapers—it's too scary...

Q. Maesil Concentrate2: I think "Ossuary" is a fitting title in retrospect, since I found it fun, but at first I didn't want to read it because of my prejudice against the title. (....) I was lucky to find it through Jimeclogyong's recommendation.

A. I've been curious for a while—what is Jimeclogyong? A person? Or a website?

Q. RGZ95: The charm of your writing is the immersion in each scene. It feels like I'm seeing it with my own eyes and that makes it so enjoyable.

A. Actually, rGZ95, you've fallen for my trick. When readers picture scenes as they read, it's because the writer is sending telepathic images at that moment.

Haaa. Doing this every day seriously wears down my imagination. Someday I'll have to win by pure prose skills, no telepathy... Korean is so difficult.

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