Bite My Tongue

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“Yujin-ah! Ya, Jinjin~! Stop that~!”

Pinning Wonyoung’s wrists together against the polished basketball court floor above her head, Yujin dipped down towards her with a knowing smirk. “It’s over when I say it’s over, princess. Now what was that about me choking my shots again?”

Wonyoung licked the inner fold of her lower lip and blew air into Yujin’s face. “Not telling—HAHAHA STOP!”

Wonyoung has a weakness for tickles. A terrible, horrible weakness for it. A weakness that Yujin knew all too well.

Withdrawing her wriggling fingers, she sat atop Wonyoung’s waist, other hand still holding her wrists together. “We can do this the easy way or we can do this the hard way, Wonnie. I suggest you think about your next response properly. Now, who was it that you said couldn’t shoot for shit during the match? Was it the same girl who scored forty points all on her own and won us the game?”

“I don’t know about you, but I think she’s the same girl who I had to cover for when she got diarrhea and couldn’t come to practice all of last week—YA STOP HAHAHA STOP PLEASE!”

“Did you really have to bring that up? That was one bad tteokbokki bowl, ok? And besides, I made it up to coach when—.”

“Hello? Is anybody still there?”

It was the janitor. They had forgotten the time, and more so, forgotten that they weren’t alone here on school grounds.

Wonyoung was about to roll over and make a run for it, but just as she broke free from Yujin’s restraints, the older girl clasped both of her hands down against Wonyoung’s mouth, dropping down low.

Wonyoung bit her tongue to stop herself from making any sounds at all.

“Hello? Hello~? I can see the lights are still on. Are you still using the basketball court?”

As the younger girl’s eyes widened, the older one shook her head relentlessly. “Shh, keep it down! If we get caught I’ll get another demerit, and coach won’t let me play the fin—NGHH JANG WONYOUNG WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”

Although the footsteps drew closer and closer, Wonyoung didn’t let up. This was her revenge—sticking her own slender digits against Yujin’s sides, tickling her in return.

The two of them squirmed against each other, bodies pressed onto one another as they writhed in place while keeping their mouths shut amidst this immature little push-and-pull of theirs.

“Huh, must have been the wind.”

Once the sound of a wobbling wheeled cart disappeared into the distance, Yujin exhaled abruptly through her nostrils and burst into laughter.

“YA HAHAHA—YA JANG WONYOUNG! STOP! STOP—MERCY, MERCY!”

Wonyoung would have spewed a ton of things by now if Yujin didn’t have her hands over her lips. But she settled on the privilege of watching her best friend melt to putty in her nimble hands, saliva coating the corners of her mouth.

What a view. I wish we could be like this forever, Jinjin.

What a view. This … isn’t so bad for a final memory of this world …

Wonyoung would have thought a lot of other things by now if Yujin didn’t continue strangling the life out of her. But she settles on knowing that Yujin will get to live to see another day—even if that means living as a zombie.

Even if it means Wonyoung has to die.

But just when this zombified verison of her snarls and growls down at Wonyoung, ready to rip a piece of her flesh clean off her, she stills. The saliva excreting from her slack jaw hangs in the air like a thick string of syrup trickling down viscously over the younger girl’s right cheek.

Then, the unthinkable happens.

Much unlike any other horror film she’s seen before, Wonyoung watches as the whites in Yujin’s eyes part like curtains to reveal the brown warmth from within again. She watches as her dilated pupils start to return to their normal size, and with it, the first few rapid blinks of her drying eyes. Wonyoung can see when it is that Yujin regains her consciousness, for when she stares down at what she’s doing to her best friend, she immediately screams and let’s go, rolling off her and onto all fours next to her.

“Wh-What was … I-I-I was … That …”

Gasping for air, choking on the rushing relief of being able to breathe again, Wonyoung similarly gets onto her hands and knees and tries to steady herself. Through the veil of her air, she sees Yujin gripping the ground with her bloodied fingers, scraping against it like it’s a scratching post, howling at it like she’s in pain.

Wonyoung skitters to the side and reaches for the bolt cutter, using it to prop herself back into a stand. Swinging the makeshift weapon in front of her, she beckons towards Yujin. “Y-You … whatever you are right now … c-can you … can you speak to me?”

Lifting her head up like a cowering wolf, Yujin nods frantically, her hair swishing with each erratic movement.

“O-O-Ok … then … who are you … and who … who am I? Can you … can you tell me?”

Without any hesitation, the slumping figure before Wonyoung responds, “I-I … I’m Yujin … An Yujin. And you’re Wonyoung. Jang … Jang Wonyoung. My … my … my—HNGHHH.”

I … I should kill her. I need to kill her … She’s not going to give me any second chances when she fully turns …

Yujin …

In the middle of her transformation, as she struggles between the kiss of un-death and the reveries of life, Wonyoung watches her best friend’s bloodshot eyes force themselves onto her. Glowering at her.

Begging for her.

Yujin …?

Wonyoung readies herself to swing down hard against Yujin—or at least, what’s supposed to be left of her—but she stops at the apex of the motion.

Across Yujin’s sprawled form, Wonyoung notices the large gash that one of the zombies dealt to her earlier—a hard-to-miss swath of her left torso that was ripped into. Skin and some muscle included. It’s barely been ten minutes, and yet, the bleeding’s already stopped. Where the zombie left teeth marks, there are etched-in rings of pitch black that throbbed to a different cadence from her breathing and pulse. It beats and tenses as the surrounding blood vessels all darken along her pale flesh, indicating that something is not right there.

That something is not right with her.

To say Yujin’s face has turned animalistic is an understatement. When the whites of her eyes swallow her vision whole again, she acts if she has no memories or recollections of who she is anymore—of who anyone or what anything is anymore. Driven by a blind rage—an insatiable hunger of sorts—all she recognizes is the living.

Blood. Flesh. Bone. 

A meal.

That’s all Wonyoung is to this Yujin now as she curls her incisors upwards and outwards like a rabid beast. That’s all any of them will ever be to this monstrosity now.

At least, that’s what Wonyoung infers based on what she’s seen in shows and films.

At least, that’s what Wonyoung can infer as Yujin pounces towards her again.

Instead of hitting her with the cutter, the poor girl drops it onto her own foot and screams in pain, hopping backwards before slipping onto her rump.

At least, she would have done so if Yujin didn’t catch her.

Wait, Yujin caught her?

“A-Are you ok?” Yujin coos, her voice gentler now than any whisper she’s ever muttered before. Wonyoung can tell her throat is sore, hoarse from from all the guttural growling she’s been making. “I-I-I was just … I didn’t mean to …”

Wonyoung wants to observe many different things across her best friend’s person, but the first thing she turns to is the wound on her side.

It’s no longer throbbing. It’s no longer darkened.

It’s gone dormant.

Steadying herself, Wonyoung pushes out of Yujin’s arms and takes a few steps back. When the other girl leans in out of concern, she picks up the cutter again and threatens to snip her tongue off. “You … I don’t know what happened to you, Yujin … o-o-or if you’re even still Yujin at this point, but you … stay away. Stay away from me.”

Wonyoung can tell from Yujin’s expression the exact moment when her heart shatters into a million pieces.

She doesn’t say it. Doesn’t mention it. Doesn’t even utter a single word. Yujin just glances down at her trembling, sweaty, and darkened hands. Hands that she herself doesn’t seem to recognize or control anymore. She wipes them all over her body, across the fabric of her tattered university jacket, like that might help with washing away the sins she’s committed in her altered state of mine. But as she continues to step backwards, each footfall heavier and faster than the previous one, Yujin scans her being and soon realizes that she isn’t the same person she was anymore.

She’s become something different.

And she’s not going to hurt anyone else anymore.

“Yujin? YUJIN!”

At the last second, Wonyoung reaches for her best friend and manages to grab her by the ankle. Although she must weight like nothing, the force of her grip is enough to keep Yujin from fully falling off the edge of the balcony.

Dangling with the upper half of her body ready to free-fall into the oblivion below, Yujin gets a good look at the chaos happening beneath the both of them.

People running around the campus grounds like ants trying to escape a flood. Windows and doors shattering and bursting open from the sheer force of the monstrosities banging on them. Screams, shredding, skewering, splattering, smashing—a cacophony of sounds filling the afternoon air like the backdrop to some ongoing freak-of-nature horror show. 

By the time Wonyoung manages to pull her back up, Yujin looks like she isn’t sure if being saved is the best outcome for her. Like she isn’t even sure if she wants to head back down there and deal with all of that carnage.

Like she isn’t even sure if she wants to still live.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Wonyoung notes, and there’s a semblance of a quip somewhere there, but it’s too buried behind layers of latent shock and anxiety. “L-Let me take a look.”

Yujin isn’t fast enough to stop her, so all she can do now as her best friend witnesses the tragedies snowballing down below in realtime is to hold the small of her back steady and prevent her from falling to her untimely death herself.

“Yujin … the whole university … it’s …”

“Going to shit, yes. Quite the observation, princess,” Yujin jests, and she means for there to be a semblance of some witty sarcasm there, but it’s lost on her in the same way that she’s lost on any logic over how any of this might have happened. “ I was just on my way to meet you here. Was … was in a hurry. Thinking you weren’t … weren’t gonna show, princess. And I swear, I-I-I was just at the door when I heard those … those screams.”

Oh god.

“A-A-And I was trying … I swear, I was trying to open the door, but it was locked for some reason.”

Oh god, Y-Yujin … I-I-I

“I don’t think you could hear me from everything that was going on, but I … I was trapped, Wonyoung. I slammed the door as hard as I could to try and call your attention, but … before I knew it, some of them managed to corner me.”

Stop … stop … STOP.

“And that’s … that’s how I got bitten.”

Wonyoung collapses onto her knees and starts dry heaving, fingers tugging at the fine silks of her hair. She can feel the acid building up in her gut and bubbling like a heated witch’s cauldron. But after several rounds of deep breathing—and with the help of Yujin’s hand on her shoulder—Wonyoung manages to suppress the regurgitation of her bile and pushes it back down into her stomach.

But that doesn’t change the fact that Wonyoung still feels sick to her head.

She doesn’t know where this started, what exactly caused any of this, or if this is even all real to begin with. But between the mutilated pale corpse of a student a few meters away from them and Yujin’s own state of living un-death, Wonyoung knows one thing for certain.

She did this to Yujin.

She’s the reason why Yujin’s the way she is now.

She wants to bash her head into the barrier of the balcony. Wants to clip her own throat out with the bolt cutter and lacerate her tongue in as many ways as possible. Wants to hurl herself off the edge and feel every last one of her vertebrae get comminuted and pulverized.

But she can’t—she can’t think of any of that now. Because Yujin’s holding the sides of her face, holding up her cheeks, pressing her thumbs into the bags under her eyes, and keeping her steady. Keeping her grounded.

Cold. Her hands are cold.

When was the last time she felt them—held them? Some few hours ago, when they were still at the clubroom. Alone. Right before their argument. The argument that lead to some friction. The friction that she let get to her head. The mindset that made her arrogant and insolent enough to avoid letting Yujin in immediately. And had she not done that—had she just swallowed her pride and opened the damn door—then maybe … then maybe …

“Shhh, shhh, princess. D-Don’t … don’t cry,” Yujin soothes as she holds the tearing-up Wonyoung in her larger arms. Stroking the length of her slender back, Yujin tucks Wonyoung’s face into the crook of her own neck and sighs. “It’s … overwhelming. I know. But … we’ll make it out of whatever this is. I promise.”

But Wonyoung shook her head, burying her face deeper into Yujin.

She’s sallowing. Losing the familiar light tan that Wonyoung found attractive against a two-piece swimsuit next to her on the sand.

She’s mellowing. Losing the cloying scent of her deodorant that she always used before and after matches—the scent that Wonyoung still hasn’t figured out the name of.

She’s enfeebling. Lost the smug in her tone, the animation in her movements, the spontaneity in her charm.

She feels it. Wonyoung can feel it. It’s not something that happens all at once—this zombification. And Wonyoung swears it on her life that she wishes it isn’t so gradual like this. Maybe then it would be easier to kill her. To rid her of this painful existence—Yujin. But she can’t. Wonyoung can’t. Not while she still feels human. Not while she’s still someone she recognizes.

Not while she’s still someone she might love.

“J-J-Jinjin I-I … I’m sorry … I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m—I-I could have … and now you’re …”

“Princess, you aren’t even making sense anymore. Right now, we need to get the hell out of here and … and figure out what to do next.”

Sniffling, when Wonyoung withdraws from Yujin’s embrace, she dabs her eyes and gestures towards her best friend. “You … you said you wanted to meet here to tell me something. What … Tell me. Before we go. While we’ve still got time.”

While we’re still both sane, Yujin.

But Yujin just chuckles and pinches Wonyoung’s swollen cheek tenderly. “Right place, right time, Wonnie. Let’s … let’s try to find our way out first.”

Yujin stretches out an arm, extending a hand towards Wonyoung.

Wonyoung takes a moment to stare at it. At the etchings and lines woven across Yujin’s broad palm like a tapestry with a design that is uniquely hers. She examines it like it might be different—one of many other things that may have changed about her. She stares at it in complete bafflement.

Who would have thought that it would take the beginnings of a zombie apocalypse to get her best friend to offer her hand out to her like this again?

Pushing away such irrelevant thoughts and feelings away for now, Wonyoung slips her smaller palm into Yujin’s, and once the older girl feels it, she gives it a firm clench and pulls Wonyoung along with her.

Through the door. Down the stairs. And into the mayhem below.

It’s a warzone out here. 

As soon as they step onto the fifth floor a triad of girls nearly knock Wonyoung over as they push past them. The girl in front screams for her life as the sleeves of her blazer are on fire. Students, professors, and university staff alike are all rushing down the stairs, skipping steps, avoiding the flailing hands reaching out for them from the lower floors. Through one of the windows lining the corridor, both Yujin and Wonyoung catch a glimpse of a student trying to paw her way into their current floor, only to be punctuated with a shriek and the sound of her palm dragging against the glass.

Yujin holds her arm out in front of Wonyoung. “Stay back. Stay behind me. And stay close. We need to get down as fast—.”

A bloated balding man in a polo shirt comes charging towards them from a blind corner.

“Yujin—!”

The older girl thrusts herself into harm’s way in an attempt to shield Wonyoung from the incoming zombie, but as soon as she steps into the zombie’s line of sight, its barred teeth retract into his folded lips. His arms fall slack by his side as his shoulders relax. The zombie simply sniffs the air, cranes its neck around, then waddles away mindlessly from the two girls—back to where he came from.

Gripping the sleeve of Yujin’s jacket, Wonyoung whispers, “What … what was that? Why did he stop attacking us?”

“I … I don’t know Wonnie, but, it must have been the way I smell.”

“You … what?”

Before she can even get the chance to explain herself, the two girls watch as a chair comes flying at the zombie from earlier, smacking him right in the face as the piece of furniture knocks him prone and shatters against his body.

“Get away from me!”

Bursting from the corner wielding the legs of another broken wooden chair is a bob-haired girl who batters and beats up the poor old man with her makeshift escrima sticks.

“Don’t. You. Dare. Touch. ANY. OF. US. AGAIN!”

Panting, the girl slowly gets up, never easing the grip she has on the chair legs, and the moment she sees the zombie twitch even for just a millisecond, she kicks him in the nuts before bashing his skull in.

Wonyoung brushes past the still-defensive Yujin to make her way to the other girl. “G-Gaeul! Gaeul-unnie! Are you ok?”

All it takes is one glance at her friend for Gaeul’s facade of fearlessness to crumble. Dropping her weapons to the floor, she embraces Wonyoung tightly by her neck. “Gosh … Wonyoungie you’re still alive. You’re still safe. I-I-I’m so relieved. Are you with anyone?”

Yujin …

Wonyoung ignores Gaeul’s question as she continues embracing her unnie, keeping Gaeul’s face smothered in her grasp. Partly because she’s never felt this thankful to see her again. Partly because she’s not sure how to explain the Yujin incident to her.

She’s not even sure if she wants to mention the Yujin incident to her.

But Gaeul can only be withheld this way for so long. Eventually, the older girl resurfaces, fingers combing through her messy bob as she takes a deep breath and nods. “I’m sorry you had to see that. I know they’re still people in some way but … the moment he saw us, he just … lost all rhyme and reason. He attacked us on sight.”

“Don’t feel bad about that, unnie. He was an asshole even before he became a zombie,” Wonyoung jokes, realizing now with a sideways glance that the zombie Gaeul killed was Professor Hong—the Philosophy 1 instructor who’s been known to fail students he fancies in the hopes of having them retake his class next semester. “A-Anyway, you said ‘us’? Who else is with you?”

A cry for help interrupts their conversation.

“NGHH … Unnie! Unnie, I can’t hold this for much longer!”

Down the corridor from where both Gaeul and Professor Hong came from are pleas followed closely by the sound of bludgeoning. The two lock hands together as Gaeul picks up one of the chair legs and tosses it to Wonyoung, wielding the second one herself before following the source of the noise.

Four classrooms down, holding up what seems to be an assortment of cleaning supplies like mops and broomsticks, is a girl in a knitted sweater vest with claw marks down the back of it. She’s struggling against an unseen perpetrator which constantly rams against the door from the other side. The poor girl’s keeping the door shut with one hand while the other is already preparing her cleaning equipment in case the zombies make it through.

Gaeul and Wonyoung give chase and rush to her side in time as her small fingers slip from the door’s handle. Out come the zombies that yank open the barricade, only to be met by a flurry of wallops and whomps from Gaeul and Wonyoung, who each take one of them on.

“Don’t hesitate!” Gaeul beckons in between strikes at the zombie’s neck and chest. “They might look like people you know but … they’re gone. They’re gone!”

Thrusting the chair leg in between the zombies gnawing teeth, Wonyoung stole a brief glance at the undead woman before her. She must be a professor like Hong-seonsaengnim. Maybe she’s taken her class before. Maybe she was a substitute. Maybe she has children waiting for her at home, wondering why their mother isn’t answering her ringing phone.

But what isn’t just a ‘maybe’ is the fact that this lady is out to devour her. And Wonyoung isn’t going to let that happen.

Just as she manages to strangle the zombie and pin it against the floor, a third one comes out and runs after the sprawled girl, who can’t even hold up one of the mops steadily from sheer fright. Just before she can close her eyes and scream, glass shatters behind her as another zombie comes flying out the next-door classroom window, slamming into her pursuer.

A clothed hand cleans the jagged edges of the shattered glass before another girl leaps out, stomping on the dustpan next to the vested girl to send it flying up into her grasp. With a feral swing, she decks the two zombies with a series of wide swings and backhands until they drop dead a second time—until they are finally rendered lifeless again.

“Ha … ha … pick yourself up now, Hanni, there’s no telling how many more are on this floor,” the girl with a high ponytail urges, holding up a hand to help the former. “Where’s Wonhee?”

As if on queue, a sharp wail echoes through the hall from the end of the corridor.

“UNNIE, UNNIE! GOING DOWN THAT WAY WAS A TERRIBLE IDEA—AHHHHHH!”

Wonyoung has never heard such an eardrum-shattering shriek before. Pulled up by Gaeul, the two of them along with their two new companions rush to the aid of this third girl, who is being chased by a flock of zombies.

Wonyoung has never been a ‘fighter’. She’s never even been much of a ‘physical’ type of person either. But when the moment demands her to step up, the fear coursing through her veins morphs into unbridled adrenaline as only one thing permeates her mind.

Survive.

Both Gaeul and Wonyoung aim for the same zombie, hurling their chair legs at its eyes to blind it. Hanni charges forward with her mop and broom, head recoiled backwards to avoid being bitten as she clears the way and gives the others some space to breathe and move. The second girl from earlier—who happens to now be wielding her own pair of stilettos—uses the sharp end to punch holes into the zombies nearest to her, puncturing the putrid hell out of them.

Once Wonhee makes it out of enemy lines and behind the four girls, the rest of them clean up the small flock one by one, not stopping until every last one of them are either restrained, tossed off the level, or dropped dead on the floor.

Panting, heaving, the rush of survival now fading from her system, Wonyoung wipes the sweat from her face, unbothered by the swath of light makeup that comes with it too. “Is … ha … is everyone fine? Is this everyone now, u-unnie …?”

Bending over by her knees, Gaeul nods with a thumbs up after counting everyone. “Yeah … yeah, that’s everyone.”

Helping her unnie stand properly, Wonyoung takes a glance at their three new acquaintances, each of whom contribute to quite the unique ensemble. 

“Hanni, Creative Writing,” the vested one greets, waving at Wonyoung while her cleaning equipment are pinned underneath her armpits. “That’s Lia—.”

“Ya, only my friends call me that. Just calling me Jisu is fine,” the cold girl corrects, fixing the fit of her hair on her head. Wonyoung notices how her arms are bloodied. She wonders if that’s from her own blood or from the zombies. “Choi Jisu, Political Science.”

A sudden embrace knocks the wind out of Wonyoung’s sails for a moment, and when she glances down at who’s responsible for it, a crying girl nuzzles up close to her. “Thank you … gah … thank you for saving me, unnie. I-I’m Wonhee. Lee Wonhee, Fashion Design.”

As Wonyoung nods at each one of them, she suddenly remembers someone she had left behind. “Oh god, Yujin—!”

“I’m right here, princess.”

Stomping on the head of one of the zombies that attacked Hanni earlier, squishing its head like a bug and cleaning up after them, Yujin stuffs her hands into her jacket, her ruffled hair still clinging to and covering bits of her forehead. “What’s up?”

Gaeul is the first one to move. She dashes to Yujin to punch her in the arm. “Yujin ah, am I glad to see you. Wonyoung didn’t mention you earlier, and I …”

“Must have slipped her mind, but I’m ok, unnie. I came with her actually,” Yujin explains. She looks past Gaeul to see Wonyoung make little shakes with her head. Biting her lip, the older girl shifts the conversation a bit. “Um, seems like you’ve been grouped up with them?”

“Grouped up is one way to put it. We just happened to find each other when Gaeul over here was sweeping through the floors of this building,” Jisu recounts, blowing on the tips of her stilettos. “We haven’t checked the other corridors on this floor yet, but it should be the last one for the Gen Ed building.”

“Checked?” Yujin repeats.

“For survivors. If Gaeul hadn’t checked each floor like this, then … we pretty much would have died.”

As Hanni finishes, she, Jisu, and Wonhee all exchange knowing glances. Wonyoung turns to Gaeul, who shakes her head with a humble smile on her, patting Wonyoung on the small of her back. “It’s the least I can do. I … I didn’t want to leave anyone behind.”

“That’s very you, unnie,” Wonyoung teases, her smile quite palpable and warm on her own face too. “But what are you doing here in the General Education building? Isn’t your last class for the day a major?”

“I-I-I …”

“Listen, ladies, I’d love to stay here, get to know each other, and catch up, but we’re kind-of sort-of still in the middle of a situation here,” Yujin reminds them, referring to the zombies filling into the atrium connecting all the corridors on the fifth floor. “If we’re going to do one final sweep of this floor for any other survivors like us, then we better get going.”

“Right, we can’t keep fighting our way through this. We’ll finish off this floor then head out to somewhere safer,” Gaeul announces, swinging her impromptu weapon in one hand. “We’ll split into pairs to make things faster. Remember: don’t engage if you don’t have to. They’ll overwhelm us in a heartbeat, so don’t hesitate to call for help if you need it.”

As the other girls ready themselves, each baring their own means of defense, Gaeul gestures with her head towards Wonyoung. “You’re with me, Wonyoungie. It would put me at ease knowing you’re safe by my side. And … I’m just really glad to see you again.”

Biting her lip, Wonyoung is about to join Gaeul as the others break into pairs too, but an overwhelming force yanks her away.

“Actually, she’s with me, unnie.”

Tumbling into Yujin, one hand on her collarbone to press off of her, Wonyoung glances at her best friend, who already has a protective arm swaddling around her. “I can protect her better, unnie. That way, you can search faster without having to keep an eye out on someone.”

Wonyoung is surprised by many things. 

For one, Yujin’s strength. She’s gotten physical with her before, but this time—that pull—it felt different. Stronger. Firmer. Imbued.

Second, Yujin’s idea. It actually makes sense. Wonyoung didn’t consider how she might be deadweight next to their Gaeul-unnie, and it seems that from the look of bewilderment on Gaeul’s face, she didn’t consider it either.

And third, Yujin’s assertiveness.

“I-I … Ya, I can handle myself just fine. What, do you think I can put up a fight against—?”

From behind them, a zombie had snuck up through the stairs that Wonhee came from and tries to pummel through the group. But the moment Yujin turns around and faces the zombie head-first, it slows down to a stop, sniffs the air, and cocks its neck back as if in confusion.

Yujin takes advantage of this flinching to punch a hole through this undead woman’s stomach, ripping out its innards and distended organs. The group watches in horror as the zombie squeals out its last breath, falls to its knees, and then finally collapses into a puddle of its own blackened blood.

Shaking the fluids off her fingers, she returns to the group. “Like I said, she’s safer with me.”

Only Wonyoung is able to catch the cloudy white of Yujin’s vision retreating to the corners of her eyes at the last second.

“I … Well, I won’t argue with that,” Gaeul stammers, losing her words as her gaze is still fixed on the freshly neutralized zombie laying on the floor. “Wonhee, do you have a partner yet? How about you pair up with me instead?”

“Ok unnie, I think I’ll feel safer with you as well anyway,” the young girl assents, skipping over to Gaeul, the colorful accoutrements decorating her hair all swaying with her every step.

“Now that that’s settled, let’s go. We’ll meet back at the atrium in five minutes max. If you don’t make it back by then, then you’re on your own. All good?”

And when all five of them nod in agreement, they soon scatter and hasten to the different corridors.

“An Yujin, what is it this time?” Wonyoung asked, pushing her glasses up as she glanced up from her book.

“Ya, I thought I told you to stop calling me that, Wonnie!” Yujin replied, pouting in the way that Wonyoung always found adorable—her cheeks swelling up a bit, lips curled in such a comical yet endearing way.

“Well, what do you want me to call you? It’s not like I’ve got any good nicknames for you, idiot.”

“You—ugh, you’re lucky you’ve got pretty privilege. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have tolerated your brattiness half the time.”

Hiding her blush behind her novel, Wonyoung cleared her throat. “What was that about a nickname again? And then that thing you bothered me for?”

“Right, right. I don’t know—what would suit me?”

“Suit you?”

Yujin nodded, joining Wonyoung on her bed. She should have been used to this—having Yujin this close to her underneath the sheets. They did this a lot. Nothing out of the ordinary for another sleepover. And yet, it always brought Wonyoung an uncharacteristic halation of warmth that spread all through her whenever Yujin was close like she was now. “What nickname would be fitting? I think it would feel more special coming from you. Make it cool though.”

“How about … Jinjin?”

“Jinjin? What am I—some kind of cartoon character?”

Wonyoung threw the pillow next to her at Yujin’s face, but the athletic girl was able to dodge in time. “Yeah … yeah, Jinjin. I think it’s cuter than just Yujinnie.”

“Hey, are you saying my nickname for you is terrible?”

Before Yujin could pout again, Wonyoung chuckled and pinched Yujin’s right cheek. “Jinjin, Jinjin~. Cute little Jinjin~.”

Yujin dipped her chin inwards, shaking her head like she had puppy ears that could flap about in protest. “Whatever … But yeah, um, do you remember that transferee in our grade from last year? In junior year?”

“Huh, Park Wonbin?”

“Shh! Don’t say it out loud, goddamnit!” Yujin protested, which Wonyoung couldn’t help but guffaw over because who else could have possibly heard it—it was just the two of them in her room. “But yeah … yeah, him. I think … I think I like him. So, uh, I … I might confess. Some time this month. Just … just to get it out of my system.”

“Oh. Oh, I see.”

Wonyoung remembered Wonbin very well. Good-looking. Has a nice sharp jaw. His eyebrows could use a little work though. But certainly well-mannered, and most of all, kind. He didn’t seem like a douchebag like most of the other guys in their year level either.

Above all else, Wonyoung remembered his name because he had just confessed to her last month.

“Please—don’t tell anyone, o-ok? I … I want to be the one to tell him myself. I don’t want him to get the creeps about me before I can say it so … this stays between you and me, ok?”

Why are you even telling me this, Jinjin …?

The thing is, Wonyoung can see them ending up together. Yujin’s vibrant energy can easily match Wonbin’s more reserved demeanor. Wonyoung can already see how their relationship would go—with Yujin as the instigator for dates and hanging out after classes while Wonbin’s the hopeless romantic yearner who does everything he can to make his new girlfriend happy.

The thing is, Wonyoung can just as easily foil all of that if she wanted to.

By telling Wonbin this new information herself. 

What exactly she might say, she’s still unsure. She could tell Wonbin that Yujin’s been dared by one of their other friends to confess to him, so he wouldn’t take her seriously. She could maybe say that another guy already likes her, and Wonbin should help set the two of them up instead. She could probably even get away with mentioning to Wonbin that in exchange for turning Yujin down, she could go on a little movie date with him as thanks for the favor.

But all Wonyoung ended up doing that night was nodding in agreement with Yujin. “Alright … I’ll bite my tongue. But you better not mess it up, Jinjin.”

“Cross your heart?” Yujin started.

Wonyoung finished the action and kissed her two fingers. “Hope to die.”

Without a warning, Yujin squeezed Wonyoung in her arms. “Thank you, Wonyoungie. You’re the bestest friend anyone could have asked for.”

Bestest friend … huh?

Smiling, Wonyoung dried her eyes against Yujin’s pajamas. “Same for you, Jinjin.”

That’s … all I’ll ever be, won’t I?

But the pounding in her chest couldn’t be calmed no matter what she did.

A month after, Wonyoung ended up watching the second Angry Birds movie with Wonbin at a small mall downtown.

Wonyoung isn’t sure what’s causing the pounding in her chest right now.

There are several culprits. Several potential reasons. And yet, she fears the biggest one might be the girl next to her right now, who’s constantly hovering around her like she might get assaulted out of nowhere.

“You know, you’re not make this any easier,” Wonyoung snaps, twisting the knob on one door to see if it will give. It just clicks and resists on the turn. Locked. “We only have five minutes. That’s not enough time to save someone if we do end up finding anybody.”

“You didn’t need five minutes to forget I even existed when Gaeul showed up,” Yujin replies, picking up a broken keychain-flashlight someone left behind. After a few clicks, the torch lights itself, and Yujin shone the beam against Wonyoung’s face.

Crossing her arms and leaning against the wall, Wonyoung raises her brow at her best friend. “I didn’t forget you, I was just … thinking.”

“Thinking?” Yujin scoffs, shaking her head as she trudges over a handful of backpacks whose contents exploded all over the floor, squatting down to sift through them for anything useful. “Your mind sort of just turned off back there. But you’re right, maybe I’m not making it any easier—.”

A notebook binder ricochets off of Yujin’s head.

“If you want that little bite mark of yours to be exposed to the others, then be my guest. I just … I just needed you to stay back for a bit, ok? I was going to vibe check Gaeul to see if she would be … open to the idea of, well, you.”

As Yujin glares at Wonyoung from her lowered position, the other girl can see the mark in question darkening at that very instance. “Yeah? If you’re so scared of me, then why don’t you just leave me, Wonyoung? Hell, why don’t you let me tell Gaeul myself—right to her face.”

“Because I’m trying to protect you!”

The corridor falls silent save for the constant ticking of the analog clock a few paces away on the wall.

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Wonyoung calms herself with a breath. “There’s just … so much we still don’t understand about this, Yujin. There’s still so much I don’t understand about … you. Don’t you find it weird how those zombies did that … thing … when they got close to you?”

“The sniffing thing you mean?” Yujin clarifies, emulating the same action the previous two zombies did to her earlier. “Yeah … I didn’t get that either. But I told you—you smell different. All of you do. You smell different from me, and, well, them.”

“What do I smell like exactly?”

There’s a hint of an answer already forming behind Yujin’s eyes, but Wonyoung watches as she snuffs them out with some rapid blinks. “I … Let’s just call it different, ok?”

“But what does that have to do with anything?” Wonyoung raises, pacing back and forth down the corridor now. “That doesn’t explain why they suddenly just … gave up chasing us.”

“Maybe these zombies can track people based on how they smell. Maybe that’s how they like … hunt down those who are still alive? I … I don’t know.”

Clenching her teeth, Wonyoung points with one finger down the remaining stretch of the corridor that they have yet to scout out. “Why don’t you give it a shot then?”

Thumbs toward herself, Yujin huffs, “Me? Wait, what exactly do you want me to do?”

“Test that theory of yours. The smelling scents thing,” Wonyoung says, helping Yujin loot the remaining things off the floor so she can finally stand up and prepare herself. “They were sniffing the air. Maybe you can do the same. Maybe you can use that to see if there’s any other survivors here. Or if there are any zombies. I don’t know—don’t look at me. It was just an idea—.”

Holding up a hand to Wonyoung’s face, Yujin hushes her. “No … no you’re onto something. It’s harder for me to smell other zombies because my own scent is interfering with it, but … I … oh shit, I-I-I smell something. Someone. Over there!’

The two girls waste no time and run down the corridor. With Yujin in the lead, Wonyoung trails after her until they round a corner into a small cul-de-sac leading to a hallway with smaller lecture rooms.

Yujin approaches a pair of vending machines that have collapsed onto one another. “I-It’s coming from this. Crap, maybe I was just smelling the food—.”

“Hold on, there’s … there’s something stuck underneath it,” Wonyoung raises, noting the gap between the first vending machine and the floor. If there isn’t anything there, then the vending machine should have been flat against the ground. “Quick, help me pull!”

Genuflecting next to the vending machine, Wonyoung begins heaving and tugging upwards as she digs her fingers into the corner of the machine to try and lift it up. But after several unsuccessful attempts, she finds herself only feeling more exhausted than earlier.

“Let me handle this.”

With just one hand—her non-dominant one too, mind you—Yujin is able to lift not only the first vending machine into its proper place against the wall, but she’s able to lift the second one as well.

Save for the shattered bits of glass, the malfunctioning terminal, and the coins scattered across the floor, it looks like everything is in order again—not a thing out of place.

Except for the unconscious girl starfished against the rubble.

Wonyoung gasps and immediately helps her onto her back in her arms. “There really is someone here … Thank god for whatever you managed to do. O-Otherwise, we wouldn’t have even noticed her.”

It’s quite. Too quiet.

“Yujin?”

Her neck cranes too far to one side, snaps and crackles along with her arms and shoulders, before facing Wonyoung once again. Drool gushing down her chin, eyes wide and hazy, neck muscles straining at every last fiber. “Hun- … GHK-gry! Hung … hungry …”

“Yu … -jin?”

Yujin backhands Wonyoung away with enough force to send her into the wall, crumpling against the scattered coins and glass. The zombified girl takes her place, enveloping the unconscious student in her arms, and coating her in a thick layer of her salivation. “EAT … NNGHHH—NEED … EAT!”

“Yujin—YUJIN STOP!”

Incisors already pricking the girl’s neck, Yujin flinches, glancing now at Wonyoung. And that’s more than enough to shake her from her trance as her eyes come back into focus. The body in her hands grows heavy, making her drop it back onto the ground. “No … no no no I-I-I didn’t … I couldn’t control … I just …”

Wonyoung doesn’t even know what to say to her best friend right now. She simply watches the pulsation of the would against Yujin’s side go dormant once more.

As Yujin covers her mouth with one hand and excuses herself to go loot the vending machine food instead, face tucked away in utter shame over what she had almost done, Wonyoung crawls over to the motionless body in a panic and checks the pulse by her neck, caressing over the soft imprint of Yujin’s teeth against the girl’s skin. “She’s … she’s alive. She’s alive!”

“Yeah she’s alive and—cough cough—very confused right now.”

Wonyoung nearly drops the girl, but the wincing sound she makes when her legs budge even just an inch makes Wonyoung grasp her all the more firmly. “You … wait, I know you. You’re one of Asa’s friends.”

Trying to get a better look at where she is and what’s going on, the girl in Wonyoung’s arms closes her eyes and goes slack against her. “I have a name, unnie. It’s Pharita.”

“What happened to you, Pharita? Why were you buried under two vending machines?”

“Ugh, all I can remember is that some idiot broke into our classroom and sent everyone into a panic,” she tries to recall, one arm over her eyes now, as if being brought back to consciousness—to existence—is blinding. “The last thing that comes to mind is … is how everyone stampeded out. I got knocked down, and before I knew it, the vending machines fell over and … and …”

Just imagining what happened to the poor girl makes Wonyoung recoil in pain for her. “I’m sorry …”

“It’s fine. I’m glad you found me. What’s up with that girl anyway? Why was she acting all freaky and stuff?”

Wonyoung and Yujin both turn to each other to share a common glance of understanding, neither of them too sure on how to break the zombie news to her after she’s just come to consciousness too. So they decide to hold their tongues for now.

Especially given how Yujin was a moment away from eating Pharita.

“You’re late. The both of you.”

All three of them glance down the cul-de-sac to see both a displeased Gaeul with a new poached fanny pack around her waist and a terrified Wonhee constantly pacing around her unnie while gripping an extendable pointer with both hands.

“And you’re still here,” Yujin retorts, leaning into Wonyoung so she can shift Pharita’s weight onto her instead, slinging her onto her back while her backpack from earlier clings to her front. Wonyoung wants to speak up and stop Yujin from answering back to Gaeul, but she finds her tongue trapped between her clenching teeth. “We found someone from sweeping. Just like you asked. Can you cut us some slack, unnie?”

Gaeul’s eyes meet Pharita’s own tired gaze as the latter wraps her arms weakly around Yujin. “That’s good then. One more life saved is one less zombie to deal with later down the road. Wonhee, please help Yujin carry her to the others. Spot her back.”

With a stiff salute, the younger girl trails Yujin and Pharita, staying on her guard the entire time. Before Yujin can fully disappear down the corridor, she shoots Wonyoung a look of concern then bounces Pharita up her spine to get a better hold of her.

Her eyes. They’re glazing over again.

Wonyoung’s fingers curl tighter around the hem of her skirt.

Now that Gaeul and Wonyoung are alone, the older of the two lets out a heavy sigh. “Can you blame me for being worried? The two of you together—you’re always in your own little world. I … I don’t want to lose you, Wonyoung. E-Either of you.”

“That’s sweet of you, unnie, but we’re fine. We can manage,” Wonyoung eases, rubbing shoulders with Gaeul before squeezing her forearm. Gaeul winks at her and chuckles. “I’m especially glad you’re ok. If I had it my way, I’d never let you out of my sights until this is all over.”

“Ya, save some affection for the others, unnie. They might get jealous,” Wonyoung quips in reply, but she can’t deny the warmth in her smile as she says that. Gaeul scoffs with a little grin of her own, and shakes her head, “The other will be fine. There’s plenty to go around. Saved that one just for you, actually.”

“Speaking of, unnie, did you … do you know where the others are?”

Wonyoung doesn’t have to elaborate or specify. Gaeul understands in a heartbeat who she’s referring to. “Now that I’ve seen you and Yujin, everyone’s accounted for. Except … Hyunseo.”

Amidst the silence of the corridor, Wonyoung hears her heart shatter against the floor. “Hyun … -seo …? Where … where is she? Wh-What was her last class? Maybe we can find her there, a-a-and then—.”

Gaeul stands on her tiptoes and presses Wonyoung’s forehead against hers. Matching her in stature now, Gaeul steadies her breathing to help Wonyoung avoid slipping into another panic attack.

“You’re fine, Wonyoungie. You’re safe. We all are. We all will be,” Gaeul mutters, and for the first time today, Wonyoung starts to feel more relaxed. More calm. More steady and grounded. She feels the constant knot in her gut start to untangle itself. Feels the tension in her shoulders and knees start to pull away from her joints a little bit. Feels the air entering her lungs finding a more soothing cadence now. “Wherever she is, we will find her. Just like how I found Rei and Liz.”

Breaking free from the trance, Wonyoung gasps, but she’s immediately pacified by Gaeul’s smile. The older girl holds her hand and squeezes it steadily like a heartbeat. “Where … where are they?”

“Both of them are hiding somewhere in the lobby downstairs. I told them to wait for me while I sweep through the buildings. They should be alright—they have each other.”

“Then we should get going. Let’s regroup with the others, a-a-and then with them, then we can look for—.”

But as Wonyoung tugs at Gaeul to lead her out of the cul-de-sac of classrooms, her arm is pulled taut. “Unnie?”

“How were you able to save her?”

A haunting chill creeps up Wonyoung’s spine upon hearing that question.

“I overheard a bit of your conversation—about how Pharita got trapped,” Gaeul continues, eyes tracing a path that Wonyoung could visibly see: from the broken-down door, to the debris on the floor, to the now-upright vending machines lined up against the wall. “Those are incredibly heavy. Not only did you manage to get her out, but … you put the vending machines back in their proper places. Just like that.”

Wonyong can sense it. Gaeul’s suspicion. It wraps and coils around her, constricting against her chest and throat, leaving her unable to breathe once again.

“Tell me, Wonyoungie, is there something I should know?”

In a person’s life, there are about four to five different significant moments that they will come across. Moments where the simplest of decisions—wherein a single choice, event, or happenstance—can cause a divergence in the possible paths a person’s fate may be altered into. 

A moment is all it takes to change the way a story unfolds.

And this, for Jang Wonyoung, is one such moment.

She thinks about the film club. She thinks about the six of them smiling and laughing on their graduation trip to god-knows-where. She thinks about their future together—coffee dates across the street from work, reunions at hot springs on the holidays, attending each other’s bridal showers, and weddings, and gender-reveal parties, and housewarming celebrations. 

She thinks about how Yujin choked her with an unforeseen vigor on the rooftop of this very building. She thinks about the gruel and drool dripping from her growling and hungry jaw as she stared at Pharita like a midnight snack. She thinks about the undeniable mark seared into Yujin’s side—pulsating with a life of its own, like a beacon for trouble.

She thinks about being pinned against their basketball court back in high school. She thinks about how terrible the popcorn tasted during the second Angry Birds movie. She thinks of An Yujin—An Yujin and the dimples on her cheek as she smiles at her.

And then, she replies, “I helped Yujin lift it up, unnie. One machine at a time. I-I-It must have been an adrenaline rush or something but … somehow … somehow we managed to do it. Somehow we managed to save her.”

Gaeul does not seem to be assuaged by this in the slightest.

At first, Wonyoung fears she might need to embellish her story further to try and coax Gaeul into believing such a hideous lie, but when the older girl stops furrowing her knit brows together and drops the tension from her arms, the sigh of relief Wonyoung takes is punctuated by an affirming nod from her unnie.

“Ok, I just found it … weird. I’m glad you two managed to get Pharita out before anything could have happened to her,” Gaeul expresses, knuckles still wrapping around Wonyoung’s. “Alright, let’s go. Let’s meet with the others.”

Wonyoung couldn’t swallow her saliva for shit the entire time.

She couldn’t push down the gurgling guilt in her gut as they regroup with the others and decide to take the elevator together down to the ground floor. It’s faster that way, they say, and they should take advantage of the power still being on.

She couldn’t push down the bubbling blame behind her breath as they burst into the lobby and cause an entire scene. Zombies from all over the first floor hear their arrival and start to swarm them like moths to a flame. Zombies continue pouring down from the second and third floor as they hear and smell the remnants of fresh life. Zombies flocking from outdoors as they follow their undead brethren towards the source of their next meal.

She couldn’t push down the rippling regret that rendered her mind remorseful as they squeeze their way into the lounge area by the entrance. Rei and Liz readily opened the door for them, already having barricaded the walls and door in advance, and let them all through one by one.

This entire time, Wonyoung hasn’t said a word. This entire time, Wonyoung has bitten her tongue so hard. Hard enough to make it hurt.

Hard enough to make it bleed every last ounce of shame onto her lips.

For she’s very unsure about the decision she just made. The decision to not tell Gaeul the truth about Yujin. The decision to not reveal to anyone what her condition is.

The decision to keep Yujin her dirty little secret.

Once again.

I … I will fix this. I did this to her. She ended up this way because of me.

Jinjin ah … I’ll make it up to you. All of it …

I’ll find the cure.

I’ll fix you.

And as the rest of the girls settle in among the sofas and carpeted floorspace of the teacher’s lounge, it seems like Wonyoung’s decision is already going to be put to the test.

The moment she comes close to Yujin, who has just set Pharita down onto the couch, Yujin’s eyes widen, and the white comes out to swallow her vision whole again.

The exposed patch on her university jacket darkens as the mark beats and thrums.

The only thing Wonyoung hears from her best friend as she stares at her lips, which she only then realizes tastes of iron, is a softly uttered word.

“Hungry …”

“So hungry …”