After five minutes to catch their breath, the TDX Train plunged into its final tunnel. It wouldn't last long—barely a minute—but a minute was enough.
Sang-hwa whispered toward the restroom door, "Seong-kyeong, we're here!"
The door creaked open. His wife peeked out, eyes wide with relief. "I knew you'd come for us!"
He pressed a finger to his lips, signaling for silence. Seong-kyeong didn't rush out—she handed young Su-an forward first. Sang-hwa scooped the girl up and passed her into Seok-woo's arms.
"Daddy!" Su-an sobbed, burying her face into his chest. "You came!"
Seok-woo held her tight, voice thick. "I'm here, sweetheart. I'm not letting you go again."
Sang-hwa helped Seong-kyeong out next, then the last—an elderly woman with a twisted ankle. Stephen's voice was a low command: "Quiet. Move fast."
"Right. Let's go."
They crept forward, steps soft, hearts pounding. If they could just clear Car 13, they'd be home free.
But the old woman faltered, falling behind. Seong-kyeong whispered, "She's hurt, go help her."
Sang-hwa nodded, stripping off his armor and shoving it toward his wife.
She wrinkled her nose. "It stinks—I can't!"
"Wear it," he insisted. "Please."
She managed a faint smile. "Alright. Hurry."
He grinned, simple and sure, then went back for the old woman. "Sorry to slow you down," she murmured.
"It's fine."
Then—the train burst from the tunnel, flooding the car with light.
The old woman slipped, crashing to the blood-slick floor. The noise turned every dead head in Car 14.
Hell broke loose.
Stephen's heart slammed once, hard. "Run!" he barked. "I'll hold 'em!"
Seok-woo and the others bolted. Stephen turned, blade in hand, alone against the tide.
The glass door shattered.
"Come on, you bastards!" he snarled.
Sang-hwa yelled from up ahead, "Stephen! Move!"
"Go! All of you!" Stephen cut his way backward, step by bloody step. Bodies fell at his boots. His arms burned, lungs on fire.
"Stephen! Quick!" Sang-hwa cracked Car 7's door. "Now!"
The horde poured after him like a wave. He dove through the gap, Sang-hwa throwing his bulk against the door, holding it as the dead slammed into it.
The glass buckled. It wouldn't last.
Stephen was gasping, spent—but they were alive. For now.
But he knew—zombies were only half the danger.
"Open up!" Seok-woo pounded on Car 6's door. "We've got survivors! Kids!"
Inside Car 6, nobody moved.
Kim Jin-hee stomped her foot. "Are you all deaf? Open it! They're dying out there!" Most of the passengers looked away.
She grabbed the train attendant. "Sir, they're your passengers! You can't just lock them out!"
The man hesitated. Car 6 had been locked down tight: curtains drawn, doors strapped, food and drink enough to last days. Opening it risked everything.
A man in a suit barked from the corner, "No! Don't you dare! What if they're infected? We've got safety here—we keep it!" His name was Jin Changwoo, loud and smug. "I'm with the Department of Transportation! This is my call! Nobody opens that door!"
The attendant frowned. "There are elderly, a pregnant woman—"
"So what?" Jin snapped. "Zombies don't care. Why should we?" He turned to the crowd. "Anyone touches that door, they answer to me."
Dan, lounging nearby, added coldly, "He's right. This is survival, not charity. You, block the door."
His men obeyed. The fat Reincarnator shook his head weakly. "I… can't."
"Coward," Dan spat.
Kim Jin-hee shouted, "You call yourselves human? They're holding the line out there for you!" She lunged for the door, but Dan's men hauled her back.
Outside, Seok-woo's fists slammed against the locked door. Su-an cried, "Daddy, why won't they open it?"
"Maybe they don't hear us," he lied, voice breaking.
Seong-kyeong cursed through her tears. "My husband's out there fighting for them! And they just sit!"
The old woman whispered, "This is my fault…"
"Move." Stephen stepped forward, blade dripping black. His voice was low, worn—but heavy as a gunshot.
The others moved aside. They'd seen what this man could do.
Stephen raised his sword, muscles tensing.
And swung.