The truck was silent now, save for the whistling of the wind through the bullet holes in the side panel.
The old woman sat in the corner, her mink coat sodden and heavy. She held the birdcage on her lap, whispering to the canary in a language that sounded like a lullaby.
"His name is Jjizzeu," she said, her voice trembling. "He was my husband's. He hasn't sung since the sirens started."
"You risked our lives for a bird?" Mr. Kim yelled from the cabin, his voice cracking. "We almost died for a handful of feathers and a woman who can barely walk!"
"Shut up, Kim," Han-su said. He was sitting on the floor, his head between his knees, trying to get his breathing under control. "The bird stays. The woman stays."
He looked at the old woman. "What's your name?"
"Mrs. Cho," she said. She looked around the truck, her eyes taking in the children, the crates of luxury goods, and the blood-stained frying pan. "You're a delivery man."
"I was," Han-su said.
"No," she said, a small, knowing smile touching her lips. "You still are. You're just delivering something different now."
She reached into the pocket of her mink coat and pulled out a small, leather-bound book. "I was a librarian at the National Assembly. I stayed behind because I thought the books needed protecting. But the books don't scream when they're eaten. People do."
She handed the book to Han-su. It was a topographical map of the Seoul underground—sewers, subway lines, and emergency bunkers that weren't on any public GPS.
"The highway is a trap," Mrs. Cho said, her voice suddenly sharp and lucid. "The military didn't just abandon the checkpoints. They mined the bridges. If you try to cross the Gimpo Bridge to get to the coast, you'll trigger the pressure sensors. They're trying to keep the infection from spreading to the islands."
Han-su looked at the map. His plan to follow the highway was dead. If the bridges were mined, the truck was a liability.
"There's a maintenance tunnel," Mrs. Cho pointed to a spot near the Incheon border. "It was built for the 1988 Olympics. It runs under the riverbed. It's wide enough for a vehicle, but it's been sealed for twenty years."
"If it's sealed, how do we get in?" Min-ah asked.
"You have a truck full of 'luxury goods,'" the old woman said. "In the old world, people ordered things they didn't need. But in the crate behind the girl... there is a box of industrial thermite meant for a rail-repair contract."
Han-su turned. He looked at the crate Ji-young was sitting on. He hadn't opened it yet.
He moved over and pried the lid open.
Inside were six canisters of grey powder and magnesium strips. Enough to melt through a foot of solid steel.
The "hobbyist" hadn't been a hobbyist. The person who had ordered these packages had been a survivalist, or perhaps a saboteur. Either way, they had just given Han-su the keys to the city.
"We're not going over the river," Han-su said, looking at the map. "We're going under it."
Survival Status: Volume 2, Part 3
New Survivor: Mrs. Cho (Librarian/Cartographer).
New Asset: Jjizzeu (The Canary), National Assembly Under-Map, Industrial Thermite.
Current Objective: Locate the 1988 Olympic Maintenance Tunnel entrance.