we piled up the bricks we've forgotten (and tore them back down)

 

Irises

 

Yerim is nineteen-years-old, sitting in a café when the epidemic hits. Truth be told, she doesn’t remember much of what had happened that day— there had been an earthquake, part of the roof caved in, and she’d passed out.

 

She wakes up under the carnage, and when she’s finally crawled her way out, she finds herself alone in the remnants of the café— everyone else must have made it out and assumed her dead. And glancing around the desolate café, still intact despite a pile of wreckage that rose all the way to the ceiling, Yerim can tell from the silence that she's safe in here.

 

But outside the walls, she can see the risen dead, stumbling out and around the streets. Zombies. The world has gone to hell.

 

Perhaps it was her hammering heart that awoke the dead.

 

Yerim couldn’t bring herself to leave the café, her little safe haven. So she trudged her way into the back rooms, surveying the supplies she had left. The owners must’ve gotten out as soon as possible (or died), judging by all the food left behind.

 

And Yerim might be afraid, but she’s smart. Smart enough to not fail AP Physics C. Smart enough to deal with her homophobic aunt at last year’s Christmas dinner. And surely, smart enough to stay alive for long enough. So with shaking hands, she takes count of the food, portioning it, trying to see how long she could survive, and tries not to think of when she might run out.

 

That is, under the assumption that the zombies lurking outside don’t manage to find their way in.

 

—

 

Irises

 

Or, maybe she doesn’t need to wait for the zombies to break in.

 

It’s been about a week, Yerim thinks (she’s been cutting tally marks into one of the still-in-tact tables), since she’s woken up.

 

And that’s when the glass of the back door gets shattered.

 

Yerim feels her heart leap out of her chest and get ejected from the atmosphere, but that’s right before she comes to her senses and bites her own hand to muffle her scream. She winces in pain as she pulls away and sees the dented mark, not enough to draw blood, but damn that hurt.

 

She scurries over to the kitchen area and grabs the biggest knife she can find.

 

“They’re just zombies... they’re already dead,” Yerim mutters to herself, hand shaking violently. “You can do this.”

 

Then slowly, she creeps silently back over to the front area, only to stop in her tracks when a voice sounds from behind her.

 

“You’re not going to slay any zombies with that stance.”

 

—

 

Acacias

 

Seulgi only hears the start of the scream when she jumps out of her sports car and tears down the barren road on her own two feet. Even from a distance, she can see the fear in the girl's eyes as the two men grapple to get her under wraps by the side of their black van. One of them wrings a rough hand over the girl's mouth to muffle her cry for help, and the boiling pit of rage in Seulgi's stomach overflows.

 

"What do you think you're doing?!" Seulgi roars as she draws near, and the men notice her with a violent start. She growls as they try to shove the girl back into the van, the captive shrieking in an effort to resist, tears pouring from her eyes.

 

Seulgi slips a hand into the deep pocket of her coat.

 

A second later, a knife hits its mark with a deadly accuracy, embedding itself into the metal lining of the black van, only an inch away from one of the men's face.

 

Oh, the way his eyes bug out in horror is so very rewarding.

 

She reaches the scuffle in only two more strides, closing the distance with a scary grace and poise of a skilled killer— not entirely wrong, to be quite honest. Seulgi's probably had the most experience slaying zombies out of everyone, ever since the epidemic hit and the world would never be the same.

 

She rips out her knife from where it's dug deep into the metal, swiftly transitioning to hit one of the men with the hard end of the knife's handle— she's not here to take human lives, that's not up her alley. But there's nothing stopping Seulgi from seriously maiming these abusers.

 

She glares at the form of the man stumbling back, only to turn her hard look on his counterpart, still restraining the girl in his grasp, though there's a noticeable amount of pain stricken in his gaze.

 

"Let go of her." Seulgi keeps her voice low, her warning falling heavily onto the man's shoulders like an anvil. He shivers under her gaze, trembling at the glint in her eyes. He's about to shake his head, Seulgi can tell. But she can hear the way his captive whimpers, how a sob is moments away from escaping her lips, and Seulgi is mad.

 

"Just try to refuse me," she threatens, deftly twirling her knife with one hand, before reaching into her other pocket and drawing out its twin. "We'll see how far it'll get you." Out of the corner of her eye, she spots the man she'd knocked down struggling to get up, and she quickly points a knife his way. "Don't get up. Don't you dare. Give her to me. This instant."

 

—

 

Orchids

 

Joy decides really quickly that the girl in front of her is adorable, with her tussed up, long hair and her gray hoodie. Joy smirks at the sight of her creeping forward, her back to Joy, wielding a ridiculously large knife.

 

It’s clear that this girl has never left this café since the outbreak.

 

“You’re not going to slay any zombies with that stance,” Joy remarks, chuckling at the way the younger girl stiffens before slowly turning around to look up at Joy. “Hi there.”

 

“Are you going to kill me, u-unnie?” is the first thing that exists the girl’s lips, and the corner of Joy’s mouth quirks up in amusement.

 

"Do you want me to kill you?"

 

A quick shake of the girl's head.

 

Adorable, Joy thinks to herself.

 

"Good, I didn't want to kill you anyway," she voices aloud, and a wave of pity washes through her body as the girl in front of her visibly relaxes, slumping to the ground and letting the large knife clutter to the floor beside her. She must've been really scared, Joy reasons.

 

"What's your name, kid?"

 

"Kim Yerim," the younger girl stutters.

 

"Yerim," Joy murmurs. It's a nice name— cute name for a cute girl. The only problem is that now, during these times, a cute name simply won't do out there. "I'm going to call you Yeri, then. Is that alright with you? There aren't just zombies lurking around outside, there are some bad people too. Don't tell anyone your real name, okay?"

 

Yeri nods, silently obedient.

 

"My name is Joy," Joy continues, gentler this time around. "That's not my real name, but that's what I go by."

 

"Joy," Yeri repeats, testing out the way it rolls off the tongue. "Okay."

 

"You know you can't stay in here forever, right?"

 

"I know..." Yeri hangs her head, and Joy can see the conflict churning through her brain. "I’m going to run out of food eventually."

 

“I’ll be in the area for a little while.” Joy’s mouth runs without her permission, gushing, flowing. She almost wants it to stop. This isn’t her place. “Maybe I could bring you more supplies.”

 

Yeri bites her lip, hides her eyes beneath her bangs. “I couldn’t ask you to do something like that for me. I hardly know you.”

 

"So come with me," Joy says, and immediately wants to smack her head against the nearest wall. Why the hell did she just ask that? Another person means another mouth to feed. Another person means that she'll need to provide ample protection. Another person means she's responsible for yet another life form. There are a few too many cons for having another person.

 

“We can get to know each other,” she says, and then she’s out in open terrain. No cover, no weapon, no plan. Who even knows what kinds of pros. She can’t take back her words now. What the hell is she doing?

 

And yet Joy can't imagine herself leaving Yeri alone, in this dilapidated, skewed building crumbling inwards, starving herself to death. What a sad, pitiful way to go.

 

"Come with me," she repeats to Yeri, whose eyes go wide.

 

Joy waits patiently as Yeri mulls over her options, only for a smile to blossom despite her best will when then younger girl slowly nods.

 

—

 

Peonies

 

Irene finds herself being shoved into a protective embrace, a pair of reassuringly strong arms finding their way around her shoulders, and she wants to cry at the way this girl holds her tight to her chest.

 

Except that Irene no longer has any tears to cry; they'd all been wasted on other things, when everything had seemed so hopeless over the past few days, holed up in the back of that van. So she settles for sniffling into her savior's chest instead.

 

She doesn't look back at those men, doesn't try to see their bruised faces as they haul themselves into their van – a van with one less passenger now – and start the engine. The other girl is silent for a few moments, and Irene imagines her savior's stoic face watching her two captors warily, wanting to completely make sure that they were truly leaving before making any more movements.

 

Irene can't tell how long they've been standing there before she hears the van rev up and drive away, a gust of wind blowing her hair in its wake. She still doesn't look up. She notices how the grip on her shoulders hasn't let up, only loosened slightly.

 

"Are you okay?" A warm voice asks into Irene's ear, so different from the cold voice that had been threatening the two men from before. If Irene still had the tears to spill, this is the part where they'd be pouring.

 

The voice backtracks, and Irene feels the taller girl shake her head.

 

"What am I saying? Of course you're not okay, those men just— ugh." The disgust in the girl's voice makes Irene giggle a little. "I'm sorry, I wish I could've stopped them sooner. But really, how are you?"

 

"Much better," Irene says shyly, finally mustering up the will to talk. She looks up and meets the gaze of the girl who had saved her— had she been this beautiful when she'd thrown the knife at that man's head? Irene hadn't noticed her soft features, accented beautiful by a pair of sharp eyes, not unlike a cat or fox's.

 

"Thank you so much for saving me," Irene whispers, her voice breaking from days of no use. The thought makes her head hurt. Just a few minutes ago, she's still been tied up in the back of that van...

 

Her arms start shaking again, and alarm floods the other girl's features.

 

"Oh, please don't cry!" Her savior's lower tone rises in genuinely concerned panic, and Irene is struck by the gap between this person and the one who had sprinted to reach her. She feels her cheek get cupped by a warm hand, and the taller girl hushes her soothingly. Irene had thought she'd cried herself dry, but can she recognize her vision blurring.

 

"I- I thought," Irene hiccups, "I thought I was all out of tears… I-I don’t know what they wanted but-"

 

"Shhh," the other girl says again, shooting Irene the smallest of smiles. Irene feels her heart rate skid and fall flat on its face in nerves. "Please, you're safe now, I promise. My name is Seulgi. I'm... sort of the leader of a survival group really close by. Will you allow me to bring you there? My friend is a doctor, and she can look you over."

 

In the back of Irene's hazy mind, still worn out from all of the excitement, she absently thinks about how interesting it is that this stranger asked for permission.

 

She nods without a further thought.

 

"Yes... I think I'd like that," she tells Seulgi quietly, huddling closer to the taller girl. "My name is Irene. Thank you for saving me, Seulgi. You could have gotten hurt, but you still came and helped me."

 

"You were hurt, and screaming, and I was so angry..." Seulgi trails off, and Irene vaguely registers Seulgi leading her away from the site of the scuffle. "I would never forgive myself if I just stood by."

 

—

 

Orchids

 

"Is this the place?" Joy asks as she calms the revving of her motorcycle engine. She looks at the small house, located just on the outskirts of the city, not too far from the high school. It was a Wednesday when the outbreak occurred— Yeri must have been studying in that café when the earthquake happened. Now, with her tangled hair and her dusty hoodie, Joy has a hard time imagining Yeri as a regular high school student.

 

Yeri nods against Joy's back, relaxing her hold on the older girl's stomach and sitting up straight to stare at the house pensively.

 

"It's quiet," she observes.

 

"It is," Joy agrees. "Quiet is good. It means that there aren't any zombies crawling around inside. We can go in and get some stuff, if you'd like."

 

"My family's not inside, are they?" It sounds less like a question and more like a statement.

 

Joy frowns, hearing the wistful tone. "No, they're definitely not. They probably escaped when the evacuation order was issued." Or they were bitten too.

 

"I hope so." Yeri bites her lip, hopping off the bike and tentatively stepping towards the house. She pauses, hesitating before looking back at Joy. "Um, would you mind...?"

 

Joy chuckles and shakes her head, climbing off and joining Yeri on the walkway up to the house. She shoulders her shotgun. "Not at all. Let's go find you some clean clothes. You look awful!"

 

"I do not!" Yeri protests, but there's a light dancing in her eyes that hadn't been there before.

 

"How old are you?" Joy muses playfully, pushing the door open. "Eighteen? Wow, a senior in high school who still hasn't grown out of her hoodie phase!"

 

"I'm nineteen! And it caught me on a bad day!" Yeri pouts, leading them down hallways and up a flight of stairs. "I don't usually wear hoodies, I swear! I was studying for an exam so I chose comfortable clothes, that's all, and— oh god."

 

"Well, this is a good sign," Joy says, noting all the empty drawers and barren closet space, obviously having been taken care of by people who had been careful deliberately. "Your house definitely doesn't look like it was raided – there would be a hell of a lot more destruction. I think your parents took all of your clothes as they were preparing for evacuation. They must have assumed that you were leaving the city too."

 

"So they probably made it out," Yeri breathes in relief. "That's good."

 

"Definitely," Joy nods. "But, the bad news is now you've got no better wardrobe." She laughs at the annoyed way Yeri scrunches her nose. "C'mon, then. That backpack in the corner over there? Take it. We're gonna get you new clothes."

 

—

 

Peonies

 

When Seulgi had mentioned being the leader of a survival group, Irene had pictured a small, run-down building, maybe a barricade made out of unused furniture. Rather, something straight out of a dystopian teen movie.

 

What she hadn't expected was for Seulgi to drive them through the iron gates of a recently-abandoned resort. Irene recognizes the name of the place – The Red Summer – as one of the heavily advertised expensive resorts that had ads that played at least three times every hour on TV.

 

"You look surprised," Seulgi notes satisfactorily, briefly looking away from the road behind her sports car's steering wheel and chancing a glance at Irene.

 

Irene shakes her head in awe. "I never imagined that humanity would flee to a luxury resort when the living dead hit us."

 

Seulgi chuckles, shrugging, and Irene feels something tug at her heart. She remembers this scene, so familiar to her. She remembers being driven down along the coast in his convertible, cruising with her ex-fiancé, back when she had loved him. Being like this with Seulgi, even after such hardship, almost feels normal for one reason or another. And Seulgi looks like the laid-back kind of calm; not like the eerie calm from earlier.

 

"Well, we haven't really occupied the whole thing," the younger of the two says. "There's not enough of us for that. We all just live in the main three buildings towards the center of the complex. The rest of the resort is very helpful for resources, although we've already searched the place clear for food— all we've found has been stored away. We're also a bit short on weapons."

 

"Is that what you were doing before you found me?" Irene asks as Seulgi flicks on the turn signal before making a right turn. There's really no reason to; there's no one else on the road, no police to catch her. Irene momentarily wonders if this is Seulgi's way of keeping her humanity.

 

"No, surprisingly," Seulgi admits sheepishly, rubbing the back of her head almost in shame. "I'd wanted a bit of time to myself, so I went for a drive. I love my friends dearly, but everyone needs a bit of alone time."

 

"Were you worried that zombies would find you?" Irene's a bit worried herself now, not knowing whether Seulgi always puts herself in life-endangering situations.

 

"This baby has out-sped zombies and saved my behind on so many occasions," Seulgi grins, and Irene cracks a smile at that. "I would've been able to bolt in the opposite direction lightning fast. But don't worry, I don't make it a habit to throw myself into the thick of things too often— I only do that when I think the outcome is worth it."

 

Irene opens and closes like a fish out of water at Seulgi's words, too stunned to conjure up a reasonable response. 'Worth it,' Seulgi had said. Irene had been worth it. Irene had been worth saving. The very thought makes her want to smile, no matter how grim the world.

 

"Thank you," is all she manages to say in the very end, right as Seulgi signals again and pulls into an empty parking space, next to a couple other cars lined up in front of what Irene can only assume is the main building. "Thank you for doing what you did. Thank you for saving me."

 

Seulgi flashes her a charming smile, her eyes upturning in the cutest of ways, and Irene is struck at how many different facets there are to this girl.

 

"Of course, Irene. You are so worth it."

 

—

 

Irises

 

The first time Yeri sees Joy fight zombies, it's after they've left her old house and are on the way to an abandoned mall.

 

Yeri freezes at the sight of the five zombies stumbling around in the middle of the road, tightening her hold around Joy's midriff.

 

"Joy," she says quietly, absolutely paralyzed.

 

"I'm going to need you to let go, Yeri," Joy replies in amusement. "I can't deal with these things if you're latched onto me."

 

So Yeri lets go, albeit reluctantly.

 

"Be careful," she cautions, and Joy smirks but says nothing as she nonchalantly hops off the motorcycle and struts over to the group of the undead. Uh oh. Yeri should've known that Joy was a daredevil.

 

She braces herself for gore, but what Yeri sees instead is the most beautiful storm of violence that she's ever witnessed. A series of dodges, a knife to the neck, and five gunshots ring through the air— just five. Joy doesn't miss. She's a natural— that goes without saying. It's as if the long-haired girl had been born for this new, desolate world reeking of true monsters.

 

And perhaps only three minutes have gone by before a still-smirking Joy returns to Yeri and the bike, achievement shining on her face.

 

"How was that for a show?" The older girl asks.

 

"Pretty badass," Yeri admits in amazement. Joy definitely deserves her leather biker jacket of badassery. "Can you... teach me how to use one of those?" She points to Joy's shotgun.

 

Joy smiles far too tenderly for a conversation about guns. "Sure thing, Yeri. Anything for you. I'll teach you how to survive."

 

But Yeri wants more than that. She wants to be like Joy— not only surviving, but thriving.

 

—

 

Acacias

 

Seulgi watches attentively as Wendy, their group's head doctor, reviews the notes she'd taken during the physical examination, glancing Irene up and down once more before breaking out into a smile.

 

"You're in flawless condition, Irene-ssi," Wendy praises, and both Irene and Seulgi visibly relax at the admission. "The rope burns you received from your time as a captive are healing well, and they should be gone in a week's time."

 

"That's great," Irene breathes, thankfulness written all over her face as she absently rubs at the rough patches of skin around her wrists.

 

"Are you sure I can't hunt those bastards down?" Seulgi presses, taking note of the way Irene uncomfortably continues to shift anxiously, as if not entirely sure if she's really with them or not. Seulgi's heart aches at the thought of what would've happened if she'd failed to save Irene, or if Irene had not managed to get out of the van in the first place. In the hours that they'd known each other, Seulgi can't help but feel close to the older girl, almost responsible for her.

 

Irene laughs, the sound light and girlish, and both Seulgi and Wendy crack smiles at the chiming sound.

 

"You shouldn't waste your time, Seulgi," Irene says through soft giggles. "You could've killed them earlier, right?" Well, she's not wrong. "You must've spared them for some unforeseen reason— something told you to go easy on them." Irene tilts her head in consideration. "The real question is when I'll be ready to make myself useful."

 

“Oh?” Seulgi raises an eyebrow, the corner of her lips quirked up. It wasn’t that she had been expecting for Irene to simply be a resident— everyone has a place of usefulness here. She just hadn’t expected it so soon. “Well, that depends. Any preference?”

 

“Anything related to running and endurance?” A pause. “Or cooking. I can do that too.”

 

Seulgi smirks. “I’m sure we can find something here for you.”

 

—

 

Orchids

 

Joy leans up against the nearby wall, watching Yeri gape in awe as the younger girl dances through the aisles of abandoned clothes like a deer poking its head up through a field of tall grass.

 

“They just left all of this here?!” Yeri exclaims from a few rows down, standing on her tiptoes in order to see over the racks of wardrobe. She holds a sweater up, draping it over her head and pretending that it’s a bonnet, sticking her tongue out at Joy.

 

The older girl chuckles as Yeri disappears into yet another aisle. She can see the clothes hangers shift around as Yeri pulls a few shirts off of the racks. “Yup, there hasn’t been anyone here besides a few gangs or loners who refused to abide with the evacuation order. There was no time to force any of us out of the city, so they left us to do whatever we want.”

 

“Why did you stay?” The younger girl asks a minute later, walking up to Joy with an oversized, off-shoulder rainbow sweater on, the words Love sees no color stitched onto the front.

 

Joy’s eyes widen slightly at her choice of clothing but doesn’t comment, instead choosing to answer Yeri’s inquiry with a forced shrug.

 

“I’m not really sure why I stayed, to be quite honest,” Joy admits. “There was just something that told me to not hop onto the back of those trucks. They said that they were going to take us somewhere ‘safe,’ and yet I couldn’t picture myself willingly climbing into those claustrophobic rooms on wheels…” Joy trails off, then shakes her head, trying to clear her thoughts.

 

“Are you good, kid? Get everything you need?” she asks Yeri, who nods silently while shouldering her now full duffle bag, as though pondering Joy’s admission.

 

Joy frowns as they make their way out of the mall, back to where she’d tied up her motorcycle outside. She remembers the way the police and government officials had been hustling the citizens to the trucks, packing them into the back like cargo to be delivered. She’d taken one look at the scene before turning tail and running. She’d decided to take her chances with the fast approaching risen dead, and she’s yet to regret her decision.

 

“You adapted well,” Yeri says as they step into the bright sunlight after a quick survey to make sure there were no zombies around. Joy makes a small grunt in response.

 

The taller girl hops onto the bike, and Yeri climbs on behind her, wrapping her arms securely around Joy’s waist. Instinctively, Joy touches one of Yeri’s hands with the lightest of feather light taps before reaching for the ignition.

 

“What keeps you going?”

 

Joy is so caught off guard by the question that for a split second, she’s actually rendered speechless. Then, she tips her head back and laughs, the sound bright and light— a sound that sounds much more feminine than it deserves to be.

 

(Yeri’s cheeks get red at the sound. She wants to hear Joy laugh more. Joy’s laugh is human, and Joy’s the first human that Yeri’s seen in a while.)

 

“Yeri, this,” Joy says, sticking up her index finger with her left hand and revving up the engine with her left hand. She points up at the blue, blue sky above them and smirks, “is all that matters. As long as I can see the sky above me. It’s enough, for now.”

 

—

 

Peonies

 

If there’s something that Irene finds utterly fascinating, it’s the way that Seulgi just has so many vastly different sides to her, and Irene has somehow managed to witness only a few of them by the time the younger girl is touring her around the premises.

 

For example, she learns that Seulgi is genuinely smart.

 

“Survivors with best intentions are to be treasured,” Seulgi is explaining as they pass by the communications center, located on the second floor of the center building, directly next to the fire exit— for easy evacuation in emergencies, Seulgi had said earlier. “And we can do our best while working together, y’know, since human beings are self-interested individuals and whatnot. It only makes logical sense that everyone should work together to make the most of the situation.”

 

Irene tilts her head, brow furrowing in slight confusion. “I don’t mean to argue, I’m just trying to understand— when I think of a ‘self-interested individual,’ I think of someone who thinks that they can do everything on their own, for only themselves, which isn’t exactly the collaborative type.”

 

“Ah,” Seulgi nods in understanding, crossing her arms and biting the inside of her cheek thoughtfully. “Well, let’s think about it this way: imagine a world where only you and I exist.”

 

It’s almost scary to Irene how that kind of world isn’t very hard to imagine.

 

“So let’s say that you’re really good at hunting deer,” Seulgi says, laying out the groundwork. “And you’re okay at fishing. You only have twelve hours to do both, since you’re providing for only yourself. Sensibly, you’d spend six hours hunting, and six hours fishing, right?”

 

“Right,” Irene agrees, running through the approximate math in her head. “I’d have a good amount of deer, but not a lot of fish.”

 

“That’s correct,” Seulgi confirms. “So, if I was great at fishing, but only okay at hunting, my result would be the opposite, right? I’d have plenty of fish, but not a lot of deer. This is the problem when you only look out for yourself— sure, you might have an excess of one thing, but you’re also severely lacking in another area.”

 

“Then…” Irene chews on her bottom lip, and suddenly the concept hits her. “Then that’s why it’s better to work with other people, especially as a self-interested individual. If you focused solely on fishing, and I focused solely on hunting, then together, we would have more fish and deer combined than we could ever have on our own— the benefit of collaboration and trade. The self-interested individual benefits more from working with others.”

 

“Precisely!” Seulgi exclaims, happily clapping her hands together in approval. She beams at Irene, the whites of her teeth gleaming in the afternoon sunlight.

 

“Wait,” Irene frowns, blinking. “This is a basic concept of economics.”

 

And then Seulgi’s grinning.

 

“Clever girl,” she praises, and Irene flushes. “I knew you were worth it! But yes, that’s one hundred percent correct,” Seulgi says with a shrug. “Of course, there’s moral reasons as well, but you can’t really argue with straight up logic. If you present people with hard arguments, like economic theory, they’re more likely to be more agreeable— if you present your point in a reasonable way, that is.”

 

“It’s nice to know you wanted to use me for my intellectual capacities,” Irene shoots back playfully. “So, speaking of economic theory, have you thought about the opportunity cost of saving me?”

 

“You mean a benefit that I could’ve received, but gave up, in order to save you?” Seulgi inquires, and Irene smirks. Who knew that the badass Seulgi could be such a nerd, knowing terms like opportunity cost?

 

Irene bobs her head in a nod.

 

Seulgi shrugs, flashing Irene a quick smile.

 

“Irene, sometimes it’s just not worth calculating the opportunity cost. Sometimes, people are just worth it.”

 

—

 

Irises

 

“You don’t exactly look like a gun type of person,” Joy mentions as they stand in the middle of her extensive arsenal of weapons. “But, you don’t exactly look like a short-range type of person either. Hmmm…”

 

When Joy first brought Yeri back to the hotel that the older girl had taken over – she’d fought her way to the top, demolished a nearby gang, and demanded that they give her the whole hotel in exchange for her to lay off her attack – Yeri had been in awe. Throughout the day, Joy had only managed to cement her position as Certified Badass.

 

“But I need something to protect myself with,” Yeri says insistently from where she’s located a safe distance behind Joy as the taller girl sorts through her widespread collection of weapons of all kinds— guns, knives, swords, axes, you name it.

 

With her back to Yeri, Joy nods, tossing aside another knife. “That, you do. I mean, I’m fine with doing all the fighting— I don’t mind doing all the dirty work. But I can’t risk leaving you unarmed.”

 

Yeri feels something stirring within her, deep down in the pit of her stomach. It’s a dangerous feeling; this feeling of being wanted and protected. For all she knows, Joy can be doing this out of complete pity, and yet, something tells Yeri that pity isn’t the means behind Joy’s actions.

 

It’s all too touching for a zombie apocalypse.

 

“Aha!” Joy grins, finally standing up straight. She whirls around, and Yeri’s eyes go wide at the sight of the shiny crossbow in the older girl’s hands. “Now this looks like the perfect fit for you, Miss Yeri.”

 

—

 

Orchids

 

Surprisingly, it’s a full week later – a full week of weapon lessons for Yeri and her crossbow training, a full week of Yeri following Joy around the city, gathering supplies for who knows what, a full week of learning how to survive – when Yeri finally pops the big question after hauling in a bag of food into the hotel building that Joy had staked claim on.

 

(Joy’s a big name around these parts, as Yeri finds out during their first run-in with another gang full of people who had chosen not to leave. Yeri calls it a “run-in,” but it’s more like the members of the opposing gang saw Joy and ran as fast as they can in the opposite direction.)

 

“Why do you have so many weapons stored, Joy?”

 

“It’s a long story,” Joy says with a shrug, settling down on one end of the hotel’s luxurious couches.

 

Yeri follows suit, sitting down on the other end. She places her hands on her lap, leaning forward eagerly. “Joy, we’re in the middle of a zombie apocalypse. I think we have the time.”

 

The older girl chuckles, shrugging in consent. “Fair point.” She reclines back onto the arm of the couch, closing her eyes briefly before looking up to the ceiling. “You want the whole story?” She doesn’t even wait to see Yeri’s nod. “My ex-girlfriend – broken up on amicable terms – was taking a road-trip to the other side of the country a few weeks before the outbreak. She was over there, away from home, when the world came crashing down.”

 

“Oh no,” Yeri murmurs, shaking her head sadly. “Is she okay?”

 

Joy nods, still not making eye-contact with her. “Yeah, she is. All cell phone-signal might have gone to now, but for a good single week, the cell-towers were working. She called me – she was worried about me, of course she was – but she told me that she was alive, and she’d joined a group of survivors who hadn’t evacuated. She was a doctor, you see. She and her friends had started looking for a cure. Can you believe it? A real cure to this madness!”

 

She takes a deep breath. “She asked for me to join her, somehow. To bring weapons, food, clothes— anything that could help with survival. I—” Joy shrugs helplessly, and Yeri thinks that this is the closest she’s seen to sadness on her face. “I never decided whether I should try or not— she’s so far away, and I don’t know if I can make it.

 

“That’s not to say I haven’t thought about it though. I kept collecting these weapons, remembering her words, her asking me to join her. It gets lonely sometimes,” another shrug, but then Joy’s smiling at Yeri, and the younger girl feels something warm start glowing in her chest. “But I’ve got you now, Yeri.”

 

“You’re not lonely anymore?” Yeri presses hopefully. The glowing feeling expands when Joy chuckles, leans forward to ruffle Yeri’s hair.

 

“I’m not lonely anymore.”

 

—

 

Peonies

 

A few days later, Irene is seated in Wendy’s office, having a casual conversation with the other girl, when her first action as a member of the group comes into play.

 

The young doctor had been bored in her office when Irene had been passing by, and, seeing how Wendy looked in need of company, Irene had tentatively knocked on her door in an attempt to “engage with caution.” It turned out, however, that caution wasn’t needed when it came to Wendy— the girl was a social butterfly who just so happened to miss her girlfriend terribly.

 

“Eunji’s a runner,” Wendy tells her, and Irene nods, forming a small ‘o’ in acknowledgement.

 

According to Seulgi and multiple others, being a runner was the hardest job among them all— only the bravest, most durable, and most willing ever became runners, and if they did, it was always voluntary. Runners were the ones who went on supply runs to distant vacant towns, the ones who leapt to the rescue of wanderers, the ones who pillaged and sought salvation on the nearby gangs who remained around only to wreak havoc.

 

“She’s currently out on a long supply run that doubles as a largescale patrol,” the doctor continues, slightly deflating at the admission. Irene reaches out to pat Wendy’s shoulder. It’s only natural that she misses and worries about Eunji greatly.

 

Suddenly, the office door bangs open, and Seulgi barges in, panting heavily.

 

“You’re both here,” Seulgi says in a shaky exhale, looking like she’d just run a mile. “Good.”

 

“Seul,” Irene murmurs, hastily getting up from her chair and touching Seulgi’s hand comfortingly. “What’s wrong?”

 

“You said a few days ago that you wanted something to do with running and endurance, yeah?” Seulgi’s eyes almost look apologetic. “How would you feel about becoming a runner? Because we need all the help we can get at the moment.”

 

And then Seulgi’s not even looking at her, but Irene still feels the hairs on her skin rising at the stricken expression Seulgi gives Wendy, shivering at the way Wendy’s face pales and numbs.

 

“Chorong’s group got ambushed just recently,” Seulgi says lowly. Wendy looks ready to pass out, looking as white as a sheet. “Eunji is among them. They need reinforcements. Now.”

 

—

 

Orchids

 

Joy brings Yeri close and cradles the younger girl to her chest after Yeri finally makes her first kill.

 

There’d been too many of them. All they’d wanted was to get back home, and “home” had just so happened to be on the other side of an entire hoard.

 

“Stand back,” Joy had murmured into Yeri’s ear, slipping off the bike and giving her shoulder a squeeze. “I’ll take care of them, okay?”

 

No matter how much training she’d given Yeri, Joy would never want to burden her in that way. She hadn’t been lying when she’d said that she was fine doing all the dirty work.

 

Joy had made quick work of most of the hoard, bullets ringing through the air, swarm precise clean.

Yet she hadn’t acknowledged the one that had snuck up behind her, throwing its arms around her neck and tugging her towards the center of the earth. A strangled scream had left , hoarse and rough and Joy could feel the air leaving her lungs—

 

—until it all rushed back when the arms suddenly retracted and the body fell to the ground. Joy had gasped for breath, scrambling away from the limp, bloody body, rushing up to her feet. She’d done a quick survey of her surroundings; they were all dead. She’d spotted the arrow lodged into one, spun around and saw her.

 

Yeri stood away from the bike, her crossbow still poised from shooting shooting. She had stared at Joy through her scope for a fleeting moment, before the crossbow dropped from her grasp and she fell to her knees, eyes blank as she looked to the ground.

 

Joy had never ran faster in her life as she barreled into Yeri’s smaller frame, crushing her into a hug.

 

“Yeri...”

 

“I was so scared.” Yeri’s voice comes out muffled as she mumbles into Joy’s leather jacket. “I was so scared. I thought you were going to die. I thought- I thought-”

 

“Shhh,” Joy soothes, letting her lips lightly touch the top of Yeri’s head. “I’m okay. I’m okay. You did so well, Yeri, you did so well. I’m so proud of you for acting, and I’m so sorry I wasn’t more careful.”

 

“Please be more careful,” Yeri whispers, and Joy nods, burying her face into Yeri’s soft hair, tangling her fingers into her long locks.

 

“I will,” Joy vows. “You won’t have to worry about me again.”

 

“I didn’t say that,” Yeri scolds weakly. “I’m going to take care of you too. I’m not going to be your burden, Joy.”

 

The taller girl pulls away briefly, holding Yeri at arm’s length, gazing at her sadly.

 

“You don’t have to—”

 

“I want to,” Yeri insists, pushing through Joy’s hold and encircling her arms around Joy’s waist, desperate for contact. “This is my promise. I will look after you too. Please let me have this?”

 

Joy nods again, momentarily squeezing the smaller girl.

 

“Anything for you.”

 

“Let’s go home now?”

 

“Let’s go home.”

 

—

 

Acacias

 

On the outcrop overlooking the target warehouse, Seulgi kneels down into the dirt, frowning as the footprints left behind, still fresh. A large, shallow indent in the earth still remains from what must have been hours ago.

 

“Eunji was here,” the leader says, brushing herself off and standing up. Behind her, Irene shifts from where she had been keeping watch. “She’s a sniper, so she was probably stationed out at this outcrop. So when the ambush happened...”

 

“She must have run in as a last resort attempt at trying to save her friends,” Irene finishes. The older girl had been quietly in thought the entire ride here, arriving in Seulgi’s sports car a few minutes before the rest of Seulgi’s runners. “Wendy is probably worried out of her mind.”

 

“She definitely is,” Seulgi agrees, running a distressed hand through her hair at the mental image of her close friend pacing impatiently around her office. “The members of Chorong’s team are some of our most experienced runners— before the outbreak, they’d all been together on a relay team at college. They’re my friends too, Eunji especially, ever since she’d gotten with Wendy...”

 

There’s some noise behind them as two more trucks pull up.

 

“Seulgi!” Moonbyul calls hopping out of one of the driver’s seat while deftly spinning a pistol around a finger as she approaches. The other girls start climbing out as well. “There’s a lot of gang members down there. Sowon and the others are still stationed nearby— they’re the ones who sent the distress.”

 

“Right,” Seulgi nods slowly. She feels a stirring to her right, and a brief glance is more than enough to let her know that Irene has taken position at her shoulder, pressing up against her. It’s comforting amidst the stressing atmosphere, and Seulgi relishes in the simple touch.

 

“Has Sowon notified us of any breaches in their defense?” Irene asks quietly, almost hesitant to exert any authority.

 

Moonbyul casts Seulgi an understanding glance, grinning at the young leader.

 

“You’ve found a good one, Seul,” the older girl chuckles, and Seulgi breaks out into a startled cough, hitting her chest with a fist at the sudden quip. Meanwhile, Moonbyul winks at Irene’s, whose face turns a lovely shade of red, before continuing the relay of information. “Sowon says that they don’t look like they have a strategy, really. There’s just a lot of them, and their ‘patrol patterns,’ if you can even call them that, are sporadic, since they jump at anything that moves.”

 

“Great!” Seulgi enthuses. “Okay, so we run in, guns blazing, and then we take back our friends and get out. Sound good?”

 

Moonbyul smirks. “Received and read. Let’s do this!”

 

“Is this another opportunity cost-type of choice?” Irene asks breathlessly as she and Seulgi race towards the trucks to grab a weapon or two.

 

Seulgi shrugs, picking out her signature dual knives before handing a rifle to Irene, which the older girl shoulders.

 

“I guess you can say so, yes? I mean, when it comes to those who are worth the most, sometimes, you just need to act and let your heart do the talking.”

 

—

 

Peonies

 

Seulgi said that sometimes, it’s best to just act, so that’s exactly what Irene does.

 

The scar on the side of her belly burns as she picks up a discarded axe that had been laying around the rundown warehouse, swinging it with a passion.

 

Perhaps it was the smell of their smoking guns that summoned the zombies to the warehouse. The gang members had long-since fled after Seulgi had led her girls in, guns blazing. They’d saved Eunji, Chorong, Bomi, Naeun, Namjoo, and Hayoung, but they’d also been left to deal with the rogue zombies themselves.

 

Irene had run out of bullets a while ago, so she figures that it’s best to improvise in times of crisis.

 

She has literally no idea where the accuracy comes from, but even Irene has to admit that it must’ve looked pretty badass to any onlookers who just saw her throw her axe, the weapon spinning through the air with vigor, slicing the head of the zombie clean off.

 

“,” Seulgi curses from behind her, and Irene whirls around to see the younger girl staring at Irene in awe and excitement, her smile goofily wide. There’s a rotting zombie carcass crumbled at Seulgi’s feet, but Irene’s never seen someone look so beautiful.

 

“That was hot,” Seulgi continues, eyes crinkling into crescent-shaped moons, and she lazily meanders her way over to Irene, casually stepping over zombie carcasses like it’s no big deal.

 

Irene flushes. “You think?”

 

She thinks she’s ready to take on the world, with the way Seulgi bobs her head to a rhythm that no one else can hear.

 

—

 

Irises and Orchids

 

That night, Yeri exits the bathroom of her and Joy’s shared top floor hotel suite with a towel over her head.

 

“Feeling better?” Joy asks softly, settling down the Edgar Allen Poe book she had been reading on the coffee table. Briefly, she wonders how they’d got here— just a little over a month ago, she’d been fresh out of college, working at a recording company, watching Netflix when she returned home. Now, here she is, having taken over a hotel building, having taken in a stranger whom she’d come to adore in such a short time, having taken up reading classic American literature— the world really had gone to hell.

 

Yeri bobs her head, the towel flopping slightly. She flashes Joy a quick smile.

 

“Much better. Thanks, Joy.”

 

“What’s with the towel on your head?” Joy inquires with a chuckle as Yeri settles on her regular side of the couch. She leans over to tug at a corner playfully, and Yeri squeaks. “You were in there for a while, and I swear I heard the blow dryer.”

 

“I kind of did something,” Yeri admits shyly, and Joy her head, furrows her brow. “But first, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

 

“Of course,” Joy says immediately, straightening up at Yeri’s semi-serious tone. “I can’t tell you how serious I’ll be able to take you, little Miss E.T., but anything for you.”

 

Anything. Yeri smiles adoringly. That word again.

 

“Joy, do you feel restless just staying around here?”

 

“All the time,” Joy says honestly. “I feel like a sitting duck. I’ve... I’ve got all of these resources and nothing to do with them.”

 

“I feel similar,” Yeri says slowly. She takes a deep breath. “Listen, I have an idea, and you don’t have to agree with it, but hear me out?”

 

“Of course,” Joy says again.

 

“I want to try to get to your ex-girlfriend and her friends.”

 

Joy stares at Yeri, stunned.

 

“You said that they were developing a cure, right? You said it yourself: you have so many resources, but you can’t do anything with them by just staying here. You— we,” Yeri corrects before continuing, “could do so much good if we find them. They- they can’t create a cure if they’re dead, and what if they asked you to bring supplies because they’re limited? I know it’s dangerous to try and travel so far— you don’t have to agree. If you don’t want to go, Joy, then we won’t go. I’m loyal to you, first and foremost. But please just consider it?”

 

Joy nods slowly, the gears churning, loud and abrasive, before it just stops. It all makes sense.

 

She rises from the couch and casts Yeri a small smile.

 

“Let’s go to bed, Yeri. We have a long day tomorrow.”

 

Yeri blinks, cocking her head in confusion. “We do? What are we doing?”

 

“Well,” Joy shrugs. “We have a lot of weapons, but our food stocks are good enough just for us at the moment. If we want to help them out, we’re going to have to plunder a bit more.”

 

“Wait, we’re—” Yeri stops, dancing in her seat for a brief moment. Joy looks on adoringly as she composes herself and looks at Joy with wide eyes. “Just like that? Are you sure?”

 

“Absolutely,” Joy giggles, bopping Yeri on the nose. “Remember? Anything for you. Now, are you going to take off that funny towel?”

 

“Oh!” Yeri brightens at the mention of the towel, as though she’d temporarily forgotten about it. “I wanted to do something... cement my promise to look out for you, so...”

 

The towel comes off her head, and Joy gapes.

 

“You cut your hair?!” She reaches forward to thumb the end of Yeri’s short locks of her, just edging out the younger girl’s chin. “Yeri...”

 

“Do you like it?” Yeri asks, looking up at Joy bashfully through her lashes. She bites her lip as she meets Joy’s sparkling gaze.

 

“I love it,” Joy says, beaming at her, and Yeri blushes. “You look beautiful.”

 

“Thank you, Joy.”

 

—

 

Irises

 

Yeri’s not quite sure where Joy gets the pickup truck from— the older girl just winks at her and tells her not to worry. By this point, Yeri’s more than learned to just trust Joy and her tendencies to somehow make things work out, so she shrugs it off and goes with it.

 

It takes around a month for them to prepare everything, but by the end of it, they’re hopping into the driver and passenger seats of Joy’s truck full of weapons, food, Joy’s motorcycle, and plenty of gas, looking back wistfully at the hotel that had become such a familiar home for the both of them.

 

“Bye-bye,” Yeri calls out the window to no one in particular, waving farewell to the building that remained tall and proud in the middle of such chaos. She struggles to keep a straight face, feeling tears prick at the corner of her eyes as she realizes that she may very well never see this place again. “Thank you for keeping us safe all this time!”
 

Then, she climbs down into the passenger seat, taking deep breaths to try and collect her feelings.

 

From the passenger seat, Joy shoots her a sympathetic look, extending her left hand and squeezing Yeri’s smaller hand in her own.

 

“I don’t know why I’m crying,” Yeri laughs, swiping at the liquid escaping her eyes. “It’s just a building. You’re not crying, Joy, and you lived there longer than I did, so I don’t know why I am.”

 

Joy shakes her head in understanding, her lips getting tugged up, and affectionate expression overtaking.

 

“I’m just too used to things being temporary,” Joy admits, almost regretfully, and Yeri knows better than to pry. “But, if it makes you feel any better, I grew to love this place too. I’m going to miss it a lot— and my bed.”

 

“We’ll find somewhere better,” Yeri finds herself resolutely saying. “We’ll find a place even better than this.”

 

“That’s the spirit,” Joy enthuses, grinning.

 

And just like that, they’re off.

 

—

 

Peonies

 

It’s 3AM in the morning when Irene bolts up from her bed and races into the neighboring top-floor suite room.

 

(A month ago, Irene had opted to take another top-floor suite the moment she found out that Seulgi was the single resident at the top of the hotel— the young leader had managed to persuade its other residents to reside on the lower levels, given how in the event of an attack, they would have an easier time evacuating than those towards the top.

 

Irene had heard none of it, refusing to let Seulgi remain lonely, and had begged Seulgi with perfect puppy dog eyes to allow her to join the younger girl.)

 

“Seulgi!” Irene shouts, crawling onto the bed and shaking the girl writhing in the white bedsheets by the shoulders. “Seulgi! You’re having a nightmare! Wake up!”

 

And Seulgi wakes up with a gasp, like she’d been underwater for too long and she’d just broken the surface. Her breaths are ragged and short, and she chokes out a sob before burying her face in her hands, trying to hide from the other girl.

 

“Seulgi…”

 

Irene wraps her arms around the quivering girl, pressing her lips into the top of her head.

 

“I’m here.”

 

“…I know you are. I’m glad… I’m glad that you’re up here with me.”

 

The words come coarse, like Seulgi’s having difficulty speaking them.

 

Irene wishes that she could take all the pain away; wishes that everything beneath the surface was as calm as what the exterior perceived— like a swan gliding across the water, Irene wonders how hard Seulgi is kicking her feet to stay afloat.

“…I’m here for you. Really. I’m not going anywhere.”

 

“…I know you are.” A deep breath. “I think I’m ready now.”

 

Irene stays quiet as she listens to Seulgi talk about growing up alone in a house full of people— she spent most of her childhood up in her room, drawing, planning, dreaming. Little Seulgi wouldn’t have to wait long to get her big break. Her parents had been scientists, and they’d opted to spend every waking moment at Kang Laboratories.

 

“I never knew what they were doing,” Seulgi says, staring up at the ceiling, Irene curled up to her side. “I never knew… and when I did, it was too late.”

 

Irene’s brow furrows. “What was too late?”

 

Seulgi sighs, and Irene mutely intertwines their fingers.

 

“My mother was terminal,” Seulgi finally says quietly, heartbeats later. “There was a point in time when I never saw her— she never left her room, and soon after, I left for university. I had no idea that she was dying, Irene— I had no idea that she was practically dead!” Seulgi’s practically shouting, but Irene chooses to remain silent. “I- I… You can’t bring back the dead, Irene. You can’t. But that’s exactly what my father tried to do.”

 

There’s a poignant silence that seems to echo off the walls, and Irene is speechless. Her mind runs at a mile a minute, trying to make sense of the phrase that just left Seulgi’s lips.

 

“Wait. You mean to tell me that…?”

 

“That my parents are the reason that we’re actually living in a zombie apocalypse?” Seulgi laughs bitterly. “That’s exactly what I’m telling you. And you know what? Both of them died because of it.”

 

“Seulgi…” Irene shakes her head, clutching Seulgi’s hand tight. “Please don’t tell me you’re taking this on yourself.”

 

“I could’ve stopped them, Irene!” Seulgi exclaims, and Irene frowns. “I could’ve swayed my father, maybe I could’ve taken care of my mother! Instead, I hardly even knew them, I grew up hating them, and now I’ll never get the chance. I- I can’t lose anyone else, Irene! I can’t!”

 

More silence.

 

“…I know you have regrets, Seulgi,” Irene whispers, biting her lip. “I know you’re hurting. Your intentions are in a good place, they really are. But please, please don’t ever think that any of this was your fault.”

 

“How can I ever find peace with myself?” Seulgi sighs again, squeezing her eyes shut tight in distress. “I can’t change the past, I know that. So how…?”

 

“I don’t know,” Irene admits. She tucks herself further into Seulgi’s side, and the taller girl outstretches her arm to pull Irene in closer. She breathes out, prompting Seulgi to do the same, and they simply lie next to each other, taking comfort in the closeness.

 

“I don’t know yet,” Irene repeats. “But we’ll find out together, Seulgi.”

 

 

To be continued.