Before departing into a mission that might end up stranding him halfway across the world from his family, he uses the time to phone Luhan. He doesn't know how this lead will pan out, he doesn’t know whether he’ll be able to get back home, but he promised Luhan he’d call, so he does.

 

Thankfully, Luhan answers quickly. Minseok knows he’s probably sleeping with the phone under his pillow. 

 

“Minseok? Babe?” Luhan says into the speaker. The voice sounds grainy, there’s too much interference. 

 

“Luhan?” Minseok says but can’t hear Luhan’s voice over the static. Still, he tries. All he wants to do is hear Luhan’s voice and have him tell him everything’s gonna be alright but it’s no use. The line dies soon after that. “Damn it.”

 

“Alright,” the captain calls as everyone gets ready to face the night. He gives Minseok a bicycle with instructions to get to the plane as quietly as possible. He then explains the maneuver. They’ll exit the building, careful of making noise, and head straight to the plane. Once near, they’ll bring in the truck to refuel the plane. The sharp shooters on the roof will buy them time from above while they make noise down below. Minseok is to shoot anything on sight and get on the plane as quickly as possible.

 

“No talking, no whispering, no noise, you hear?” The captain reminds everyone.c

 

“There’s enough room on the plane,” Minseok tells the captain. He doubts anyone will send help all the way across the world. These soldiers are effectively trapped here.

 

The guy smiles but shakes his head. “Better the devil you know, and all that.”

 

Minseok understands. He’d been more than willing to stick to the ship currently housing his family.

 

With a silent signal, they set off into the night. Minseok is still not sure what time it is but something tells him it’s gotta be close to sunrise. The cover of night will only protect them so long.

 

He pushes his bike, following the two soldiers on the lead, until he gets the signal to ride it toward the plane. The dark is oppressive in the large, nearly abandoned compound. This used to be a sprawling army base and now it’s practically deserted. Hundreds, maybe thousands of men and women have been lost only in this secluded spot. 

 

When they get to the runway, the captain gives off a signal for the truck with fuel to get ready. It can only come at the last possible moment to avoid alerting the infected in the vicinity. 

 

It’s unfortunate that, at that time, one of the soldiers trips and sets off his gun. The gunshot tips off the infected incredibly fast. With their time cut short, the truck approaches them without care as they start shooting up the undead. Cause that’s what they seem to be; actual, real life, ing zombies. 

 

A soldier hops off the truck, hooks it up to the plane and starts the refueling just as the pilot runs into the cockpit.

 

They make time by killing off as many infected as they can. Minseok does not think about the fact that these were human once.

 

He’s not sure how much time they spend shooting but, eventually, they run out of bullets. The infected are still coming, though, and Minseok has nothing to protect himself but a knife. However, he still manages to eliminate at least three undead, one of them nearly taking a chunk of his arm.

 

Thankfully, the captain fighting alongside him has deadly accuracy and manages to help Minseok clear a path to enter through the back of the plane. As he enters the cockpit, the pilot shouts, “we’re set!” 

 

Minseok looks out the window to see the soldier handling the refueling on the ground, quickly transforming into one of those things. The captain, noticing this goes over and prepares to shoot him, but not without getting bit by a fast moving body. Not one to just quit midway, the man finishes off the former soldier, unhooks the hose from the plane and gives them the thumbs up to start their trip. He then turns the gun on himself and smiles reassuringly before pulling the trigger.

 

Minseok has no chance to react as the aircraft starts moving, leaving the forsaken base behind him.

 

--

 

The sat phone is still in his pocket, he notices. It’s been awhile since they left South Korea, heading toward Jerusalem, but he’s been going nonstop for what seems like forever and, the minute he sat on the co-pilot’s seat and finished the take off procedure, he just dropped off. He can’t have slept for more than an hour or two, but feeling the phone in his pocket makes him jump. He calls Luhan that very minute and hopes to God he picks up.

 

“Come on, come on” he whispers.

 

“Minseok?” Luhan answers and Minseok can finally breathe.

 

“Luhan.”

 

“Are you ok? Where are you?”

 

“I’m ok, I’m fine. South Korea was a bust. We’re heading to Israel.”

 

“Israel.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

There’s a long silence that tells Minseok Luhan is not happy about this turn of events.

 

“Be careful, ok?” Luhan replies. “Our family seems to have grown, so we’re gonna need you more than ever.”

 

Minseok smiles at Luhan’s words. “I’ll come back home.”

 

“You bet your you are.”

 

“I love you, Lu.”

 

“Love you, too.”

 

He hangs up after that, not wanting to use up more battery than he needs to. He’s yet again trapped inside an airplane with hours to go until their destination. He’s starting to think, however, that maybe Jerusalem has something for him, any clue to figure out a way to fight against this virus or whatever the hell this is.

 

--

 

“Attention, unidentified aircraft, you are entering restricted airspace and are not cleared for landing. I repeat, you are not cleared for landing.”

 

Minseok takes over, knowing they’ll have to authorize them if he plays his cards right.

 

“Pan, pan, pan, Jerusalem tower, this is 24554, special envoy United Nations requesting immediate landing. Please contact Mossad, office of Jurgen Warmbrunn.”

 

They barely have to wait to be cleared. They land smoothly inside the city, the airport seemingly operating at full capacity. Once they have fully stopped, Minseok asks the pilot to stay behind in the plane.

 

“I’ll be back before dark,” he informs the man. “Be ready.”

 

He is rapidly taken to the office of the official he’s been wanting to talk to. The streets of Jerusalem are just as he remembers them, it’s only too bad he’s never been to this side of the world during a time he wasn’t in a rush.

 

Once he enters the building, he’s led to the official’s office where the man has apparently been expecting him.

 

“Welcome, Mr. Kim,” Warmbrunn says. “You’ve come a long way, I expect.”

 

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” he replies as he takes a seat.

 

Warmbrunn pours himself something to drink and offers Minseok some. After he refuses, the man sits back down on his desk chair. “What is it you want to know?”

 

“How could you have possibly known?” Minseok asks, straight to the point. He has no time to waste right now. He needs to get home.

 

“Most people think that the worst possible scenario can never happen until it already has,” he explains. “It’s not our fault, really. It’s just being human.”

 

“How did you know?” Minseok tries again, tired of non-answers.

 

“Minseok Kim, the man who publicly ousted a corrupt U.N. official some years back, derailed your career, caused a few ripples then turned all that into a book. Made a good profit, I hear.”

 

“How did Israel know?” He tries a third time.

 

The man smiles and finishes off his drink. “We intercepted communication out of India where a general claimed to have fought some rakshasa. Roughly translated to man-eater, a zombie.”

 

“So you're telling me you, Jurgen Warmbrunn, high ranking official in the Mossad, described as no-nonsense, effective, austere, invested millions of dollars finishing up those walls because someone somewhere mentioned the word ‘zombie’?” Minseok asks. It’s difficult to believe that they took a fantastical word uttered by a general so seriously. Who does that?

 

“Well,” he starts with a laugh, “when you put it like that it sounds a bit insane.”

 

Warmbrunn stands up and invites Minseok to follow him as they walk through the tight alleyways of Old Jerusalem. He goes on to explain how they built up a type of system that would allow them to assess risks after being too complacent in the past. They created what they call ‘The Tenth Man’. Ten people tasked with deciding if a threat is real or not. When nine out of ten all agree that one thing must be the truth, it is the duty of the tenth man to disagree. So, if the use of the word ‘zombie’ was not declared a threat by nine, the tenth assumes it is.

 

“I was the tenth man,” Warmbrunn tells him, leading Minseok somewhere. “I set myself to investigate the veracity of the claims made by the general, assuming that, when they said ‘zombie’, they meant ‘zombie.’”

 

“Was patient zero form India?” Minseok asks. Will that be his next step? Heading to India to verify these claims and see if he can get to the origin? Minseok is already dreading it.

 

“That I cannot confirm. There are too many sources at play, things happening all over the world that would indicate a possible origin.”

 

They continue walking to the loud cacophony that announces the gathering of hundreds of people as Warmbrunn says, “meanwhile, the virus keeps spreading and we do what we can.”

 

They arrive at a large open and crowded space where he can fully see a section of the fortified wall surrounding the city. Tall concrete only broken by passageways protected by strong steel and metal. This is effectively a border crossing.

 

“You’re letting people in,” Minseok states, amazed at the amount of people walking into the city.

 

“These are two of ten portals into fortified Israel,” Warmbrunn informs him. “The more people we let in, the fewer zombies we have to fight.”

 

The scene is unbelievable, and it sort of reminds Minseok of those biblical stories where masses of people emigrated after some sort of plague, which, if he thinks about it, is exactly what’s happening in the world right now.

 

Everyone looks relieved to be somewhere they don’t need to run, where they can maybe find some peace. Some people laugh nervously, some pray, and others sing. A woman, clearly inspired by what she’s seeing around her, grabs a microphone from a guard and belts out a tune that everyone around her follows. 

 

“Who could I speak to if I went to India?” He asks, taking in the sight.

 

“India’s no good, my friend. Forget about patient zero.”

 

There are two helicopters overlooking the area, machine guns at the ready. They are prepared for anything.

 

“I can’t do that,” Minseok replies, feeling a foreboding sense of urgency. “It’s too late for me to build a wall.”

 

“I don’t have answers. All we can do is find a way to hide.”

 

Damn it. What to do now? He can’t go to India, there are no leads, no clues, no origin.

 

Warmbrunn talks about finding a way to hide. But where? How?

 

“Get troops down there,” he hears someone’s voice from the radio of the soldier outpost behind them.

 

That’s when the helicopters start converging near the wall, too many to be anything less than intentional. That’s also when Minseok remembers. Noise.

 

“It’s too loud,” he tells Warmbrunn. “It’s too loud! They are attracted to the noise!”

 

But it’s too late. The first infected start dropping from the top of the wall, hell knowing how they managed to climb such a height. Chaos erupts that very second; people screaming, turning, crying all over the area of the portal.

 

“They’ve breached Salvation Gate,” the radio informs, but Minseok doesn't need to hear it because it’s happening right in front of him.

 

“Take him back,” Warmbrunn tells one of his soldiers. “Get him to Jaffa Gate!”

 

The guard that grabs him is taller than him, lanky, but probably packing some muscle under that uniform by the way he’s grabbing Minseok’s bicep.

 

“He’ll get you to your plane!” Warmbrunn informs him.

 

“Follow me!” the soldier says. Two other soldiers are right behind them, shooting anything that comes close.

 

“Head to landing point B,” the soldier adds, making sure the two other guards have heard.

 

They start running through the tight alleyways of Old Jerusalem at top speed, but it’s not fast enough to escape the rotting bodies of the undead following in their tails. People are screaming, trying anything to get to safety. Most don’t make it without weapons.

 

The guards start shouting into their radios as they turn the corner, suddenly unsure of which route to take that is not ridden by the undead.

 

Looking around for options, Minseok notices a young boy – very thin, no hair, appearance screaming some type of advanced cancer – standing on a road not far from them, holding a large paddle to defend himself against the multitude of infected heading his way. He looks like he doesn't stand a chance and, before Minseok can figure out a way to try and help him, the infected are already on him. Surprisingly, and Minseok can’t figure out how the hell it happens, the infected don’t lay a hand on the boy. They simply run around him, completely oblivious to his presence. 

 

He doesn't have a chance to even think about the strange scene before he’s being directed somewhere by the guards.

 

“Over here!” one of the guards calls, breaking down a door and leading them down a mostly empty road.

 

They take several different alleyways, turning right and left seemingly aimlessly, until they reach an old building and head up a flight of stairs. 

 

The few steps leading to the back side of the building are blocked, a couple of infected coming their way, but the soldier tasked with his protection takes his rifle and shoots them down, the other soldier doing the same on the opposite side until they seem to be rid of zombies.

 

“Nasty things,” the tall guard remarks and kneels down to make sure the nearest infected is dead. Minseok sees it before it happens, but doesn’t have enough time to warn the soldier whose hand ends up between the teeth of an infected still alive.

 

Not having time to even think, Minseok grabs the guard’s knife from his thigh, and chops his hand clean off, blood sprouting from the limb like a water tap. He takes the closest piece of fabric he can find, applies a tourniquet four inches above the amputation and bandages the wrist as best as he’s able. Then, he counts. Fifteen seconds. That’s all it takes. Fifteen seconds.

 

Come on, he thinks, don’t turn.

 

The guard screams in pain, grabbing his arm with his remaining hand as he looks at the scene with a baffled look.

 

When the time is up, and the guard remains human, Minseok grabs a shot of strong pain meds from the med kit all the soldiers carry and injects some into the wounded soldier’s thigh. Then, Minseok lifts him up and tells him to keep moving.

 

“The helicopter’s here,” the other soldier informs him.

 

They walk down the few steps leading to an open, dry yard to see a helicopter approaching but, on the other side of the wall separating the neighbouring property, the infected start arriving in hoards.

 

Turning around quickly, they head for an abandoned military humvee and pray for the best. One of the guards grabs the wheel and drives them as fast as possible to the airport, which is thankfully not far away.

 

Now moving quicker than on foot, they take no time getting to their destination. The humvee still has pieces of infected stuck from when they hit some on their escape, but Minseok has to force himself to keep focused.

 

Quickly getting out of the car once they’re close enough, they start moving on foot again. The soldier is losing strength, holding on to Minseok as they walk. The fact that the man is taller than Minseok makes it pretty difficult to maneuver, but they make do, reaching the runway just in time to see his plane taking off.

 

“No!” He shouts into the air. That bastard. “Son of a .”

 

“There!” The Soldier’s shout directs him to a large 787 getting ready to take off. They run like they’ve never run before and stand in front of the airplane in a last ditch effort. Guns and hands in the air, they signal for the pilots to stop and let them in.

 

For some reason, they do. 

 

Minseok looks at the large aircraft in shock for a second or two before the soldier he’s nearly carrying starts moving.

 

They open up a hatch and drop down a ladder which they climb quickly. The other two soldiers remain while Minseok and the injured soldier climb in. One quick look at the ones staying tells him that this is by choice. They’re not willing to leave their city if they can help it.

 

Minseok understands and so he climbs the remaining steps and makes it into the cockpit.

 

“Go!” The co-pilot tells them as he throws away their rifles and knives.

 

Entering the passenger cabin, they can see everyone inside wondering what’s going on while the flight attendants try to get everyone to sit down. Outside, the airport is being overrun by infected and it’s unlikely any planes will be able to leave after them.

 

“Where are you headed?” he asks one of the flight attendants in charge.

 

“I don’t know. We were headed here, but now I don’t know,” she answers truthfully, her voice shaking, before moving on to the passengers still walking around.

 

Minseok locates a seat in the first row of business class and helps the soldier sit down. They take off soon after that.

 

Taking a couple deep breaths, he then sets off to get the first aid kit and anything else he can find to clean up the soldier’s wound. He finds both the things he was looking for. 

 

“What’s your name?” He asks as he sits back down in front of the guard, feeling like, before subjecting him to an immense amount of pain, he should at least know his name.

 

“Sehun,” he answers between clenched teeth.

 

“Ok, Sehun. This is what we’re gonna do,” he explains. “We’re gonna take off those crappy bandages, and we’re gonna clean it and bandage it properly, ok? This is gonna hurt,” he warns as he hands him a bottle of vodka.

 

Sehun downs it all in two gulps and says, “do it.”

 

He uncoils some of the cloth covering the wound while Sehun writhes on his seat. It seems to be clean; the blood has trickled down thanks to the makeshift tourniquet he applied on the field, but to ward off infection, he needs to douse it in whatever cleansing liquid he’s got available. Vodka seems to be the answer.

 

He cleans his hands with some of the vodka first, then puts on the single pair of sterile gloves in the kit, opens another bottle and counts to three before pouring it all over the open wound. Sehun’s already pale face goes a shade paler after that but Minseok can’t stop. He grabs a piece of sterile gauze and places it over the wound, covering it from the open air carrying all sorts of bacteria, and then bandages the whole stump as best as he’s able, but this time with proper clean bandages. There are no antibiotics in the kit but hopefully they’ll be able to land somewhere he can get proper medical assistance.

 

He gives Sehun another bottle of vodka for safe measure; Minseok knows he must be in a huge amount of pain. He has vivid memories of treating patients in the middle of nowhere with only rudimentary equipment, and he knows pain is sometimes enough to send people into shock and cause a patient to go into cardiac arrest. Best to avoid any of that while stuck on a plane.

 

“You a doctor?” Sehun asks curiously.

 

“Not a medical one, but I have experience in the field,” Minseok tells him. It’s something that has marked him for life. He battled enough PTSD at the start of his career to know it’s not something he looks forward to. 

 

“How did you know?” Sehun asks, interrupting his thoughts. He sees Sehun taking deep steady breaths, probably to lower his heart rate which is probably too fast.

 

“Hmm?”

 

“How did you know cutting it off would work?”

 

Minseok thinks about it. He doesn't know why he did it, he just felt it was the only way. The fact that Sehun didn’t turn was as surprising to him as it was to everyone else. 

 

“I didn’t,” he answers honestly.

 

He settles back against the panel in front of the first row of seats, and breathes a sigh of relief. They made it. They’re still alive and human. Minseok is not sure how they did it, but they did. 

 

Now what to do? Minseok thinks about the soldier back in South Korea, the one who had survived while everyone else around him turned. He thinks about the boy facing the infected with courage only for them to bypass him like he didn’t exist. Why had those two survived? Why were they able to walk out without a scratch, still retaining their humanity?

 

Zitao had talked about strengths being weaknesses, about finding the crumbs and identifying them as the clue they truly are, while Warmbrunn had told him something that stuck with him while he showed Minseok the portals. “All we can do is find a way to hide,” Minseok mutters, remembering. Could it be? Could it be possible that Minseok has found these crumbs the virologist had mentioned? These clues? The clogs in his minds start turning at a rapid pace, forming an idea that just might help them all.

 

He stands up quickly, pulling the sat phone from his pocket and dialing Luhan.

 

“Minseok?” Luhan answers even before the first tone is over.

 

“Lu, I love you. I’m sorry. I need you to get Yunho. Now.”

 

He can hear Luhan moving through the tight passageways and into the command room without question. God, he loves that man.

 

“Here he is. Be safe,” Luhan adds before passing the phone.

 

“Minseok,” Yunho says through the phone. “Where are you?”

 

“On the last flight out of Jerusalem,” he explains. “Listen, I don't have a lot of battery left. I need you to locate the nearest medical research facility, anywhere vaccines are made. Oh, and the closest airport to it.”

 

“Whatever for?”

 

“No time to explain, just to do it. Please.”

 

He doesn’t wait too long but the anxiety consuming him during those short minutes is immense. This is their last chance to do something, whatever that may be.

 

When Yunho next speaks, he tells Minseok about a W.H.O. research facility in Wales that fits the parameters. Minseok runs to the cockpit and bangs on the door urgently.

 

“You need to take this!” He says into the camera right outside, knowing the pilots are watching. Once the co-pilot opens the door, offers the phone he says, “please. Take it.”

 

A few minutes go by slowly, Minseok pacing a hole on the floor right outside the cockpit. When the co-pilot finally opens the door back up, handing Minseok his dead sat phone, he informs Minseok they will head to Cardiff Airport, just a few minutes away from the facility they need to go to. 

 

“This is location, but they’re not sure the facility is still operational,” he says to Minseok, handing him a small piece of paper with the address they need to get to.

 

“Will we make it?” Minseok asks.

 

“Yes,” he answers shortly, closing the door in Minseok’s face.

 

Minseok stands there in front of the closed door for a few minutes, looking at the paper with the facility’s address. 

 

Cardiff. That’s a start.

 

He goes back to sitting in front of Sehun, who looks a bit calmer, and says, “we’re heading to Wales.”

 

Sehun nods and settles back.

 

Minseok cradles his dead phone and wonders – if he doesn't die first – if Luhan will kill him once he returns. Thinking about his family is painful. It’s only been a few days since he left them on that ship but so many things have happened since then that it feels like a lifetime. 

 

He’d missed so much of his children’s lives in the past that it hurts to think of the possibility of not being able to see them again, the possibility of him dying. There were birthdays, recitals, afternoons in the park, and Christmases. It’s one of the main reasons why he decided that enough was enough and focused on being a husband and dad.

 

And now there’s Kyungsoo. The little guy was ripped from his family and tossed into a whirlwind with only Luhan and Minseok to protect him. With little chance of finding any direct relatives, Minseok is more than willing to make him a part of his family and, knowing Luhan, he’s probably thinking the same.

 

What a show, he thinks. He just really wants to take a couple deep breaths and wake up to a world where he’s not running for his life every ten minutes and little boys don’t watch their parents being turned into monsters.