█ Chapter 13: Amongst Friends

Minseok barely remembered anything prior to blacking out.

Consciousness flooded back to him slower than he would have liked, and so did the light that blinded him from overhead. If Minseok hadn't known any better, he would have thought he was actually seeing "the light" before death, and a part of him would have preferred it over the reality of his celestial salvation being nothing but a rickety, hanging light bulb.

When was the last time he had seen light, though? Not from the sun, but artificial light. Electricity. He groaned and shielded his sore eyes with his arm, even that slight movement difficult to do with the agonizing crick in his back. His whole body felt like it had been rubbed raw with sandpaper and his limbs like somebody had torn the sinews, thread by thread. His throat was so parched it hurt to inhale and swallow.

He still wasn't sure where he was, nor could he see anything but the high, rusty ceiling behind the light bulb and a starry sky between the construction beams. He was indoors and it was nighttime. That was all he knew for now.

Minseok struggled to get up and managed to sit on the edge of what looked like a giant stretch of conveyor belt used as a makeshift bed for him. He was in a factory. From the looks of it, it was a metal-processing factory that had been abandoned much longer before the apocalypse but the way all the machinery was arranged looked like the place had been refurnished to suit the factory's new residents.

"I wouldn't get up if I were you," said a masked, tall stranger a few feet from him.

Minseok flinched in surprise. He thought he had seen all the creepy and strange things the world had to offer, but a man masquerading as a serial killer certainly deserved its own page in his book of ", That's Scary". The stranger, whom Minseok assumed was friendly for now, hid the entirety of his face behind a black, scratched mask that resembled something out of a horror movie. Like the hockey mask Jason wore, except thirty times more terrifying. "Wh-Who are you? Where am I?" he asked.

"You know, I was hoping you'd ask," the stranger's deep, husky voice sounded surprisingly milky and charming. "I go by Kris and you are in my home. Welcome." Kris opened his arms in a grand gesture and right there and then, Minseok knew his "host" had a few screws loose in his head.

"My comrades brought you here, patched you up, and well, you're a very honored guest, Minseok. We've been trying to catch your group's attention for a while now," Kris circled his chair a couple of times in leisurely strides, then tossed Minseok a sealed water bottle. "It took a lot of work, really. Sent some of my best men to recruit. Had to write scary on the walls, triggered the fire alarms, blah blah blah."

Minseok nearly choked on the water he was ravenously gulping down. "What? That was you? Why the hell were you following us? What do you want with me... or them?"

"I didn't want you, if I'm to be perfectly honest. I fancied your friend. Jongin? Kyungsoo's an exceptional fighter, too. Just the kind of men I need," Kris tilted his head. "I'm building an army. Well, to call it an army would be highly ambitious. A group of specialists, if you will." In a second, the tall male rushed to Minseok, scaring the shorter male into lying flat against the conveyor belt. "I would naturally be the leader."

Despite Kris being somewhat of a nutjob, Minseok found his goal to be practical in a sense. If Kris gathered a bunch of able-bodied and spirited survivors together, they sure as hell stood a better chance than anybody else. It was even impressive Kris had built something to that extent thus far.

"I'm sure you know Zitao," Kris pulled away. "Our scouting team found him left for dead and boy, did he tell quite the story about you and Jongin. This here's Luhan, our sniper." The masked man pointed at a figure Minseok hadn't even noticed who was sitting cross-legged on top of a six-foot tall hunk of machinery.

He vaguely recognized Luhan from the gas station. Everyone was an interesting character here but Luhan took the cake with his peroxide blonde hair, sniper rifle, and the cough mask with a smiley face sewn onto it. For someone who was living in a zombie apocalypse, Luhan wore nothing but a tattered black wifebeater and a ripped pair of jeans.

Kris frowned. "He... doesn't talk much. Actually, I've never heard him talk since I met him a year ago!" he shared with an uncharacteristic chirp. "I'll introduce you to Yixing later. He's our medical and tactical specialist."

Minseok shook his head because he wasn't processing everything as well nor as willingly as Kris would have liked. It was one thing to know where he was and who he was with but the why evaded him. If Kris wanted him to join his army of tough cookies, he wasn't going to sign up for it anytime soon, not with Zitao in the team who had probably wanted to gut him at first sight.

"I don't know. I don't think this place is... for me," Minseok glanced at Luhan who was still watching him like a hawk. "Thanks for the water, though. I haven't had clean water in months."

He got up, but he wasn't sure where and how to leave. Zitao returning from his supply run certainly didn't help to make Minseok feel more comfortable where he was because the moment the two made eye contact, Minseok knew Zitao wanted to strangle him. He avoided his piercing gaze. "Zitao," Minseok sighed. "I'm sorry."

His apology alone triggered Zitao's rage, but before Zitao could grab Minseok, Kris had intervened and there was a loud, painful pop that sounded from Zitao's elbow as his arm was twisted back.

"!" Zitao seethed, holding his limp and jello-like arm.

Kris, whom Minseok had thought was generally a "nice guy", sounded a lot more devious after watching what he had seen.

"You never raise a weapon or a fist to anybody here. Minseok's one of us now, and, as such, you'll treat him with respect," Kris's voice boomed and ricocheted off all the metal walls of the factory. "You're amongst friends." The masked male grabbed Zitao's dislocated arm again and popped it right back into place like he was playing with a socket doll.

Zitao's gaze was still blazing with rage but his tone of voice was surprisingly submissive in front of Kris as he responded with a deflated "yes, sir." Minseok figured it had to be this way because he only assumed Kris had saved Zitao's life and somehow, he was paying that same price, too. In a way, he owed Kris something for bringing him back here; otherwise, he wouldn't have survived a single day alone.

"You know how to use one of these?" Kris placed a revolver in Minseok's hand.

Minseok nodded slowly. He had gone to the firing range with his buddies in the past and played several FPS games, so that had to count for some experience, right? He just couldn't believe that, within a day of initiation, Kris trusted him enough to put a loaded firearm in his possession. But, he had a gut feeling that Kris wasn't naive at all. It also didn't help that the guy had a sniper buddy looking out for him at all times.

"Get back to work," Kris told Zitao, who did exactly as he was told without any protest.

'Talk about being whipped,' Minseok thought to himself, barely catching the can of pasta he was tossed. He fumbled with it before it could drop. He caught the can opener just fine and wondered if this was really happening. He finally had the luxury of drinking mineral water and eating a can of pasta for dinner. What next, toilet paper and a functioning toilet? "Thanks," he said.

"You're going to start working for your share of food tomorrow," Kris replied before he walked off, somewhere.

Minseok noticed that there were other unfamiliar faces busily walking around the factory and thought it was strange how the place functioned like a beehive. Everyone had a job, but everyone more or less had the same goal. He wondered if his friends (could he even call them that anymore?) could have been invited just the same, but no, he was the one enjoying the finer luxuries of life for being a coward. He quietly sipped the can of pasta and glanced at Luhan from the corner of his eyes. "You want some?" he asked.

Luhan said nothing.

"You really don't talk, huh?" Minseok frowned. "Is it because you can't talk or because you don't want to? I learned a bit of sign language in high school."

Dead silence.

"Well, then..." Minseok almost felt silly for talking to himself by this point, so he kept quiet too and finished his canned pasta, almost wishing the others could be there to share it with. It was going to be a lonely night.