Seojun wasn’t getting his hopes up. It was clear that a telephone would be at the convenience store, but it was a wired one, not mobile, and obviously, it wouldn’t work from afar. Seojun watched nervously as Golden fished something long out of his pocket.
Golden’s mind drifted back to a time when he savored a peculiar candy, shaped uncannily like an eyeball. It was a round, sweet orb that he would let rest on his tongue, rolling it around until it melted away, sometimes slipping from his grasp. When it did, it would skitter across the floor, glistening with a mix of spit and sugar.
No, there was one other time too.
This wasn’t something Seojun could just shrug off. Golden had burst in here, flailing like a fish gasping on dry land, but it wasn’t easy to do so in front of a soldier with a gun. Seojun could feel the worry lines on his forehead start to melt away.
Airi was seething, her words slicing through the air as she pointed an accusing finger at the soldier. Tears carved paths through the dirt on her face.
He was known as Woodpecker, though the origin of this nickname was a mystery to him. Everyone who knew the reason was dead. They had slowly died by melting in the stomach of test subject XS F-H037-C. Or they had been torn apart. Or they had their organs sucked out. Or their brains devoured. Or their bodies crushed. Or…or… or...
Her face, initially radiant with the thought of joy, quickly shifted to disbelief as she looked at Johan. Scouring his face for any sign of a joke, she found none; his response was somber and serious. Christina’s face clouded over, a storm of emotions brewing as a heavy silence hung in the air.
The mood lightened up a bit as they spent some time together, even if it was just for a short while. However, the threat of Johan, Bobby, and Seojun becoming monster snacks was still very real, so they needed to keep moving quickly. One wrong step, and they could lose a childhood friend in an instant.
“Hannah, are we sure this is the right spot?”
It was a scorching summer day in 1964, and a group of five friends found themselves gathered in a dormitory at Red Lake Campground, all worn out from the day’s activities.
Johan’s voice, tinged with a hint of indignation, rang with sincerity and innocence. Seojun, for his part, didn’t care too much—whether Johan was a burger guy or a pizza fan was none of his business. He gave a nod, accepting the vehement denial with a mental shrug.
Seojun never really understood why people often felt embarrassed about things like this. Nevertheless, he had accomplished his goal and now stuck to Johan like a shadow, gripping the lantern tightly.
The guardhouse was completely empty and had an eerie quietness to it. What’s more, the door, notorious for its squeaky hinges, was unexpectedly unlocked. As Seojun turned the handle, it swung open easily, and to his relief, there was no sign of an ambush from someone in a gas mask or any tentacled monster.
“I can do this! I can help too!”
Bobby, with his tin pot now slid down to his nose, was puffing with effort, his cheeks flushed. Maybe Johan’s earlier encouragement had lit a fire in him, or maybe he’d found a rare burst of courage.