Prologue - Unit 01
— For twenty years, the world has been in hiding underground. Nobody knows where the Infected came from or how to defeat them, all they know is that their numbers grow while humanity’s diminishes. As a last ditch effort to restore mankind’s dominion over the earth, Unit 01 has been dispatched to locate the source of the Infected and destroy it.
apocalypse!skz
zombieapocalypse!au, platonic relationships (mostly), angst, reader’s gender is unspecified, a whole lotta action, plot-heavy
warnings: character injury, character death, dark themes (it’s a zombie apocalypse, it’s going to be pretty dark), death of family members, bodies
a/n: kinda just setting the scene with this one haha
wc: 2.7k
taglist: @jisunggy @hannamoon143 @fly-you-dam-fools @chancloud8 @hannieslittlerockstar @vixensss @skzpvol @gxtwllsn @yinzgarden @kayleefriedchicken @nightmarenyxx @dwesion @hityoulikebahng
if you would like to be added to this series taglist, leave a comment or send an ask! <33
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You’re getting a headache.
Knee bouncing rapidly, you reposition yourself on the chair for what feels like the thousandth time. Despite the fact that you’ve been sitting here for over a half hour, the hard plastic of the seat seems to suck all the warmth from your body— not that there was much to begin with. The air down here has a sort of ever-present chill that seeps deep into your bones, no matter how many layers you throw on.
A carefully constructed paper airplane drops gracefully onto your lap. You purse your lips, scanning the room for the culprit.
“Minho.”
The man in question ignores you, chewing a stubborn hangnail off his finger in apparent disinterest. It takes a copious amount of self control to keep yourself in check.
“You know not to waste resources like this,” you continue thinly, taking the paper airplane between your fingers and smoothing out the folds. The paper stares up at you, still creased despite your efforts. Ruined.
Of course, still no response from Minho. Fine then.
The room, though occupied by several people, is silent, save for the constant buzzing of the LED lights above. Impatience runs thick through the air, the familiar training room suddenly feeling small and foreign. You suck in a breath through your teeth and squeeze your eyes shut tight, little fireworks dancing behind your eyelids. It’s been too long. No news is not good news.
Gently, a hand rubs your shoulder. You already know who it belongs to before you even look up. Felix gives you a reassuring smile. You return it with a half-hearted sigh.
“He’ll be back any moment now, you’ll see,” he says, giving your shoulder a little pat before reaching to pick the paper up from your lap. It rustles as he brings it back over to Minho, who promptly tucks the folds back into place.
It just doesn’t make sense. Chan should have been back an hour ago. To avoid going insane, you abandon your chair in favor of pacing the floor in front of it.
Chan has certain “privileges” that other unit leaders lack. As the son of the high chairman, he has access to information regarding strategies of rival units, expectations for upcoming tests, and— the reason for his current absence— updates on the ongoing unit selection. Over the past month, nobody knows who has been eliminated thus far.
Rather, nobody is supposed to know. As of present, your unit remains in the roster among six others.
Today is the day they announce the winning unit, a decision made in today’s council meeting. You know in the rows upon rows of rooms surrounding your own, each unit is waiting for that familiar chime of the loudspeaker to flood the room. For most of them, though they are unaware, hope is already lost. However, for a select few, everything is on the line. When a unit is eliminated, you wonder, will they weep? Cheer? Perhaps both.
Unit 01. Your unit. First to volunteer, the 9 members were handpicked by Chan himself. For the past two years, they’ve been like family to you. Day in and day out, your unit has devoted themselves to intense training, meticulously honing skills until the mere mention of your name ignites either respect or fear in others’ eyes. And now, all the hard work could pay off. It has to. You have full confidence that Unit 01 will be selected for The Mission.
“Oh my god, ___, you’re stressing me out,” Hyunjin has been watching you pace back and forth from his spot at the corner of the room and has become considerably more antsy since you started. You pretend not to hear. Hyunjin crosses his arms with a huff, letting his head fall back against the wall. “When is the announcement supposed to be made again?”
“I’d give it five minutes,” Seungmin chimes in from his spot on tho ground, where he’s sitting cross-legged across from Jeongin. A spattering of playing cards lays between them, and—judging by the way his nose is scrunching—Seungmin is losing.
“That means Chan’s got exactly point five seconds to get his ass back in here,” says Jeongin, who grins as he slams down his winning hand. Seungmin tosses up his cards and stomps off, mumbling something about getting a drink of water.
You scan the room, taking a mental note of everyone present. Besides Chan, two people are missing. Jisung and Changbin had left to check on him, since he should have been back from the meeting hours ago, but now it’s five minutes from announcements and a third of the unit is absent. Unbelievable. You approach the towering metal door that leads to the hallway outside. Maybe you should go after them.
Just as you pull open the door, it’s shoved back into you as two people slam it open. The entire room is startled into attention, even Minho stands up as Changbin and Jisung catch their breaths, apparently having sprinted all the way here. Hyunjin crosses quickly over to them, immediately questioning them for information. Changbin is the first to pipe up.
“Chan’s on his way,” He nods at you as he speaks, and you can feel your shoulders sag in relief.
“Did he tell you anything? Who’s been selected?” Felix wrings his hands, mouth pressed in a worried line as he approaches the group.
“That’s all I know,” Changbin answers, pushing gently through the circle formed around him and plopping down on a bench. You remain posted by the door, while the rest of the unit follows him like little ducklings.
Jisung slows as he passes by, trailing behind the group as they pelt Changbin with questions. That man has the patience of a saint.
You give Jisung a look as he glances up and down at you.
“Problem?” you ask, patience wearing ever-thinner. Usually you aren’t this irritable, but today is an exception. The entire unit, you’re sure, is painfully aware of your current mood.
“Me? Nah. your shoelace is untied though.” He points, then walks away, shoving his hands in his pockets and whistling.
Against your better judgment, you look down. You’re wearing strap-on boots. Han fucking Jisung. You know he’s trying to lighten the mood, just like always. However, that doesn’t stop the growing urge to wipe that stupid smirk off his face.
At the beckoning of Felix, you reluctantly join the circle around Changbin. Not much of anything is said. Even Jisung apparently has nothing to say, which is probably a new record for him. The silence is loud, but not uncomfortable. Not one person is left alone with their thoughts. You find your spiked temper smoothing out, just listening to the quiet breathing surrounding you.
As much as your fellow unit members can get on your nerves, they’re like your brothers. closer even than your own family.
You’ve known Chan since before you can even remember. A few years older than you, he was your mentor and best friend, guiding you through life when your parents couldn’t. You recall many a time when you were young, still small enough to fit into the air ducts, searching for a way to the Surface.
Only one exit to the Surface is able to be accessed from the Bunkers. At least, to public knowledge. Some of the more daring folk— mainly teens and young adults— have found other routes. The bunkers have to get air somehow, right? If one does manage to navigate the twisting tunnels of the air ducts and make it onto “contaminated ground”, they are in the hands of exactly the same conditions that drove humanity underground in the first place. One too many announcements have been made over the loudspeakers declaring someone as deceased for any sane person to venture up there. Unfortunately, sanity is a trait that has grown scarce over the years, and many a soul have ventured to the Surface. So many, in fact, that there are maps circling around the Bunkers. Secret notes passed between schoolmates or scribbled behind a winding staircase and covered with paint, only to be scribbled again six feet to the left.
One time, you’d made it. Goosebumps rise on your neck just thinking about it. It was bright, but not in the migraine-inducing way of the Bunkers. For the first time, you felt the air move around you. Fresh, clean air. Your lungs had greedily sucked it in, savoring every last breath. There was so much color; hues of green and splashes of blue, far more vibrant than anything you had imagined. You stood there, transfixed by the overwhelming beauty of it all. That day, you wandered much farther than you should have, but you didn’t care. This world, this, is what you’re fighting to take back.
In the distance, at the edge of what seemed like an endless billowing plane, you had caught sight of a creature. A doe. Delicate and fragile, it started at the mere sound of your footsteps. You watched as it leapt away, wishing you could ever be that free. For a brief moment, you considered staying. Fleeing the confines of that horrible underground maze to fend for yourself.
Memories of the horrors that took place before the Bunkers eventually convince you to crawl back into the air vent. Going back felt like returning to hell. You’ve never gone back to the Surface since, never telling a soul about your expedition. Not even Chan.
But now, because of Unit 01— your family, your home— you might be able to taste freedom once more. And if the mission is successful, you’ll never have to see these god-forsaken walls ever again.
The click of the door alerts your attention.
Heart jumping right into your throat, you whip your head around. It’s Chan.
Chan shuts the door gently behind him. Everyone knows not to rush at him, as you had with Changbin and Jisung. Instead, Chan is greeted with eight anxious faces and silence. You find his eyes as he approaches, imploring an answer. A smile spreads across his face as he returns your glance with a nearly imperceptible nod.
All the tension immediately releases from your veins, and you slump against the wall, a breathless laugh escaping your lungs. You made it. You really, really made it.
The loudspeaker announces itself with a long-high pitched tone, but it is henceforth disregarded by the entire room.
“Chan, Chan, is it us? Did we make it?” Felix’s eyes are wide as the loudspeaker drones on in the background.
Unit 05, eliminated.
Chan’s eyes gleam as he grins at Felix. “Always knew we would, yeah?” Chan rustles the freckled boy’s hair as his shoulders visibly drop in relief.
”Why announce the losers first? Why not just get it over with and say who won already?” Asks Hyunjin, who had been startled by the blare of the speaker.
“Some fucked up power trip,” Says Minho, the only one who hadn’t stood upon Chan’s arrival. “Those tyrants really like to make life hell.” He spits out the word ‘tyrants’ like poison. Minho is the only one gutsy enough to defy the Council out loud. God knows how much monitoring they have in this place. They won’t, or can’t, take action against him though, Chan makes sure of that.
The rest of the unit is silent. Minho scoffs.
Unit 02, eliminated. Unit 01 is the last remaining unit on the roster. Congratulations, brave soldiers.
Congratulations your ass. Your stomach twists at the sheer irony. They know, they all know, that it’s a suicide mission. The odds of survival are essentially zero. And they expect it to end that way. What they don’t know is that you’re going to beat those odds. You have to.
Chan claps twice, getting the attention of the Unit. “Right then. Get some rest, team. We dispatch in three days.”
—
Your bed seems too hard, yet too soft at the same time. No matter how much you toss and turn, you can’t get any rest. Even your usual warm glass of tea fails to still your mind.
You swing your legs over the side of your bed, letting them dangle as you rub your eyes. The headache from earlier remains heavy behind your eyes. It seems quite impossible to take your mind off of the mission ahead, which is by far the most perilous and important mission you have ever— and will ever— be sent on. How could one be calm, let alone untangle their thoughts enough to sleep?
The thin white plaster separating you from the others suddenly feels like a brick wall. How is nobody else awake? Usually, at this time of night, you’ll hear some milling about. Tonight? Nothing. It’s almost eerily quiet. It makes you uneasy. Some, like Jeongin or Minho, you know can rest under conditions like these, so it’s not too much of a stretch for them to be asleep. But Jisung? Felix? Chan? Someone has to be awake, you can’t be the only one feeling like you’re suffocating.
“___? Hey, I’m coming in,” The door slides open and you squint, unable to pick out a face from the shadows. Speak of the devil.
”Yeah, so, there’s this thing called knocking,” Your voice is snarky, but you find yourself wholly relieved to know you are not alone.
”Right, yeah, I’ll keep it in mind,” Chan flips on the lamp in the corner, illuminating the small space with a cool light. Your room is minimally decorated. A bed, a desk, and a lamp are all the novelties you deem necessary. You don’t like to make your space feel ‘homey’. This isn’t home, and it never will be.
Chan continues, “I wanted to talk with you.” He sits himself on the edge of your desk, clasping his hands together. He’s wearing the white, government-issued nightwear that is given to all unit members upon arrival. Honestly, you’re surprised he’s wearing that much considering he prefers to wear the least amount of clothing possible. Perhaps entering your room shirtless in the middle of the night could be deemed uncouth.
“‘Bout what?” You don’t miss the way Chan’s knee bounces repeatedly as you speak, feeling your heart sinking considerably. Chan likes to confide in you. Having known you the longest, it’s natural for him to come to you with his issues and likewise for you to come to him with yours. He doesn’t show what he calls “weakness” in front of the Unit, believing they’ll think less of him for it. No amount of convincing from you has ever soothed the worry from between his brows. You can only imagine the amount of distress he is under right now.
”I’m…” Chan trails off, picking at a loose thread on his trousers. “I’m scared, ___.”
The words resonate in your soul. Scared.
You listen quietly as he continues, “Scared I won’t be able to protect everyone. Scared that I might—“ he swallows thickly, and his voice wobbles a bit with his next words, “— lose one of you. The chances of us making it all alive are zero. Absolute zero. Someone isn’t going to make it, and I can’t do anything about it.”
Chan looks so… lost. His shoulders tilt inwards like he’d rather disappear, and honestly? You’re in the same boat. All your life, you’ve firmly believed that death was better than remaining down here. Now, you’re not so sure. Does that make you a coward? Or does it make you human?
“It’s gonna be alright.” The phrase tumbles from your mouth, foreign. It most definitely will not be alright, but you suppose empty comfort is comfort nonetheless.
Chan’s eyebrows shoot up in a rueful laugh as he meets your eyes. You both know how ridiculous you sound right now. To his credit though, he keeps his mouth shut— instead reaching over to plant his hand on your knee. The gesture is sweet, but far from comforting. You don’t miss the glistening in his eyes.
It’s too much. You gently move Chan’s hand off of you. He nods, understanding surpassing words.
The room feels colder when he leaves.
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