Only now did Bella have the time to reach out to the world beyond the train and dig for news.
She hadn't known before she asked. Once she did, the answers left her cold.
Korea itself was in chaos, more than half of its outside communications cut. Seoul had already gone under martial law — no one in, no one out. The Korean military's combat strength was a joke, and the U.S. forces stationed in Korea were barely any better. There was no grinding, days-long battle to speak of; in under half an hour it was over. The zombies routed them completely, their battle record all but zero, and the fighting only spread the infection to more soldiers and civilians. Even the Americans' Yongsan Garrison had fallen.
Before 1994, all Korean forces had answered to American command. After 1994, Korea took back command of its own troops during "peacetime" — but how exactly was "peacetime" defined? The moment gunfire rang out, it no longer counted as "peacetime." In other words, Korea's military was still under American command right now — and American command was, frankly, useless.
From Incheon to Seoul and the cities ringing them — Daejeon, Gwangju, Daegu, and Busan, the train's own destination — every one of them was swallowed by chaos. What was actually happening inside each city? No one could say for certain. Some places had already triggered their bioweapon-containment protocols; others still believed this was nothing more than a civilian riot; and a few were convinced it was a political conspiracy aimed at the sitting president. The Blue House, for its part, had put out a statement full of hard, defiant language.
Things were a mess on the American side too. A crowd of legislators wanted the troops in Korea pulled home at once, and Benjamin Asher — a president with an iron streak — would have none of it. Not only did he refuse, he wanted to send reinforcements and fly to Korea to command the operation in person. Mercifully, lawmakers and security advisers managed to talk him down.
Bella worked the phones the whole way, and nearly all of it was bad news. The only bright spot came from Chris and Claire Redfield.
"The BSAA has a spray that can temporarily hide people from a zombie's sight and hearing. Trouble is, our transport capacity is limited."
"Perfect. Let me solve the transport problem for you."
Bella immediately got in touch with her father and had him reach out to the sitting president, Benjamin Asher.
Having inherited the better half of the Black president's political resources, Charlie now counted as a significant figure in the opposition party — enough to make his voice heard in Congress. Asher knew full well that there was a strong chance Charlie would be his rival when he ran for reelection in four years, but the man genuinely had a sense of duty, and he agreed without a moment's hesitation.
The plan was to use U.S. military transport planes to spray the isolation agent over Seoul, Gwangju, Busan, and other cities — get the people out first and worry about everything else later. Every civilian saved now was a victory in itself.
Bella also passed the coordinates of that earlier flesh monster along to the U.S. military; let the military experts and biovirus specialists study it. Whether they used a Hellfire missile or some other long-range strike was entirely up to them. This was a matter between nations, not something she needed to handle personally, and whatever diplomatic mess the missiles kicked up had nothing to do with her.
Having sorted through the outside situation, Bella turned her attention back to the here and now.
Opening a portal and whisking a whole trainload of people away wasn't an option.
Magic was not meant to be known to the world — that was Kamar-Taj's ironclad law. When Doctor Strange opened a portal in Avengers: Endgame to move an army in to reinforce Captain America, it was because the situation had reached its absolute breaking point, and by then he was already the Sorcerer Supreme, free to bend a few of the rules. Bella wasn't at that level yet, so for now she still had to play by the rules.
She couldn't very well perform a portal spell in front of dozens, even upwards of a hundred, people. And the real problem was that she had no idea where to send them anyway. To California? What if some of them were infected? To another Korean city? What if they walked out of the portal straight into a horde of zombies? None of it worked. For now, all she could do was stay with the train.
…
"What? We're stopping?"
Feeling the train suddenly begin to slow, Bella turned quickly to the female attendant beside her. The woman radioed the conductor, and after a stream of Korean, she reported, "The conductor says we'll stop up ahead. There's a military unit there to receive us."
Bella had zero confidence in the fighting ability of Korea's finest, but she didn't object. Handing these Korean civilians over to the local army would let her travel light — and Charlie was anxiously pushing her to hurry back home anyway.
The train soon pulled in at Daejeon Station. Daejeon was Korea's sixth-largest city, home to a million and a half people, yet as the train crept slowly into the station, they found the whole place silent, without the faintest sign of movement anywhere in the city.
Passengers pressed against the windows, scanning for the army, for any sign of a rescue team.
"Don't get off. Something's wrong here!"
Bella threw out an arm and stopped several of them. Everyone in her car trusted her judgment by now, and they all held their ground — but up in the forward cars, plenty of passengers had already stepped down.
"It should be fine, shouldn't it? Didn't the conductor say the army had already moved into the city?" the round-faced attendant asked, her face tight with worry.
Everyone had their own read on it, and as more and more passengers stepped safely onto the platform, they began muttering among themselves.
"All of you, quiet! Do you have any idea what's happening in that city right now? Do you know what'll happen if you get off?"
Bella forced down the various objections and looked over at the heavyset wrestler — though for the moment his name escaped her.
"Never mind my name! If you've got something to say, say it!" the wrestler grumbled, plainly annoyed. In truth, he had no wish to go rushing into the city either, not with a pregnant wife at his side.
"You're quick on your feet," Bella said. "Go take a look at the platform. If it's clear, come back and get us. If it's not… then run like hell back here. We'll wait for you in the forward cars."
The wrestler looked strong as an ox, with a broad, brutish face and none of the pretty-boy looks Korea traditionally prized. On his own, he'd be far better equipped to handle whatever came up.
No one would object to sending a scout ahead. And they all knew how much he loved his wife — with her still aboard the train, there was no worry he'd run off and never return.
"Anyone who trusts me, come with me. Gather everything you can — food, drinking water, medicine, warm clothes. After that we move up to the forward cars."
A noisy scramble broke out, people ransacking every corner for supplies, finders keepers, before they filed forward like a column of refugees.
"Mmmph! Mmmmph!" Bound into a helpless bundle, the middle-aged man in the suit thrashed with everything he had.
The man was selfish to the bone, without a shred of conscience — keeping him alive was a waste of food. Still, putting a bullet in him outright didn't sit right either. Bella pretended not to see, slung her satchel over her shoulder, and walked on toward the forward cars. None of the remaining passengers had any tie to the middle-aged man in the suit, and no one was willing to speak up for him, so they all chose to look the other way and simply left him there, hands and feet bound, in Car 11.