POV: Jun-ho
The first light of dawn seeped through the narrow dorm windows, washing the common room in a muted gray.
Dust hung in the air, disturbed only by the nervous movements of students as they gathered supplies—boards, metal rods, old sports equipment, even kitchen knives pressed into service.
I moved among them with a steady calm I didn't always feel, issuing instructions and keeping an eye on every corner.
"Stack the chairs against the windows first. Keep the weaker boards on the bottom, stronger ones on top." I said, demonstrating with a desk.
Some students nodded eagerly; others froze, unsure how to contribute. I guided hands where necessary, showing them how to wedge planks, tie ropes, and brace doors. I couldn't let panic dictate our survival.
Minjae and Ara worked side by side at one barricade near the stairwell. Minjae's hands trembled slightly as he lifted a board too heavy for him.
"Here, let me—" Ara stepped forward, adjusting the board. Their shoulders brushed briefly, and I noticed Minjae's eyes widen. I stayed back, arms crossed, watching carefully.
A small part of me marveled at the way they coordinated instinctively, without needing my direction, yet still under my gaze. It was subtle, almost tender—humanity persisting even in the midst of chaos.
Minjae tripped over a loose plank and went sprawling across the floor, letting out a sharp yelp. For a moment, the room held its breath.
Then he scrambled up, cheeks red, giving a sheepish grin. "I'm fine! Totally fine. Nothing to see here."
A few students snickered. Even Ara allowed a tiny smile. The tension in the room loosened just enough to let out quiet laughter. I couldn't help the corner of my mouth lifting.
Moments like this—fragile, fleeting—they remind us why we fight to survive.
—
By mid-morning, we could hear movement outside: shuffling, low groans, the occasional snapping of twigs. The infected had gathered at the dorm perimeter, drawn by sound, smell, or instinct.
I signaled for silence and crouched near the front window.
Through the gaps in our barricades, I watched them move. Not mindlessly—they had patterns.
They circled, paused, sometimes stared at the windows, then moved again.
"This isn't random." I muttered to myself, then louder: "Everyone—observe. They react to noise and movement. Keep still if they're near. Only make noise when necessary."
Some students hesitated. I could see their fear, raw and trembling. But giving them rules, showing them patterns, gave them a thread of hope—a sliver of control.
—
The first real confrontation came sooner than expected. One infected shuffled too close to the side corridor, sniffing the air. It lunged at a group of students peeking from behind a barricade.
I acted instantly, lunging forward with trained precision.
Using my MMA and judo skills, I grabbed its arm, twisted its momentum, and threw it against the wall. Its body collapsed with a heavy thud, groaning, but still alive. I held my grip, immobilizing it without striking lethally. "Stay calm. We don't have to kill if we can control it." I told the students, breathing harshly.
The students stared, wide-eyed, some whispering encouragement, some still trembling.
For a fleeting moment, I saw trust—trust that I could guide them through this nightmare. Minutes passed with tense silence broken by small, cautious movements.
The students reinforced barricades, kept watch, and whispered to one another. Minjae adjusted a plank, and Ara leaned close to him, murmuring directions.
My eyes softened at the sight—they were beginning to rely on each other, to cooperate.
Even the smallest victories mattered: a barricade holding, an infected redirected, a student encouraged to keep calm. By afternoon, our defenses had stabilized. The dorm felt safer—not safe, but safer. The panic from the first loss still lingered, but morale had improved.
Students looked to me, sometimes seeking approval, sometimes asking for direction. It was subtle, but unmistakable: I was beginning to emerge as a leader.
This is the beginning. If we survive today, we can survive tomorrow.
—
As dusk approached, strange noises echoed from the forest beyond the dorm. Twigs snapped, leaves rustled, and low growls carried on the wind. The infected were not just outside the perimeter—they were coming. Slowly. Strategically.
I felt a chill run down my spine, but I did not panic. The students looked to me again, and I held their gaze.
"Prepare yourselves. They're learning. And so are we." I said, voice calm but firm. Ara glanced at me, silent understanding passing between us. Minjae adjusted his stance, pretending to look confident but betraying nerves. The others tightened their grips on whatever makeshift weapons they had.
The first wave was coming. And we would meet it together.