Chapter 5: THE COST OF SURVIVAL

"Watch out!" Dalle's scream pierced the air as she hurled herself at Minhee. The usually composed girl stumbled backwards, caught completely off-guard as they tumbled to the floor.

A gunshot cracked through the hallway, the bullet embedding itself in the wall mere inches from where they had stood. The sound echoed off the walls, leaving a high-pitched ringing in Dalle's ears.

Movement caught Minhee's eye—one of the corpses they'd passed was stirring. Her body responded with predatory grace, rolling smoothly across the blood-stained floor. The metallic scent of blood filled her nostrils as she moved, her uniform soaking up the crimson liquid beneath her. In one fluid motion, she drew her pistol and fired.

The shot echoed through the corridor as the hidden attacker slumped back, a precise hole through their forehead. Small droplets of blood spattered across the white wall behind them, a gruesome constellation against the sterile surface.

Minhee rose to her feet, grimacing at the blood now staining her uniform dress. The once-pristine fabric was painted with streaks of red, turning darker by the second.

She reached down to help Dalle up, her expression conflicted. "Thanks," she muttered, the word seeming to catch in her throat, as if she'd forgotten how to express gratitude.

Dalle's eyes widened at the unexpected acknowledgment, but her stomach lurched as she caught sight of their attacker's lifeless body. The person—she couldn't tell who they were beneath the blood—couldn't have been much older than them.

Minhee's voice cut through her nausea. "Keep up. We need to move." Her tone had hardened, any trace of earlier casualness gone.

"I didn't expect them to use corpses as cover. These aren't ordinary teenagers anymore." Minhee thought

"Take my back," Minhee commanded, stretching her pistol forward in a practised stance. The way she held the weapon spoke of experience—too much experience for a high school student.

Dalle swallowed hard and mimicked the position, trying to steady her trembling hands. Her heart thundered in her chest as they made their way through the corridor, stepping carefully over the bodies of their former classmates. Each face they passed was a reminder of shared lunches, classroom jokes, and a normal life that seemed impossibly distant now.

"Where are we going?" Dalle whispered, but Minhee remained silent, her footsteps careful and measured against the blood-slicked floor. Frustration bubbled up in Dalle's chest, but she bit it back.

Yes, she'd saved Minhee from that bullet, but the cold efficiency with which the other girl had eliminated their attacker was a stark reminder—Minhee was her best chance at survival, however unnerving that might be. The weight of the pistol in her hands felt wrong, like a sin made metal.

Suddenly, Minhee stopped, causing Dalle to bump softly into her back. The girl's muscles were tense, coiled like a spring ready to release. Before Dalle could question the halt, Minhee's hand clamped over her mouth. The pressure was firm but not cruel, her palm warm against Dalle's lips. "Company," she breathed into Dalle's ear, gesturing toward the notice board mounted on the wall ahead.

Dalle's eyes followed the reflection in the board's glass surface, and her blood ran cold. A makeshift barricade of chairs and desks blocked the corridor ahead, manned by three students.

Two crouched at the sides, assault rifles at the ready, while the one in the middle cradled a shotgun. The weapons looked out of place in their trembling teenage hands, like props from a movie that had suddenly become terrifyingly real.

"What do we do?" Dalle whispered, her hand shaking as she gripped her pistol tighter, the cold metal doing nothing to calm her racing thoughts. Through the reflection, she could see the determined set of Minhee's jaw, calculating, planning. In that moment, Dalle realized that whether she liked it or not, more blood would stain these halls before the day was done.

"Stay put," Minhee whispered, her breath steady despite the tension. She edged forward, allowing just the barrel of her pistol to peek around the corner. The armed students didn't react—no shouts, no gunfire, nothing. A small smile played at the corner of her mouth as understanding dawned.

These girls might have become killers, but they were still amateurs. Real combat experience couldn't be gained in a few hours, no matter how desperate the situation.

Minhee drew in a deep breath, feeling the familiar rush of adrenaline flood her system. Her pupils dilated, eyes taking on the focused intensity of a predator sizing up its prey. In one fluid motion, she spun from cover, her pistol already aligned with her first target.

The shot cracked through the air, and the girl on the left crumpled, her assault rifle clattering to the floor.

The remaining two students reacted with panic, their weapons blazing. Minhee tucked her pistol close to her body, moving like water through the storm of bullets. The fluorescent lights above shattered, raining glass as the inexperienced shooters sprayed wildly.

"Kill her! Just fucking kill her!" the girl with the shotgun screamed, her voice cracking with hysteria.

"I can't!" her companion shrieked back, emptying her magazine in increasingly desperate bursts. "She's reading my movements—it's like she knows where I'm going to shoot!"

Minhee's next shot found its mark with surgical precision. The second girl's assault rifle dropped from lifeless fingers as she slumped against the barricade. The last defender fumbled with her shotgun, hands shaking as she tried to reload. Her eyes were wide with terror as she tracked Minhee's approach.

Breaking into a sprint, Minhee closed the distance. The girl finally chambered a round, raising the shotgun with trembling hands. But Minhee was already moving, dropping into a slide across the blood-slicked floor. Her final shot echoed through the corridor as the last defender fell, her shotgun clattering uselessly beside her.