The building was silent except for the occasional drip of water echoing through the cracked hallways. The group had barricaded themselves in one of the upper wards, a place that still smelled faintly of rotten flesh from the outside world.
Y/N sat cross-legged on the floor, sharpening the blade Jin had handed her earlier. The sound of steel against stone was rhythmic, almost calming, but her mind was anything but. Every shadow seemed alive. Every creak of the building felt like a warning.
Jungkook paced near the door, bow in hand, restless energy radiating off him. "We can't stay here forever," he muttered. "The food won't last. And the smell… it's going to draw them."
Namjoon, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, gave a slow nod. "I know. But moving without a plan is suicide." His voice carried the weight of leadership, but even he sounded tired.
It was then that Taehyung, who had been rummaging through a pile of abandoned supplies, let out a startled gasp. "Hyung… look at this."
Everyone turned. In his hands was a dusty, battered radio. The kind that looked like it belonged in another era—heavy, with a cracked antenna and a dial that had seen better days.
Yoongi raised an eyebrow. "That thing's ancient. Probably doesn't even work."
Taehyung's eyes gleamed with hope. "But what if it does?"
Jin stepped closer, inspecting it. "It's worth a try. If there's even a chance…"
Y/N felt her heart skip. A radio. A connection to something beyond these walls. Beyond the endless nightmare. She hadn't realized how desperately she craved the sound of another human voice until now.
They cleared a space on the floor, setting the radio down carefully. Jungkook crouched beside it, fiddling with the knobs. Static hissed, loud and grating, filling the room with a harsh reminder of the world's brokenness.
"Come on…" Jungkook muttered, adjusting the antenna. "Give me something."
Minutes passed. Just static.
Yoongi sighed, rubbing his temples. "We're wasting time."
But then—faint, buried beneath the noise—a voice.
"…Busan… shelter… survivors…"
Everyone froze.
"Wait, wait!" Namjoon hissed. "Turn it up!"
Jungkook twisted the dial, and suddenly the static cleared just enough for the words to come through.
"This is an emergency broadcast. All survivors are advised to evacuate Seoul immediately. A government strike will commence in forty-eight hours to contain the outbreak. Repeat: Seoul will be bombed in forty-eight hours. Survivors are to make their way to Busan, where a secure shelter has been established. Coordinates will follow…"
The room went deathly silent.
Y/N's breath caught in her throat. Bombed. Seoul would be bombed. The city that had once been alive with lights, music, laughter—it was now a graveyard, and soon it would be ash.
Jimin's hand trembled as he reached for Y/N's shoulder. "They're… they're going to destroy everything." His voice cracked, eyes wide with disbelief.
Jin clenched his jaw, staring at the radio as if it had betrayed him. "Forty-eight hours. That's all we have."
Namjoon's mind was already racing. "Busan. That's south. It's far, but… if there's a real shelter, it's our only chance."
Yoongi scoffed bitterly. "And how do you expect us to get there? Roads are crawling with the dead. Trains aren't running. We don't even know if the broadcast is real."
Taehyung's voice was quiet, almost pleading. "But what if it is? What if there really is a safe place?"
The group fell into silence again, each of them grappling with the impossible choice. Stay and face certain death—or risk everything on a journey that might kill them before they ever reached Busan.
Y/N's thoughts spiraled. Busan. A shelter. A chance at survival. But the idea of leaving Seoul, of abandoning the ruins of everything they had once known, felt like tearing out a piece of her soul.
She thought of her family—gone now, but buried somewhere in this city. She thought of the streets she had walked, the places that had once felt like home. And now, in forty-eight hours, it would all be erased.
Jungkook's voice broke through her thoughts. "We can make it. If we move fast, if we stick together… we can do it." His eyes burned with determination, the kind that made Y/N's chest ache.
Yoongi shook his head. "Optimism won't keep us alive. We need a plan. Routes, supplies, weapons. Otherwise, we won't even make it past the outskirts."
Namjoon nodded. "He's right. We can't just run blindly. We need to think this through."
They gathered around, spreading out the scraps of maps they had scavenged earlier. Namjoon traced a path with his finger, eyes narrowing. "If we head south, we'll have to cross the Han River. That's going to be dangerous. Bridges are choke points—too many zombies, too many chances to get trapped."
Jin leaned over, studying the map. "What about the old subway tunnels? Some of them might still connect. It's risky, but it could get us past the river without being exposed."
Yoongi frowned. "Tunnels are worse. One wrong turn and we're trapped underground with no way out."
Taehyung spoke softly. "But above ground, we're exposed. At least underground, we're hidden."
The debate raged, voices rising and falling, each suggestion met with fear and doubt.
Y/N listened, heart pounding, until finally she spoke. "We don't have the luxury of perfect choices. Every path is dangerous. But if Busan is real… if there's even a chance… we have to try."
Her words hung in the air, heavy but resolute.
Jimin's eyes softened as he looked at her. "You're right. We can't stay here. Not with the clock ticking."
Jin sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Then it's decided. We head for Busan."
Namjoon nodded firmly. "We move at dawn. Tonight, we rest. Tomorrow, we start."
Yoongi muttered under his breath, but didn't argue. Even he knew there was no other choice.
The group settled in for the night, but sleep was elusive. Every tick of the clock felt like a countdown to destruction.
Y/N lay awake, staring at the cracked ceiling, listening to the faint hum of the radio still playing in the background. The broadcast repeated every hour, the same words over and over: "Seoul will be bombed in forty-eight hours. Survivors are to evacuate to Busan…"
She closed her eyes, imagining Busan. A shelter. Safety. Maybe even hope.
But the image was fragile, easily shattered by the memory of blood, screams, and the endless march of the dead.
As dawn's first light crept through the broken windows, the group gathered their belongings. Weapons, food, water—everything they could carry.
Namjoon stood at the front, map in hand, determination etched into his face. "This is it. We move now."
Y/N tightened her grip on her knife, heart racing.
The radio crackled one last time, the broadcast repeating its grim warning.
"Seoul will be bombed in forty-eight hours. Survivors are to evacuate to Busan…"
And with that, they stepped out of the hospital, into the unknown.