A/N: Hudson's appearance if anyone was wondering!
"For Time and Death and Mortal pain
Give wounds that will not heal again,
Let me remember half the woe
I've seen and heard and felt below,
And Heaven itself, so pure and blest,
Could never give my spirit rest..." -Emily Jane Brontë
The silence left in Na-yeon's wake was deafening. No one dared to speak. It was as if the room itself was holding its breath, waiting to see what would happen next.
Then Wu-jin moved.
Without a word, he stepped toward the door, jaw set, hands clenched at his sides. "She's not thinking straight," he muttered, reaching for the handle. "Maybe I can bring her back..."
Before he could open it, Ms. Park moved. She stepped directly into his path, blocking the door with her body. Her voice, when it came, was quiet but firm, carrying a note of pain in it's trail.
"Listen to me." Her eyes swept over the group, her students, her children in all but name. "No matter what… no matter how scared or angry or lost you are… you must stay alive."
Wu-jin froze.
"And you must never take a life," she continued, her voice trembling. "Because once you do, if you ever cause someone else to die, life becomes meaningless...all right?"
A single tear slid down her cheek.
Her plea wasn't just to Wu-jin. It was to all of them. A desperate teacher clinging to a shred of morality in a world that had stopped caring for such things.
Hudson stood silently nearby, leaning against the wall, the heavy container of supplies sitting beside him like a testament to everything he'd risked just to see these people again. He rubbed a hand down his face, eyes dark with exhaustion and loss.
"Please," he said softly, voice rough. "Don't. She's not worth it Sun-hwa…"
"It's good to have you back Hudson. Regardless of how it is you survived, they will need you. You will all need each other!" She said with her trademark smile.
She lingered for a heartbeat, maybe two, then opened the door and stepped into the hallway, vanishing into the shadowed corridor behind it. The door clicked shut again, and it might as well have slammed like a gunshot.
Dae-su broke first.
He dropped to his knees, hands shaking, face twisted into a grimace as tears began to stream. "God damn it…" he whispered. "Why is this happening…"
The emotional dominoes were falling, one after another, the weight of loss and fear too much for even the strongest among them to bear. It wasn't just Ms. Park. It was I-sak. Gyeong-su. Even Hudson, who had somehow cheated death, couldn't stop it...
Cheong-san stood motionless, eyes glassy, lips trembling. Then he turned. Without a word, he crossed the room and grabbed Hudson's hammer, the one he'd set gently on the floor minutes earlier. His hands trembled as he lifted it. Without protest from any in the room, he screamed, a raw, agonized sound that shattered the silence, and brought the hammer down on the metal doorframe to the recording room with brutal force.
CLANG.
CLANG.
CLANG.
Every strike carried the weight of a broken soul. Every curse he roared was a release for the hurt none of them could find words for. Rage. Sorrow. Guilt. Powerlessness.
Finally, he collapsed to his knees, the hammer falling with clanging of both wood and metal beside him. Su-hyeok was at his side in an instant, saying nothing. There were no words left. Just a quiet hand on his shoulder, a lifeline thrown in the storm.
Hudson sat slumped against the wall, silent. He looked at the floor, his mind turning over the tallied lost. And yet here he was, still breathing. The cruel irony wasn't lost on him.
In that moment, as the room descended into soft sobs and shivering silence, one truth echoed louder than anything else.
One hand gives…
And the other takes so much more than anyone could ever bargain for...
Ten minutes later.
With eerie stealth, Hudson had placed his hand on the door handle, something, for a moment, causing him to hesitate long enough for Su-hyeok to first take notice.
His grip on the hammer was steady, resolute, but the weight of what he was about to do sat heavy on his shoulders. He could suddenly feel every eye in the room on him, but his mind was already beyond the walls, out in the blood-slick hallways where Ms. Park might still be alive.
The door didn't budge.
"Move" Hudson demanded, the determination in his eyes a stark contrast to the gaunt facial features of an insomniac.
"No."
Dae-su stood firmly in front of it, arms spread like a human barricade. Beside him, Su-hyeok mirrored the stance, hand pressed flat against the door. There was no anger in his eyes, just desperation and something that while resolute, was far beyond grief at this point.
"You don't understand," Hudson said. "I'm changed. One of them, but still me....I don't know how to explain it, but I can walk among them. They don't even see me. I can bring her back."
"No," Su-hyeok said again, voice thick. "We're not losing you. Not again."
Hudson's jaw tensed.
"None of us heard screaming. She could still be out there, alive. You'd stop me from trying to save her?"
"She wouldn't want you to die for her," Su-hyeok said, not blinking. "And she sure as hell wouldn't want you to risk yourself again when we just got you back."
For a moment, the room was silent except for the ragged breathing of the dozen or so students packed within it. Cheong-san sat on the floor near the back, staring into nothing while subconsciously rubbing his blistered hands as he hunched over the hammer he'd dropped earlier. Nam-ra stood just a few steps away from Hudson, her expression unreadable, but her eyes never left him.
He sighed, the anger leaking from his frame like air from a tire. "You're not wrong," he admitted. "But if she doesn't come back...when you learn the whole truth... I need you to know I wanted to save her."
Silence took hold once more as Hudson stepped back from the door. He ran both hands through his hair and gave a tired, bitter chuckle.
"After everything... she believed in us. A teacher actually taking stock in her students these days...I guess, she was the closest thing to a second mum..."
"I know," Su-hyeok said quietly.
The weight of the moment lingered in the air like smoke, heavy and choking. Then Ji-min spoke, her voice cutting through the silence like a scalpel.
"We never told Na-yeon to go out there. Or Ms. Park. She made that choice. She acted like we were the monsters, for thinking she was a murderer. Why should we feel bad?"
Her words hung like a sword above them. No one responded at first. Some looked away. Others stared at the floor. But no one disagreed.
Because it was true. Gyeong-su hadn't done anything wrong, and Na-yeon had killed him with malignant arrogance in her veins. Ms. Park had gone after her with a bleeding heart and a blind hope that maybe, just maybe, she could bring her back in some capacity.
Moving to turn away, he was suddenly embraced by none other then Nam-ra. Something deep within pushed the room away from his senses. He could hear her heartbeat, the blood running through her veins, the faint scent of lavender through her hair. His muscles subtly spasmed as his eye shifted into a bright crimson. For so long he wanted to simply be in her circle, but now...he wanted a piece of her.
Suddenly forcing himself to turn away, he covered the left side of his face, gritting his teeth as he bit back the animalistic urge he'd seen consume the world around them.
Nam-ra took it at face value to give him space. She sank into a spot by the wall as the others began to drift into quieter spaces of the room. There were no answers waiting for them here, only moments of stillness between nightmares.
Two hours later.
A long period of stillness was broken by a plastic clink as Hudson snapped open the lid of the large container he'd lugged in like a war trophy. A hush fell over the room as everyone leaned in to look, curiosity giving way to stunned disbelief.
Inside were tightly packed rows of food and water, emergency rations of sorts. Boxes of sweet biscuits, stacks of ramen packets, and a full 24-pack of bottled water gleamed in the emergency lights like treasure. It was enough to keep them going for a few days, maybe more, if they were smart.
"No way," Su-hyeok breathed. "Where the hell did you find all this?"
Hudson gave a small shrug. "Cafeteria pantry. Guess no one made it there yet. Makes things a lot easier when they suddenly go from clawing at you, to completely ignoring you"
Dae-su let out a relieved sigh before grimacing. "Okay, this is great and all, but... what about the toilet situation?"
Hudson clapped his hands, standing up. "Fantastic. You all figure that out. I'll get us something hot to eat."
As Hudson's mind slipped to the thought of astonishment he felt at them disregarding his new-found 'condition', he plugged in an electric kettle he'd taken and set it up on a nearby filing cabinet. With methodical ease, he snapped four bricks of ramen into chunks and dropped them into the kettle. Two full water bottles went in next, followed by the satisfying click of the kettle engaging. He'd be ashamed to admit just how much experience he held in the field of lazy cooking.
Within minutes, the room filled with the unmistakable scent of boiling noodles, warm, savory, nostalgic. When it was ready, Hudson poured it carefully into six mismatched mugs they'd gathered from around the room, adding seasoning to each and stirring with the end of a pen he'd cleaned. Then he set the kettle back to boil, this time with just two bricks inside, stretching every resource as far as he could.
Each student was handed a steaming cup of noodles and a biscuit of their choice. A few chuckled at the brand names, cookies they'd once casually passed by on store shelves or had as children, now felt like luxury.
In the end, the toilet situation brought to light the groups best problem-solving skills. Three filing cabinets were arranged in a U shape to allow for privacy, with the 'toilet' being a cushion cut open and packed with both absorbent paper towl and packing peanuts.
"We'll drink one bottle of water a day," Nam-ra said evenly, her voice cutting through the warm hum of conversation. "No exceptions."
There was little room for debate, and no one offered one. Survival had rules now. Clear, cold rules.
"Oh, Hudson," Dae-su laughed, the weight in his voice breaking for just a second. "I love you, man! I'm so glad you're back!"
Before Hudson could react, he was wrapped in a bear hug that would've crushed a lesser man. Dae-su pulled back with an exaggerated gasp.
"Holy crap, dude, you've gained muscle! What the hell happened to you?"
Hudson smirked slightly. "Long story. Eat first. We'll talk after."
They settled into a strange peace, the kind that only came when the world outside had stopped making sense. Noodles slurped, biscuits nibbled, water sipped with care. For a moment, it almost felt like an ordinary night, friends gathered in one place, quiet and tired, but together.
Nam-ra approached him once the others were busy with their food. Her voice was soft, just above a whisper.
"Thank you... for what you did. You risked everything for us."
Hudson didn't meet her eyes at first. He kept his gaze low, focused on the swirling broth in his mug. When he did look up, his stare went far, past the room, past the school, past the burning city outside.
"How did you survive?" she asked, gently.
A long pause stretched between them. The buzz of the kettle reset in the background. The others' conversations faded to white noise.
Hudson blinked, and his eyes locked with hers, distant and cold.
"Here be monsters," he murmured.
For now, she left it at that, for she understood...
A few hours later.
The moonlight bled through the cracked blinds of the broadcasting room, casting fractured lines across the floor like scars on broken skin. The others slept where they could, huddled in corners, backs against walls, their breathing uneven, as if even in sleep their minds could not escape the soundless screams that were not soon to fade...
Hudson remained awake, seated against a cabinet with his hammer resting across his lap like a knight's sword laid to rest. His eyes were distant, unfocused, fixed somewhere far beyond the walls. He held the look of a man who was held as a beacon of hope, but to lost more then he'd bargained for in the span of a single day.
"Hey," came a whisper, gentle, almost carried away on the wind.
Nam-ra approached, her footsteps feather-light on the cold tile. She slid down beside him without ceremony, folding her knees to her chest. For a moment, they said nothing, simply breathing in the heavy silence together.
"Can't sleep?" she asked, her voice barely above the hum of distant death.
Hudson didn't look at her. His fingers absently traced a line on the hammer's handle. "No," he admitted. "I'm surprised anyone can. Though I suspect... this pebble in the boulder that is our lives will still bear the greatest scars." He exhaled slowly. "Nothing reminds us the past is real quite like scars."
"You've always had a strange way with words. Do you have a poet in your family or something?" She questioned with a soft smile.
A funny thought of her smiling almost being in Uncanny Valley territory crossed his mind momentarily, but was a change he otherwise welcomed.
"When my dad pushed me down the stairs, and I hit my head, my mum pulled no stops in ensuring I was looked at by any...The hell is Neurologist in Korean..." He pondered for a moment before continuing. "Brain doctor worth their salt. Several recommended I should be put through long-term developmental therapy, to basically ensure my brain worked properly as I grew up.
Doctor Patricia Baek was who I had for close to a decade. She often sighted Poetry, and was a large part of our sessions in the latter years. Ever since then, I've had an appreciation for literature of all kinds."
A silence deeper than quiet followed, one that settled in the bones, but somehow, despite her quite and walled demeanor, he knew she understood, was fascinated even, as her heartbeat began to accelerate.
"I'm... glad you're okay," Nam-ra said at last. "I saw you. When they... jumped you. Mauled you. I wanted so badly to help, but I couldn't. I was terrified."
Her words trembled as they left her lips, like ghosts she'd buried too long finally surfacing. She didn't look at him when she said it. She didn't need to.
Hudson's reply was steady. "I wouldn't have wanted you to. I chose to go out with a bang. Figured if I was going to die, I'd do it doing something that mattered. Whether it was the echo from the void that basically ruled by life before I met all of you, I'll never truly know." He hesitated, then added, softer, "Truth be told, I was happiest when I realized you were safe."
Nam-ra finally turned her head toward him, her brows knit faintly. "Why?"
Hudson chuckled under his breath, but it was hollow. "I thought it would've been obvious by now. Especially over the past few months. Shows what I know."
He looked at her now, really looked. The deep blue of his eyes shimmered in the dark. "The jokes. The bravado. The 'everything's fine' mask, it's bullshit. Most days, I feel more empty than anything. But you?" His voice lowered, thick with meaning. "You're not afraid to show people your walls. You taught me there's strength in silence." He paused, swallowing back the lump rising in his throat.
"I love you, Nam-ra..."
The words were simple, but they landed like thunder. There was no fanfare, no desperation. Just truth.
Nam-ra's eyes glistened faintly, but her voice remained steady. "You chose a hell of a time."
"I know," he said with a crooked smile. "But... there is the inevitable possibility of not many times being left."
Suddenly, as though she'd only now found the comfort to sleep, rested her head on his shoulder.
The next morning.
The sky outside was still an uncertain shade of blue, not quite morning but no longer night. The school remained silent, too silent. Even the 'undead' had their moments of stillness.
Su-hyeok stirred first, the cold floor beneath him stiffening his joints as he stretched and sat upright. The muffled ache of yesterday still clung to his muscles. His eyes scanned the room. Most were still asleep, curled up in makeshift beds or simply passed out from exhaustion, but one figure was already awake.
Hudson stood near the broken window, hammer leaning on the wall at his side, his silhouette quiet and unmoving. He didn't appear tired, only watching...Waiting.
"You been awake the whole night?" Su-hyeok asked softly, careful not to rouse the others.
Hudson didn't turn to look at him. His voice was calm, distant.
"By the rivers of Babylon we sat down, yea, we wept, when we remembered Zion. Remember, O Lord, the children of Edom in the day of Jerusalem who said Raze it, raze it, even to the foundation. O daughter of Babylon, who art to be destroyed. Happy shall he be, that rewardeth thee as thou hast served us. Happy shall he be, that taketh and dasheth thy little ones against the stones."
Su-hyeok blinked, unsure if he'd walked in on a prayer or a lament. "Sounds like the Bible..."
Hudson nodded, the corners of his mouth twitching into a bitter smile. "Didn't expect that thing to rise again," He murmured, admiring the sunset and scouting the outside world at the same time. "Yet here we are. Someone had to stand guard."
"You read the Bible often?"
"No, well, not as much as the faithful tend to do" Hudson replied. "But I can't lie and say it doesn't sometimes find a way to be... fitting."
The silence that followed was thick with unspoken fears. Su-hyeok sat beside him, drawing his knees up.
"Do you think anyone is coming?" he asked.
Hudson paused for a moment. His answer came quietly, but without hesitation.
"I don't know." His gaze didn't waver from the horizon. "To be pessimistically honest, If I were the government, I'd evacuate as many as possible before firebombing this whole city into ash. If there was even a chance it could spread, beyond Hyosan, beyond Korea even..."
He sighed, and for the first time, Su-hyeok noticed how tired Hudson looked, but physically and within his soul. "If they won't, someone will," he added. "And even if we make it out... whatever I've become doesn't belong out there."
Su-hyeok didn't know how to respond. What could he say to a friend who bled for them and came back changed, carrying the weight of miracles and monsters?
So he sat in silence, offering quiet solidarity.
Meanwhile in Seoul.
"What the fuck do you mean you can't reach the school?!" Amelia's voice echoed through the penthouse, raw with rage. "You've got God-knows-how-much firepower in the military! You should be rolling tanks through the streets. People's children are dying, and here you all are, dicks firmly in hand!"
She hurled the phone at the desk, the screen cracking against the wood in a spiderweb of fractures. Her breath was sharp and ragged, her hands clenched into white-knuckled fists.
"Lia..." Yuna's voice came soft, like a balm over broken glass. She stepped closer, gently placing a hand on her shoulder. "They're trying their best. None of us know what this even is."
Amelia didn't meet her eyes. She simply stood there, shoulders trembling, eyes bloodshot and rimmed with sleeplessness.
"When there is no more room left in Hell…" she muttered. "The dead shall walk the Earth."
A bitter smirk tugged at her lips as she reached for the glass of wine beside her. Only a swallow remained. She downed it in a single gulp, letting the burn distract her from the weight in her chest.
"Shame," she murmured. "There are a couple of names I would've liked to see their stay before it was all booked out."
Yuna glanced at the half-empty wine bottle, then back at Amelia. She didn't say anything at first. No judgment. Just presence.
Amelia leaned against the table, pressing her palms into the wood. Her voice dropped, hoarse with wear. "He could be out of the school... but they've cut off signal in the whole district. He could be walking right into a military perimeter, into safety, into custody, or worse…"
She paused, her expression cracking. "That boy... is the hardiest little bastard I've ever met."
Yuna smiled softly, stepping closer.
"And if all those cheap-ass Muay Thai lessons I got you both helped even a little," Amelia continued, a glimmer of pride flickering through the exhaustion, "those zombies won't know what the god damn hit them."
Without another word, Yuna embraced her. Not just a friendly pat on the back. A real, tight, soul-deep embrace. She pulled Amelia into her arms, letting her rest against her shoulder.
She breathed her in, Amelia's shampoo, faint jasmine and pine. Warmth against the chill of grief.
"I'm here..." Yuna whispered. "Always."
For now, that was enough.
Meanwhile in Hyosan.
As the light of dawn crept through the broken, shuttered windows of the broadcasting room, one by one, the others stirred from sleep. Blank stares and slow movements spoke louder than words, none of them had truly rested. The haunting churn of helicopter rotors had passed overhead throughout the night, distant and unheeding, like a rescue ship glimpsed from a stranded island, too far to flag down.
Hudson sat with his back against the wall, his sledgehammer by his side like a loyal companion. He rubbed his eyes as Nam-ra stirred beside him.
"Do you think they saw us?" On-jo asked quietly, her voice brittle with hope.
Hudson sighed and shook his head. "If they did, it didn't matter. The government would have declared Martial Law by now. They've probably sealed the area completely. No internet. No mobile towers. We're cut off. A fair way to avoid the spread of misinformation."
That drew attention. Dae-su sat up sharply, brows furrowed. "Wait, you have a phone? You could've called someone this whole time?!"
"It's no better then a flashlight now," Hudson replied, raising the device. "Reception dropped out yesterday, right after I managed to get one call through to my mom before the cut-off."
"But if she knows, maybe she can get help!" On-jo suggested, a flicker of energy returning to her voice.
"She's one person," Hudson said calmly, stating only reason without reigning on any parades "Thousands of people would be calling. Parents. Families. Politicians. The military probably filters it all. At best, she's a drop in the flood."
Silence fell again, tense and tight. Everyone sat with that truth, chewing on it like stale bread.
"Jeez," Dae-su muttered after a beat, rubbing the back of his neck. "First taxes, military conscription, and now no phones. What else can they take from us?"
"You don't even have a job yet, and you don't pay taxes," Hyo-rung shot back, arms crossed, eyebrow raised.
Dae-su shifted in his seat, lips twisting. "Still... the government sucks."
"I'll drink to that one," Hudson chuckled, unscrewing the lid of his large black water bottle and taking a sip. The metal clink echoed lightly in the room.
There was a strange comfort in that moment, a small, absurd echo of normal life inside the horror. But even laughter, however brief, was a precious thing.
An hour later.
Hudson stood calmy at the door, hammer in hand, the other placed on the knob. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breathe as his hearing projected like that of a bat, noting the infected and surrounding environment of the hall.
The others exchanged uncertain glances, eyes flitting toward the sealed door like it was a guillotine blade.
"Hudson, don't," Nam-ra urged. "You don't need to prove anything."
But he was already turning the handle.
With a subtle hiss of air, the door cracked open. Hudson stepped out into the hallway, his boots thudding softly against the floor as he stood tall, shoulders squared as he closed it behind him. He turned back briefly to the others peering anxiously through the glass window.
Then, he tapped the hammer three times on the ground, each echoing like the ringing of the dinner bell. Inside, the others tensed. Dae-su gripped a chair like a weapon. On-jo covered her mouth. Nam-ra's breath caught in her throat.
From the far end of the hallway, multiple shapes bolted forward, snarling, twitching, sprinting like death incarnate. Zombies, lips peeled back in a feral grin, arms flailing in anticipation of flesh.
And then… they stopped, just inches from him, one getting close enough to share the stench of it's necrotic breathe with him. The creature's head jerked side to side, sniffing, confused. It looked past him, through him, as if he were no more than a shadow on the wall.
Inside, Su-hyeok's eyes went wide. Cheong-san leaned closer to the glass in disbelief. Satisfied, Hudson nodded.
And in a flash, he gripped the sledgehammer by its long handle, swung it upward in a brutal under-arm arc, and shattered the creature's skull with a sickening crunch. The body crumpled to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut. He then followed with the others, their bodies caving and crumpling at the force of kicks, punches and hammer strikes.
Blood spattered his cheek, a few flecks catching on his brow. He reached calmly into his pocket, withdrew a tissue, and wiped the mess away with surgical precision.
Then, he turned back to the stunned faces behind the glass.
"Now," he said coolly as he stepped back inside, placing the bloodstained hammer down beside the door, "we're going to make a list. Food. Water. Medical supplies. Tools. Then we plan a grand distraction, then a route. And we get the hell out of here."
No one spoke. They didn't have to. They understood well by now.