Chapter 8: The Message in the Rain

One by one, two by two, three by three, as they passed countless unlit shelters, the incinerator gradually came into view.

In the middle of the parched land where not a single blade of grass grew, a black rectangular prism stood tall like a barricade. It was the incinerator, where all the waste discharged from various regions collected.

A place where the existence of the workers inside, and even the nature of the waste itself, were shrouded in secrecy, blocked by black walls.

All that was known was that occasionally animal bones or metal would be filtered out of the waste disposal opening at the incinerator’s back gate.

After passing this area, they had to walk a long way without any landmarks.
Cheche pulled Yeosu’s clothes tighter and walked along the outer wall of the incinerator.

The front of the rectangular prism grew closer.
It was practically the last stretch of road.
Yeosu hastily covered her mouth, trying to suppress a sneeze from the dust emanating from the incinerator.

Here, even small sounds echoed.
This was due to Juseong’s intruder alarm system attached to the inner wall.

‘Stop.’

Then, Cheche blocked Yeosu’s path.
The sound of tires crushing rough grains of sand and rolling.
The location was the main gate.

‘Is it a garbage truck?’
Cheche held her breath and approached where the vehicle had stopped.

The cargo compartment, tire wheels, and chassis came into view in sequence.
A moment later, someone walked out from the driver’s seat.

The moment she confirmed the silhouette, Cheche’s fists clenched.
A navy blue uniform with polyhedral patterns etched on it.

It was Juseong’s military, specifically the Special Star Army (Seonggundae), known for being the most vicious.
Next to him stood Oteb, who had visited her shelter a few days ago.

“So, how many today?”

“Twenty-three.”

“Fewer than I thought. I understood there were more children in incinerator 200.”

“More than half died from an epidemic last year. Still, the situation is better than other incinerators. Even if the numbers aren’t large, their limbs are intact.”

“That’s true.”

The human soldier nodded nonchalantly and surveyed the surroundings.
Cheche pulled Yeosu closer, completely enveloping her in her embrace.

So that she wouldn’t hear or see anything.
Yeosu found it hard to breathe from the pressure.
But she couldn’t make a sound.

Even though she was young, she wasn’t without discernment.
They were ‘enemies.’
Ones who could hunt them at any moment.

” It will proceed as scheduled.”

“Is it approved?”

“Yes. All incinerators .”

“Even children who didn’t go to the screening center?”

“Of course.”

The reason the two men’s low voices sounded especially faint around the incinerator, where not even the sound of wind could be heard, was not just due to distance.

They were using a lightweight voice modulator.

Juseong’s voice modulators generally added static to certain words.
Only the person allowed by the speaker could hear a clear, static-free voice.
But there were loopholes.

For example, inducing conflict with other devices.
Then, one could temporarily overhear the static-free voice.

Knowing this, Cheche pressed her ear against the outer wall of the incinerator, where the intruder alarm was attached.

Her ears instantly grew hot, as if her eardrums would tear from the proximity to the inner wall’s vibrations, but she could still endure it.

Soon, the man’s voice penetrated her ear like a thin thread.

She heard it. But had she really heard it correctly?

“Slaughter them.”

The voice continued. Along with a faint chuckle.

“It’s not as if all livestock must be raised.”

“Ah, that’s right.”

“Especially the sickly ones.”

Oteb, who had gone behind the truck, opened the cargo compartment.
Black human arms and legs tumbled out.
The cargo compartment, filled with corpses, immediately spewed out the parts that hadn’t been fully digested the moment the door opened.

“With this, Incinerator 203 has been fully slaughtered.”

“Next is this place. Not a single one must be missed.”

Cheche removed her ear, which was red as if burned.
Her hands trembled.

“Uh… Mom?”

Even when Yeosu, who had endured well in her embrace, finally spoke, Cheche was staring straight ahead.
Her jaws clenched tightly.

‘We have to go back.’

Cheche prevented Yeosu from looking ahead and began to walk back the way they had come.

Even with her legs dangling from the rapid pace, Yeosu didn’t speak to her mother.
As the two headed back to the shelter, someone watched their retreating figures.

The man spoke.

“Those ones.”

Oteb, who had pulled up the corners of his mouth as if he had caught something interesting, answered.

“…They will require investigation.”

It rained on the way back.
Yeosu, whose only coat was soaking wet, entered the shelter with a tearful face.

It was just as Cheche was about to follow the child into the tent.
At her feet, a flyer, soaked in rainwater, caught her eye.

Were the propaganda airships still flying around?
But she hadn’t heard the sound of a flight today.

She looked back, and a few flyers were scattered around the neighboring shelters as well.
Someone must have personally scattered the flyers as they passed by, or if not, it was the work of a small drone.

Cheche, for some reason, brought the flyer inside, which she would normally have left alone.

Yeosu sat in front of the brazier as usual and lit a fire.
She might have been curious about her mother’s sudden decision to return to the shelter, but she didn’t ask anything.

In fact, it was the child’s familiar resignation.
It wasn’t the first or second time they had encountered human soldiers while moving residences.

Cheche, watching the child’s back, suddenly read the flyer.
The same words, instructing them to send the children to the screening center.

However, the moment she turned to the back page where the map was drawn, her face hardened.

[Send your children to the screening center.]

The messy handwriting, deliberately wavy like a child’s scribble, was in a barbaric language.
And this was the only barbaric language Cheche knew.

During Juseong’s full-scale colonization of Earth, they rummaged through the brains of surviving humans to acquire information about their native languages.
However, in some countries, the number of survivors was extremely small, so that process was omitted.

This barbaric language was also the same.
It was one of the barbaric languages that Juseong failed to track, meaning it was an obsolete language that no longer existed on Earth.

It was also the official code of ‘Seoul,’ the human allied forces that had survived Juseong’s surveillance for the longest time.

Cheche wiped her face with a damp hand.
‘Was ‘Seoul’ still in existence?’
After the large-scale suppression operation 10 years ago, she thought they had all scattered.

As the excitement subsided, the events of a moment ago came to mind.
Her mind finally began to work calmly.

“This will proceed as scheduled.”

“Is it approved?”

“Yes. All incinerators will be there.”

The word that the voice modulator deleted.
Although she couldn’t know it precisely, it was clear that it referred to some project related to unregistered individuals.

The word ‘approved’ must mean it passed the higher-ups.
It meant that execution was not far off.

“Even children who didn’t go to the screening center?”

Oteb had asked the human soldier that, as if ‘children’ were excluded from the project from the start.

“It’s not as if all livestock must be raised.”

“Especially the sickly ones.”

However, children who chose to remain in the incinerator would be massacred.
For example, children with poor physical health.

So, was the project the elimination of unregistered individuals who couldn’t be used as racehorses?
Having realized that much, Cheche checked the barbaric language written on the flyer again.

[Send your children to the screening center.]

This had to be a message from ‘Seoul.’
The only place this barbaric language could be learned and mastered was there.

The fact that the message was specifically sent in a barbaric language was perhaps for any allied forces that might still be remaining in the incinerator.

Unless they were ‘impure breeds,’ refugees were already sending their children to the screening center to survive.

So, this message must have been for the ‘impure breed’ type who would not make such a choice.

“…”

Veins bulged on Cheche’s hand clutching the flyer.
She looked at Yeosu, who was drying her wet clothes in front of the fire.

Cheche absolutely did not want to push her child into that unconscionable race, which treated humans like racehorses and deliberately forced them into danger for mere entertainment.

But was there any other way?
Cheche could not guarantee that Yeosu would be safe in the shelter without sending her to the screening center.

There was also the option of just running away without a plan.
But how long could they last?
Three days? Four days?
Human soldiers were already advancing on other shelters, weren’t they?

Perhaps with luck, they could last a month.
But what then?
How long could she continue to be lucky with her child?

Cheche walked out of the shelter.
Ash-like gray rain poured down on her entire body.

The remaining flyers, which no one had picked up, were still stuck in the mud.
Gazing at them, Cheche looked up at the pitch-black night sky, where not even stars were visible.