A Race to New World // ATEEZ Dystopia AU

3 | Yunho

Gimpo International Airport, South Korea

I didn't even get the chance to warn him of potential danger before Jongho ran off towards the jet, leaving me to watch his figure fade into the smoke and smog.

As much as I wanted to go after him, to escape the screams and cries around me that constantly served as stabs of dread, shame, and guilt straight into my heart, my body wouldn't listen. If I did so much as to pick up my snail-walking pace by a little, it would feel like someone had wrapped a rope around my airways and was squeezing them shut.

Even before this apocalypse started, I already felt like a burden, a liability for my younger brother. I was two years older, yet I never protected him. It was only ever the other way round.

I forced myself to take a few deep breaths before continuing my trek. I couldn't afford to get sentimental in the middle of chaos, when I knew it was only a matter of time before the Invincs caught up. Besides, Jongho was waiting for me.

I had to stop a few times to catch my breath because the air was choking me, but - as pathetic as it sounded - I was proud to have gone so far without even a sip of water. I had promised myself to use our stash as sparingly as possible.

I was perhaps a few steps away from the foot of the airstairs when I caught something shiny in the corner of my eyes.

It might be a weapon, or something useful, I found myself thinking. I tried to imagine the relief on Jongho's face if I really managed to bring a firearm back. Those barely had any effect on the robots, but he was always wary of other people.

The mysterious object was under the jet, covered in shadows. As I got closer, however, the shine disappeared and was replaced with a large, irregular-shaped silhouette.

I stopped in my tracks, my heart picking up pace. For a split second I thought it was an Invinc, but I couldn't find the distinctive glow of their red eyes, and I was pretty sure they didn't bleed either.

Blood. It was a human, and an injured one, too.

The jet was a bit shorter than the typical commercial planes, so I had to bend down as I approach. When I was near enough, I dropped on my knees to inspect the person.

He was a young man, lying slightly curled on the ground, clutching his lacerated leg. I coughed and wheezed as I tried to push him up in a sitting position against one of the jet wheels.

He winced at the pain, but his face told me he wasn't in the worst condition. If he didn't stop the bleeding soon, though, he might faint.

So I took out one of my extra t-shirts from my backpack and wrapped it around his wound, applying pressure to it. My medical knowledge only came this far, but he seemed to be grateful for my help.

I planned to bring him with me onto the plane, so he could at least have a comfortable place to rest, but I decided to let him catch his breath first.

"Thank you," the man said softly.

I looked up and saw his face clearly for the first time. He had medium-length hair that covered his ears, but instead of being tangled and disheveled like me and my brother's, his was considered neat and parted down the middle.

Suddenly, I felt very conscious of my tattered clothes, my mud-stained face, my dirty fingernails, my derelict state. I looked down at the concrete floor.

"My name is Yeosang," he continued. "I tripped on my own foot while running and one of the Invincs did this." He gestured to the gash on his right calf. "Luckily it got distracted by someone else, and I escaped. I dropped my bag - all my things - and I thought I was going to die here." He chuckled ruefully. "You're my savior, really. I don't really have a lot of friends, but my parents are waiting for me in New World. So thank you."

His candor caught my interest. At times like this, people were usually very cautious in what they shared to strangers. The fact that he admitted his parents were able to get on a spaceship was enough to aggravate anyone to just leave him to die, or worse, make it happen themselves. Simply said, his words could seem cocky to others.

But I was not the same. Instead, my lips slowly stretched into a smile. "I just did what I thought I should. I'm Yunho, and my brother is on this plane right now. Come with us. We might be able to go somewhere with a bigger spaceship and more spots."

I stood and help him up, letting him lean on me even though I was already close to the limit of physical exertion my asthma could handle.

As we made our way up the stairs, I worried about how Jongho would react to this. I knew he would never approve, but it made me feel better just by helping others. It made me less guilty, and more useful.

It didn't take long for me to learn that Jongho wasn't the only one on the plane. I heard shouts, and Yeosang exchanged eye contact with me. We both sped up until we stood at the door and had a better view of the inside.

Jongho had his knife out, pointing at a taller man in a pilot suit.

"Look, I know why you want to go to America, but are you deaf or something?" The pilot threw his hands in the air. "I told you we don't have enough fuel! I might be able to get us to Canada. Do you want that or not?"

Jongho's grip on his knife tightened, and judging by the way his lips were slightly trembling as if he was mumbling something, I knew he was giving in.

My brother dropped his hand and, begrudgingly, said, "fine."

That was when I noticed a third guy standing by the side. He sighed and opened his mouth to say something, but it came out like a gasp as he spotted Yeosang and I.

Jongho and the pilot turned their heads.

"Yah!" The pilot shouted, his face instantly red. "Who are you?" He stared at me, then at Jongho, who was glaring at him. "I only agreed on letting your brother on. Who's the other guy?"

It was my turn to be glared at. "Hyung, who's that? I told you, we cannot afford to help others! Bring him back to where you found him, and let's go."

I felt Yeosang flinch next to me, and a flame sparked inside me.

Sometimes, Jongho had to use more extreme ways to ensure our safety and to increase our chances of escaping Earth. I knew he was only trying to protect me - his mind was so simple it only worked that way - but this was going too far. He made it sound like Yeosang was a stray animal I found on the streets!

"Choi Jongho! No, both of you!" I shot a glance at the pilot. "Look around you! Look at this plane! We should be filling up all these seats to bring everyone out there to safety! You should be sorry of yourselves!"

All three men on the jet stared at me with wide, unblinking eyes.

"Guys, I hate to break it to you, but a hoard of Invincs are coming," Yeosang said, pointing over his shoulder. "Along with more than fifty people."

The pilot cursed.

I could sense that I was close to an asthma attack, but I had to get it out. "Let Yeosang in now, or else I'll never let you close this door and we'd all die by the robots."

Jongho was quicker than the pilot to oblige, and he transferred Yeosang's weight from me to himself, guiding him towards a seat. The pilot looked out a window, cursed again and headed to the cockpit.

The soldier approached me with an apologetic look. "Will you be okay? I know someone who had asthma, too. I found a first-aid kit with an inhaler inside, so let me know if you need it." He put a hand on my back and led me to a seat. "Let's buckle up. My name's Hongjoong. And if I'm not mistaken, the pilot said that he's called Mingi."

Hongjoong made sure I was seated comfortably next to Jongho, then walked back to shut and lock the jet door. The last thing I heard before I sank into a deep sleep was the whooshing sound of the cabin being pressurized.