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Kang Ji-a woke up a couple of minutes before Jin-ho reached the camp, where she saw many survivors being searched.
"Will you be okay?" He asked the girl as he helped her out of the car.
"Yes, thank you." She bowed her hooded head and limped over to join the others.
As she walked, she noticed the same soldier who had tried to help her with a group of survivors, saying he needed to go and that he should report in 'cause duty calls'.
As he turned his head, his eyes met with the same soulless eyes staring back at him before the girl averted her gaze and continued walking.
"Please enter in an orderly fashion." One of the soldiers said as they all got searched before placing any of their belongings in a storage rack and then going through.
Ji-a slightly flinched when the soldier searched her a little too roughly. She moved forward, noticing a man who refused to put down his belongings, and as the soldiers started to search him, they found a gun.
Two soldiers grabbed the man and dragged him away, and as they did, a gun fell from his bag. He pushed the soldiers away and went to take his gun, but was beaten by the soldiers and dragged away.
"Move it, keep going." A soldier said.
Ji-a kept her head down, her hands in her pocket, and walked with the other people. She gripped the picture that she had taken from her house before she left when her mother turned and tried to kill her.
She took it out and looked at the 10-year-old girl with a baby blue hoodie and dark brown locks of hair that reached her midback, smiling at the camera with two older boys: one 10-year-old with glasses and a 13-year-old boy with a bad haircut.
That was 10 years ago before she got separated from them after her parents divorced, and she lived with her mom.
They reached an area where they were cut on the back of their hands, and if the cut healed quickly, they were infected and quarantined, only to be killed.
Kang Ji-a didn't care if she was a monster; her life was shitty anyway. Staying at the base would only remind her of what she had lost after the "curse" spread.
She walked forward, extending her right hand. The small cut on the back of her hand slowly started bleeding. She followed the line of people to get her temperature checked and get a stamp on the cut that was written, "Human Republic of Korea."
She put her hand through the see-through curtains, and the man in the mask looked up at the girl before wiping the blood away and pressing the stamp on her cleaned and disinfected cut.
As she was walking out, she saw a man whose cut had healed and was being escorted out because fast healing was a sign of infection.
She raised her stamped hand and was allowed to walk through. She was shocked that her temperature had gone back to normal.
