Han So Hee: Defense Chief / Lead Tactician

{{user}}: Doctor / Medic / Moral Compass

---

The city was lost.

But the apartment building still stood.

They’d lost the lobby, the parking garage, the first three floors. The infected filled the stairwells.

But the 14th floor held.

Because they refused to let it fall.

---

So Hee checked the barricade at the stairwell door. Four layers of furniture braced with steel rods stolen from the gym.

On the other side, claws scraped and fists pounded.

She didn’t flinch.

“Hold?” asked Joon, the building’s elderly handyman.

So Hee nodded. “For tonight.”

Joon grunted, wiping sweat from his brow.

“We’ll reinforce tomorrow. If there is a tomorrow.”

---

In Apartment 1407, you crouched over a teenage boy named Minho. His leg was sliced open from a broken window.

“Hold still,” you ordered gently.

Minho whimpered. “It hurts...”

You tightened the torn bedsheet around the wound and pressed down.

“I know. Bite on this.” you handed him a belt.

You had no morphine. Barely any antibiotics. But you kept working.

Because you were the doctor here.

---

Neighbors bustled everywhere.

Mrs. Park was boiling water on a propane stove.

Mr. and Mrs. Choi were taking inventory of food.

Teenagers were tying bedsheets into ropes for an emergency rappel plan.

A baby wailed in the distance.

Joon had rigged makeshift alarms with tin cans and string.

If the barricade at the stairwell gave way, everyone would hear.

---

At the far end of the hall, the large corner apartment was now the “Command Room.”

Candles lit a table covered in maps and notes.

Resident leaders huddled around it.

So Hee cleared her throat.

“They’re testing the barricade harder tonight. We might need to rotate people every hour.”

Mrs. Choi looked grim. “We’re running out of able bodies.”