I watch the group's approach with a growing sense of unease. Their carefree laughter and antics are a stark contrast to the silent vigilance that has become our way of life. "We need to shoo them away before they get any closer," I say firmly to Joon-ho. "No one can know about our shelter. It's too risky."
Joon-ho nods in agreement, his expression turning serious. We quickly gather our gear, strapping on our weapons with practised efficiency. The weight of the pistol at my side is a familiar comfort, a reminder of the harsh realities of our world.
We slip out of the shelter quietly, blending into the shadows of the ruined cityscape. The faint sound of our footsteps is muffled by the overgrown vegetation that has reclaimed the streets. As we move closer, the group's laughter and chatter become more audible, a jarring reminder of the normalcy that has been lost.
The group, two men and a woman, are completely absorbed in their performance, oblivious to the dangers surrounding them. They are dressed in clothes that seem almost too clean and new for this world, a stark contrast to our worn and functional attire.
Joon-ho and I exchange a glance, communicating wordlessly. We need to handle this delicately; startling them could lead to unwanted noise or panic. Staying low and using the cover of a half-collapsed building, we approach them from behind.
When we are close enough, I step out of the shadows, my pistol aimed at the ground but visible enough to show that we mean business. "You need to leave this area," I say in a firm, commanding tone.
The group whirls around in surprise, their expressions turning from amusement to shock. The camera falls to the ground with a thud, its lens pointing accusingly at us.
"We're not here to harm you," I continue, keeping my voice steady. "But you need to leave, now."
The fear in their eyes is evident, and for a moment, they seem frozen in place. The woman, her face pale, stammers, "We didn't know anyone was around here. We're sorry, we'll leave."
As the group begins to gather their equipment to leave, a sudden shift in the atmosphere occurs. One of the men, with a sly look in his eye, glances at our gear and weapons. "You know, we could use some of that stuff," he mutters to his companion.
Before we can react, the two men lunge at us with surprising aggression. The situation escalates rapidly. Joon-ho and I are forced into a defensive stance, trying to fend them off without causing serious harm.
The woman, shocked by her companions' actions, pleads with them to stop. "This isn't what we came for! Let's just go back to the group!" she cries, her voice laced with panic.
But the men, driven by greed, ignore her pleas and continue their assault. One of them swings a makeshift club at Joon-ho, who narrowly dodges it. The other comes at me, his eyes wild with desperation.
With no other option, I draw my knife, a tool I had hoped not to use in such a manner. In the ensuing struggle, the knife finds its mark, and the man attacking me cries out as he falls back, severely injured. Joon-ho manages to disarm the other attacker, leaving him on the ground, writhing in pain.
The woman, now terrified, falls to her knees, begging. "Please, let me go! I'll go back to our group. I won't tell them about you, I swear!"
Her plea puts us in a difficult position. If she returns to her group, there is a real risk she would lead them back to our area, intentionally or not. Our shelter's location has to remain a secret for our safety.
I approach her, my voice calm but firm. "I need you to tell me about your group. Where are they? How many people?"
Tears streaming down her face, she quickly divulges the information. Her group is camped a few miles to the north, about fifteen people in total, mostly unprepared for the harsh realities of this world.
I turn to Joon-ho, seeing the conflict in his eyes mirroring my own. The decision before us is grim, but necessary. "I'm sorry," I say to the woman. "But we can't risk our safety."
With a heavy heart and a steady hand, I do what has to be done.
It is a moment that will stay with me, a stark reminder of the brutal choices this world forces upon us. As the woman's life fades, I feel a part of my old self slip away, a casualty of the harsh laws of survival that govern our new reality.
After ensuring the two men will not pose any further threat, Joon-ho and I quickly retreat to our shelter.
We sit hunched over the map spread across our makeshift table, the dim light casting long shadows around our shelter. The weight of our recent encounter presses heavily on us, but it is time to focus on what lies ahead.
"We can't wait for them to start searching for their missing members," I start, my voice firm with resolve. "If they start sniffing around, they might stumble upon our shelter. We need to take the initiative."
Joon-ho nods, his eyes scanning the map. "So, a preemptive strike?"
"Exactly," I reply, pointing to the location the woman had described.
"They're based here, in the old warehouse district. If we move fast, we can catch them off guard."
Joon-ho leans in, studying the area. "How do you propose we approach this? Head-on confrontation with all of them could be risky."
I trace a route on the map with my finger. "We'll strike at night. Stealth is our advantage. We'll avoid a direct fight. The goal is to disorient and divide them. A quick in-and-out operation."
We spend the next hour finalising our plan, considering every possible angle and outcome. The warehouse district is isolated, which works in our favour, reducing the risk of drawing unwanted attention from the infected or other survivors.
As we wrap up our planning session, the gravity of what we are about to do settles over us. This is not just about defending our shelter; it is about survival in a world where threats loom at every turn. We are no longer just scavengers trying to make it through another day; we are now actively shaping the landscape of our survival.