We watch the man disappear into the dilapidated house with his grim cargo; a decision settles in my mind. I turn to Joon-ho, my expression resolute. "We need to follow him, see where he lives."
Joon-ho looks at me, surprise evident in his eyes. "Why? What are you thinking?"
"People like him become a danger," I explain, my voice low but firm. "In my past encounters, I've seen it time and again. Those who feed the infected, especially with human bodies, they become unpredictable, a threat to other survivors. It's dangerous to have him around, especially in our village."
Joon-ho's expression shifts from surprise to understanding. The harsh realities of our world often require harsh decisions, and he knows it as well as I do.
We wait for a few moments to ensure the man won't see us, then cautiously move from our hiding spot, keeping a safe distance as we follow his trail to the house. The building is old and partially collapsed, its once vibrant facade now a memory of a world long gone.
As we approach, I signal to Joon-ho to stay alert. We circle the house, looking for any signs of danger or indication of the man's intentions. The windows are boarded up, making it difficult to see inside.
"We need to be careful," I whisper to Joon-ho. "If he's keeping an infected person in there, they could be as dangerous as him."
Joon-ho nods, his eyes scanning the surroundings for any movement.
"What's the plan?"
"We observe for now. Understand his routine. If he's a threat, which I'm certain he is, we'll need to neutralise him. But we need to do it without drawing attention or causing a commotion that could alert others or the infected."
The truth of my words hangs heavy between us. In this world, survival often means making decisions that, in another life, would have been unthinkable. But we aren't just fighting for our own lives; we're fighting for the safety of everyone in our village.
We find a concealed spot with a clear view of the house's entrance and settle in to watch. The reality is stark and unforgiving – in a world overrun by chaos and infection, removing threats preemptively is often the only way to ensure the safety of the many. It is a burden we carry, a necessary evil in a world that has lost its way.
***
Back at our shelter, the atmosphere is charged with a sense of urgency. Joon-ho and I move swiftly to set up the drone, a piece of technology that has proved indispensable in our fight for survival. Our goal is clear and critical: confirm our suspicions about the man and neutralise the potential threat.
As the drone hums to life, its camera feed comes up on our high-quality monitors. We have prepared well, equipping our shelter with advanced devices to aid in our reconnaissance and defence. The live feed from the drone is crisp and clear, giving us a detailed view of our target area.
We carefully guide the drone towards the man's house, maintaining a strategic altitude to avoid detection. The drone, equipped with a sophisticated camera, provides us with a valuable perspective on the situation.
Our eyes are glued to the screen as we observe the man's activities. He emerges from the house, casting wary glances around before locking the door behind him. His actions are calculated, suggesting he is aware of the dangers that lurk in every corner of our desolate world.
For hours, we monitor his movements. He leaves the house occasionally, perhaps to fetch water or scavenge for supplies amongst the ruins of abandoned buildings. His routine is consistent, always returning to the house and always ensuring the door is securely locked after each outing.
The decisive moment comes when we see him dragging another lifeless body toward the house.
This time, we are able to position the drone closer, capturing clearer, more detailed footage. The emotionless manner in which he handles the body leaves no room for doubt – he is indeed feeding something, or someone, inside that house.
Joon-ho, watching intently beside me, turns with a sombre expression. "We can't let this go on."
I nod in agreement, the resolution firm in my voice. "Tonight, we take action. We raid the house. If he's left unchecked, he could pose a significant threat, possibly even drawing more infected into our vicinity."
As we dedicate the remainder of the day to meticulous preparation, the gravity of our impending action weighs heavily in the air. Our weapons, a silent pistol for me and a crossbow for Joon-ho, are methodically checked and readied. Each piece of gear, from our night-vision goggles to the compact medical kit, is laid out and inspected with precision.
The plan we outline is simple yet precise, emphasising stealth and efficiency. We know that any unnecessary noise or abrupt movement could escalate the situation dangerously.
As dusk falls and cloaks the world in shadows, we make our final preparations. Before stepping out into the night, I notice Joon-ho's hands slightly trembling as he holds his crossbow. It isn't the cold or fear; it's something deeper, a realisation of the step we are about to take.
I place a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Joon-ho, this isn't just about survival. It's about making tough choices for the greater good. What we're doing tonight... it's necessary."
Joon-ho meets my gaze, his eyes reflecting a turmoil of emotions. "I know, but... this will be the first time for me. Taking a life, I mean."
His confession hangs in the air, a stark reminder of the line we are about to cross. I nod, understanding the weight of his words. "I remember my first time. It's not something you ever forget. But remember, we're doing this to protect ourselves and others. It's him or potentially many others."
Joon-ho takes a deep breath, steeling himself. "I understand. It's just... hard to accept that this is what the world has come to."
"We do what we must," I reply solemnly. "The world we knew is gone. Our choices now are about more than just personal survival; they're about preserving what little order and safety we have left."
With a final nod of determination, Joon-ho shoulders his pack, and we step out into the night. The path to the man's house is quiet, with only the soft crunch of our footsteps on the frosty groundbreaking the silence. Each step takes us further into a world where the lines between right and wrong are blurred, where the decisions we make are about preserving a semblance of humanity in a world that had all but lost it.