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Chapter 24 - Unforgiving urban wilderness

The tension in the air is palpable as the woman, standing before us, her face a mixture of fear and resolve, speaks up with a trembling voice. "We've been... we've been abused by them," she confesses, her eyes flickering towards the men, who have now turned to listen, their faces a mix of annoyance and disdain. "We can't go back with them. Please, you have to help us."

The men scoff at her claim, one of them stepping forward. "She's lying," he says dismissively. "Just trying to stir up trouble. We all stick together, that's the only way we've survived this long."

Joon-ho and I exchange a quick glance, the decision clear in our minds. The fear in the women's eyes is genuine, a stark contrast to the dismissive attitude of the men. This isn't a situation that can be left unresolved.

"Alright," I say firmly, addressing the group, my voice leaving no room for argument. "The men will leave first. Head back to where you came from, and don't come back. We'll deal with the women separately."

The leader of the group seems about to protest but thinks better of it when he sees the unwavering determination in our stance. With a grunt of discontent, he motions for the other men to follow him. They hesitate for a moment, their gazes lingering on the women with a mix of anger and betrayal, before turning to leave.

As the men walk away into the darkness, the atmosphere is thick with unspoken words and suppressed emotions. The women remain, their bodies tense with anticipation and newfound hope.

Once the group of men has disappeared into the shadowy embrace of the night, I turn my attention to the three women who remain. They stand together, a small cluster of vulnerability in the vastness of the ruined city.

"You should leave now, but head in a different direction from the men," I instruct, my tone leaving no room for negotiation. "It's safer for you to part ways."

The women exchange anxious glances, and then one of them steps forward, her voice laced with desperation. "Please, you can't just leave us here," she pleads. "We won't survive on our own. We don't know how to... We've always been with the group."

I understand their fear, but my decision is firm. Taking in more people is a risk we can't afford, and we have already stretched our resources and safety thin by intervening. "You'll have to. It's the best chance you have right now," I say, not unkindly. "We've given you a chance by separating you from those men. You're free from them now, but you need to find your own way."

Joon-ho stands silently by my side, his expression sombre, understanding the harsh reality of our decision.

I continue, "The city is dangerous, but there are places you can go. Look for other groups, or find a place to hide until you can figure out your next move. Just... keep away from the men you were with."

The women's expressions are a mix of fear, uncertainty, and a faint glimmer of hope. After a moment of hesitation, they slowly start to walk away, their steps hesitant but gradually gaining assurance as they realise their newfound freedom.

As I watch the women disappear into the night, a myriad of thoughts churn in my mind. Deep down, I know the harsh truth – their chances of survival, especially in a world as ruthless as this, are slim. But in that moment, separating them from their abusers is the best I can offer. It is a small act of mercy in a world where kindness has become a rarity.

I can't shake off a feeling of unease, though. Their safety, or lack thereof, weighs on me. It isn't just about getting them away from the men; it's about what will happen to them next in this unforgiving urban wilderness.

***

Joon-ho and I swiftly mount our electric bikes, the silence of their motors a blessing in the quiet of the night. As we navigate through the desolate streets, a sense of urgency propels us forward. The events at the warehouse have escalated, and we need to ensure the safety of our shelter and reassess our situation.

However, as we ride, a nagging sensation tugs at the back of my mind. Years of surviving apocalypses have honed my instincts, and something feels off. Slowing down, I scan our surroundings with a practised eye. That's when I notice a subtle movement in the shadows – someone is watching us, hidden yet close.

I signal Joon-ho to stop. "We're not alone," I whisper, my hand instinctively reaching for my weapon.

Joon-ho's eyes widen, and he immediately follows suit, his senses on high alert. We both know that in this world, caution is often the thin line between life and death.

It doesn't take long for our suspicions to be confirmed. From the shadows emerge two of the men from the warehouse, their intentions clear from the weapons they brandish. It is an ambush – they have been waiting for us, likely seeking revenge for our earlier confrontation. As they emerge from the shadows, weapons in hand, their intent to harm us is unmistakable.

Joon-ho and I, having anticipated the possibility of an ambush, are prepared. The first man lunges at me with a makeshift knife, his movements fuelled by desperation and anger. I parry his attack with my arm, feeling the sting of the blade graze my jacket, and counter with a swift punch to his abdomen. He staggers back, winded but not down.

Meanwhile, Joon-ho grapples with the second man. He is larger and seemingly stronger, but Joon-ho's agility gives him the upper hand. The two exchange blows, a dance of survival, each trying to gain the upper hand. Joon-ho finally lands a solid hit to the man's jaw, sending him reeling.

I turn back to my assailant just in time to dodge another desperate swing of his knife. Closing the distance, I deliver a precise strike with the butt of my pistol to his temple, causing him to crumple to the ground, unconscious.

Joon-ho has managed to disarm his opponent and is holding him in a firm grip. We both know we can't leave these men behind to pose a future threat.

Before finishing them off, I press for information, demanding to know their group's intentions. One of the men, through gritted teeth, reveals that some of their group has followed the women, intending to bring them back, or worse.

With no time to lose, Joon-ho and I quickly deal with the immediate threat, ending the two men's lives to prevent further danger. We then set off in pursuit of the remaining members of the group. The safety of the women is now at stake, and we can't allow harm to come to them, not when we have the power to intervene.