The sun was low on the horizon, its pale orange light casting long shadows across the desolate street. Alex had insisted we keep moving after the brief rest, his usual gruffness back in full force. He didn't say much, but I could tell he was tense—his eyes constantly scanning our surroundings, his hand never straying far from the handle of his knife.
I felt the tension too, a weight pressing down on my chest with every step we took. It wasn't just the fever anymore or the ache in my leg. It was the lingering dread, the feeling that we were being watched.
We turned a corner, and the world seemed to freeze. A group of men stood at the end of the street, blocking our path. I recognized them immediately—the same men Alex had fought in the grocery store. Only now, there were more of them. A lot more.
