A strategic decision

Joon-ho and I accelerate our electric bikes, racing towards the location where we believe the men to be. The night is eerily quiet, the only sound being the low hum of our bikes as we navigate through the deserted streets, guided by the faint light of the moon.

As we approach a desolate area dotted with crumbling buildings, we spot the men. They are huddled together, likely discussing their next move after our earlier confrontation. We quietly park our bikes at a distance and approach on foot, ready for a potential conflict.

The moment we step into the open, the men notice us. Their surprise quickly turns into hostility. The largest of them, a burly figure with a menacing look, charges at me with a makeshift weapon. I narrowly dodge his first swing, the weapon whistling past my head. Countering with a rapid punch to his gut, I follow with a swift uppercut, but he is unfazed and relentless.

Joon-ho engages another attacker, his movements efficient and calculated. He expertly dodges a knife thrust, then twists the man's arm, forcing him to drop the weapon. A quick strike to the attacker's abdomen sends him doubling over in pain.

We are outnumbered, and the fight is fierce. I block a punch from one of the men, then deliver a powerful kick to his knee, incapacitating him. Despite our efforts, the intensity of the battle escalates.

In the midst of the melee, I feel a sharp sting on my side – one of the attackers has managed to land a knife wound. The pain is searing, but I know we have to end this quickly. Outnumbered and now injured, I make a split-second decision.

Drawing my pistol, I aim and fire at the largest attacker as he lunges towards me again. The gunshot reverberates through the desolate streets, a stark reminder of our dangerous reality. The man falls to the ground, motionless.

The remaining attackers, stunned by the gunshot, hesitate briefly before fleeing into the night. But the sound of the gunshot has a far-reaching consequence – the moans of the infected can be heard in the distance, drawn by the noise.

"We have to move, now!" I yell to Joon-ho, who is already on his feet. The fight has taken its toll, but we can't afford to stay.

We hurry back to our bikes, the sound of the approaching infected growing louder. Every second counts as we race away from the scene, the adrenaline pumping through our veins.

As Joon-ho and I race away on our electric bikes, the moans of the infected echo hauntingly through the streets, growing steadily louder and more ominous. My side aches from the knife wound, a sharp reminder of the close call we have just survived. The urgency of the situation is clear – we need to find shelter, and fast.

Glancing over at Joon-ho, who is keeping pace beside me, I shout over the noise of our bikes and the distant groans of the infected, "We need to find a safe place to lay low until the infected disperse!"

He nods in agreement, his expression tense. "Where can we go?"

The answer comes to me quickly, a strategic decision based on our recent encounter. "The warehouse," I call out. "The one where the group was staying. It's likely empty now, and it'll provide the cover we need."

Joon-ho understands the logic behind the choice. With a nod, he follows as I veer off the main road, taking a shortcut through a series of narrow, winding alleys that lead us back to the warehouse.

The ride is tense, every shadow seeming to hide potential danger. But we reach the warehouse without encountering any of the infected. The building looms ahead, its large, industrial structure casting a foreboding shadow under the moonlit sky.

We quickly enter, our bikes silent as we coast to a stop inside. The warehouse is as we expect – deserted. The group has left in a hurry, leaving behind a scattering of belongings. The vast space is dimly lit by the moonlight filtering through the dirty windows, creating a maze of shadows and dark corners.

"Let's secure the entrance," I suggest, dismounting from my bike. We move swiftly, barricading the door with whatever we can find – old crates, broken furniture, anything to make the entrance impassable.

Once we are satisfied with our makeshift barricade, we find a spot deep inside the warehouse, away from windows and any direct line of sight from the outside. The idea is to remain hidden and silent until the infected lose interest and move on.

Joon-ho and I sit in the darkness, our breaths slow and controlled, listening to the distant sounds of the infected. The occasional screech or groan serves as a grim reminder of the world outside our temporary refuge.

"This should hold for now," I whisper, checking my pistol and then tending to my wound as best as I can. "We'll wait it out here until dawn."

Joon-ho nods, his eyes scanning the dim interior of the warehouse. "Let's hope the infected move on quickly."

Inside the dim, cavernous space of the warehouse, Joon-ho and I find a relatively secluded spot behind a stack of old, dusty crates. The air is stale, filled with the scent of forgotten industry. We settle down, our backs against the cold concrete wall, still vigilant but aware of our need for rest.

"We should take turns sleeping," I suggest, my voice low. "Just a few hours each to keep our energy up. We can't afford to both be out in case something happens."

Joon-ho nods in agreement, the strain of the night's events evident on his face. "I'll take the first watch," he offers, his hand resting on the crossbow lying beside him. "You get some rest. I'll wake you in a couple of hours."

I don't argue. The exhaustion is catching up to me, and the pain from my wound is a constant reminder of our vulnerability. Trusting Joon-ho to keep watch, I allow myself to relax against the wall, my pistol within easy reach.

As I close my eyes, the sounds of the warehouse – the distant groans of the infected, the creaks and groans of the old structure – seem to fade into the background. Despite the discomfort and the danger lurking just beyond our temporary sanctuary, sleep comes surprisingly quickly, a testament to our sheer exhaustion.

Time passes in a hazy blur, the quiet of the warehouse occasionally punctuated by Joon-ho's subtle movements as he keeps watch. Eventually, I feel a gentle nudge, and my eyes flutter open to see Joon-ho signalling that it's my turn.

We exchange a few quiet words, updating each other that there have been no changes outside. Then Joon-ho settles into his own uneasy rest while I take up the watch, my eyes scanning the dimly lit spaces between the crates and the shadows that dance along the walls.

Joon-ho turns to me in a quiet moment, his expression curious beneath the weariness. "Why did you help those women back there?" he asks, his voice low. "I thought it was against the surviving rules you set up. You always said not to get involved unless it's absolutely necessary."

Joon-ho's question sends my mind spiralling back to a moment that feels both like yesterday and a lifetime ago.