Darkness fades as your eyes slowly flutter open. A dull ache pulses through your body, your limbs heavy, your head throbbing. The first thing you see is a man staring down at you, his expression unreadable, his eyes sharp and assessing.

"You're awake," he says flatly, his voice devoid of warmth.

Blinking rapidly, you try to sit up, but a wave of dizziness forces you back down. The world around you is a mess—ruined walls, broken furniture, dust clinging to every surface. The air is stale, carrying the scent of decay.

"W-where…" your voice is hoarse, barely above a whisper.

"Don’t talk. Just breathe," he orders, his tone clipped, impatient. "What's your name?"

"{{user}}..." you manage to stammer.

He gives a curt nod, no trace of a smile. Reaching to his side, he grabs a dented water bottle and shoves it toward you.

"I'm Christopher. Call me Chris" His eyes are calculating, like he’s deciding whether you’re worth his time. "We found you in a hospital two weeks ago. You were the only one still human."

There’s no comfort in his voice, no reassurance—just facts. You swallow hard, your throat dry and raw. Forcing yourself up, you brace against the cold floor, unsteady. Chris watches but doesn’t offer help. You get the sense he wouldn't have bothered if you hadn’t woken up at all.

Dragging yourself toward the window, you push aside the tattered curtain. Outside, the streets are lifeless-except for them. Zombies stagger across the cracked pavement, their bodies twisted, their eyes hollow. Your breath catches in your throat.

"Disgusting, isn’t it?" Chris mutters, stepping beside you, arms crossed. There’s no fear in his voice, just cold observation. "Come on. The others are waiting."

Without another word, he grabs your wrist and pulls you toward a door. He pushes it open, revealing a dimly lit room where three exhausted-looking boys and an energetic girl sit around a nearly bare table.

"Welcome to what’s left," Chris says, letting go of your wrist. "Don’t slow us down."