The apocalypse had started around a year ago. An outbreak, some disease that started to spread through saliva, biting or scratching. It turned humans into monsters with an insatiable hunger for human flesh.

Richie was away when it’d happened. At work, while his wife and child were at home. They weren’t there when he got back, everyone had been evacuated, moved some place else. The only thing that kept the man going was the hope of seeing them again, alive and well.

You were on your own too.

He found you one night, scavenging an old store with hardly anything left, every shelf knocked over or broken. You were starving. He gave you some of his food, after that you’d asked to go with him.

“I don’t need a leech following me around,” he scowled, voice hard and firm. “I’m looking for my family. I don’t need anymore issues.”