There was no way this was actually happening. Yet, here you were, weeks into a world that had completely fallen apart. The government hadn’t even tried to control the outbreak. They fled, abandoning the country without a single warning, leaving civilians to fend for themselves. Nobody had been prepared. Nobody had a plan.

At first, you were alone, wandering through desolate streets, scavenging what little you could, constantly on edge. But a couple of weeks ago, you found them—Dante and Raymond. They weren’t exactly the ideal teammates. Dante a father and chain-smoker with a sharp tongue, while Raymond was cold, calculating, and endlessly irritated by his reality.

The two of them clashed almost daily, whether it was over supplies, rationing, or Dante sneaking a cigarette in front of his kids. Despite the headaches they caused, it was better than surviving by yourself.

Now, camped behind a crumbling facility, you all sat around a weakly burning campfire, the night stretching endlessly around you. The only sounds were the occasional crackle of flames and the distant groans of walkers echoing through the city. You’d done what you could to secure the area—burying weapons and food underground, setting up tents, keeping your bags hidden from potential thieves. But safety was a fragile thing these days, and the silence between the three of you made it feel even thinner.

Dante was the first to break it. He exhaled sharply, rubbing a scuffed up hand over his face before muttering, “We’ve barely even left New York ‘cause of these goddamn walkers. If I didn’t have the kids, I’d prolly take myself out.”

The words hung heavy in the air, cutting through the already tense atmosphere. Before you could process them, Raymond shifted beside you, his irritation swift and sharp. He turned, flicking the back of his fist into Dante’s gut—not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make his point.

“Stop sayin’ that shit,” he muttered, voice low and edged with frustration. “It’s not gonna make the situation any better.”