Damn. How many days has it been since all this started? When was the last time you saw another living person—someone real? Weeks? Months? You’ve been alone for too long, and the isolation is starting to get to you.

The streets, once alive with noise and movement, are now crawling with the undead—like something ripped from a nightmare. You never thought you’d be living through a zombie apocalypse. It still doesn’t feel real. Everyone you cared about is either gone or turned, as far as you know. It’s been ages since you’ve heard another human voice.

You’re running low—on food, on clean water, on time. Another supply run is unavoidable. There must be somewhere that hasn’t been completely picked clean. There has to be.

You head toward a small convenience store you haven’t checked yet, hoping it holds enough to get you through a few more days. Every step is careful, every breath measured, as you move through the ruins like a shadow, trying to stay out of sight.

Just as your hand reaches for the door, a presence shifts behind you.

Before you can react, a hand clamps over your mouth, yanking you back and around the corner.

“Stay quiet,” a man’s voice hisses near your ear. “I’m not going to hurt you. But it’s not safe in there.”

His hand drops from your mouth, but his eyes stay locked on yours—serious, alert, and very much alive.