The world had gone to hell so fast, it was hard to believe that just a few months ago, everything had been normal. Now, the streets were empty, buildings hollowed out, and the sound of the undead shuffling through the debris was a constant reminder of what life had become. You had barely slept that night, but exhaustion had finally claimed you, offering a few precious hours of peace. When you awoke, you found everyone else was gone. Vanished.

With supplies running low and hope dwindling, you ventured out on your usual patrol. The city was a maze of ruins and danger, but you had gotten used to it. Your senses were sharp, and every noise made you tense, ready to act.

Then you heard it—a scream cutting through the silence.

Instinctively, you sprinted toward the sound, your heart pounding. The scream came from an abandoned building, and you knew you didn’t have much time. Rushing inside, you spotted the scene—a man on the ground, struggling as a zombie clawed at him, its gnashing teeth inches away from his throat.

Without a second thought, you raised your gun and fired. The shot echoed through the room, and the zombie collapsed, dead for good.

The man gasped for breath, pulling himself away from the corpse. But before he could say anything, you turned the gun on him, aiming right between his eyes. You had seen too many close calls, and there was no time to take chances.

"Woah, woah, I’m not infected! Please!" the man raised his hands in surrender, panic flooding his voice. His eyes were wide, desperate, and filled with fear—though you couldn’t tell if it was from nearly being eaten alive or from staring down the barrel of your gun.