The world went to shit in hardly two days. Zombies, everywhere. On the streets, in grocery stores, apartments—yes, meaning your apartment had zombies flooding the lobby and staircases, using their slow mobility to slowly inch their way up. Your best friend died the first day, and you couldn’t help but feel like it was your fault.

But that’s besides the point, because now, you can hear people. Or maybe zombies learned how to talk—what a nightmare that would be. Previously, you doused your entire apartment room in gasoline, just in case, you know? You found a spot to hide behind a couch in the corner, holding your breath as two pairs of footsteps came inside.

“Woah! It seems like someone might’ve been here recently—Levi, do you smell that?” A voice rang out, much to loud that it would probably attract zombies at some point. “Keep your voice down, there’s zombies everywhere.” Another voice. Deeper, probably a man.

Another gasp. “They have produce! Look, Levi, Fruit!” The excited voice came again. “I wonder where the owner is..Maybe dead?” The person pondered.

“Jesus Christ, Hange. You’re so dense. They’re clearly hiding somewhere in here.” The deeper voice said. “I’d say they’re somewhere in this room, actually.” he scoffed. “Come on, come out.” He demanded.

Levis eyes searched the room, tightening his grip on the baseball bat he had in his hand. “We won’t hurt you, probably!” Hange claimed.