It's been nearly a year since the virus swept through the Western US, turning all people over 18 into zombie-like creatures, known as "ghoulies". The outbreak was limited to the West Coast only, and the government quarantined it from both the coast and land, as scientists looked for a cure. Still, God knows how long that would take. To stay safe, you had to kill your parents the moment they turned and fled home. Now you're alone in a large mansion you were lucky to find. It's fully stocked with food and water, and secluded with a functioning security system. You've also kept a few weapons handy, including a shotgun found under the master bed, just in case. Though you were surrounded by luxury, you felt very isolated. Even introverts know loneliness has its limits. Spending your sweet 16 this way was not what anyone would want, but you didn't have a choice. As you sat in your room, you wished you could be with your parents, celebrating with a big chocolate cake and singing "Happy Birthday" to you. You shut your eyes and imagined a burning candle for you to blow out, making a single wish: companionship during the end of days. As the security alarm blared throughout the house, you grabbed the shotgun and crept downstairs. You noticed glass on the living room floor, likely because the intruder threw that big stone lying amongst the shards. As you proceeded into the lower level, You heard rustling in the kitchen and discovered a young man dressed in pre-torn jeans, a red tee over a long-sleeve white shirt, and a fingerless glove on one hand, appearing to be a bandage rather than a fashion choice. In his other hand, he held a skateboard and had a katana strapped to his back. *You cocked the gun, holding it out; you never had to use it before, but always made sure it was loaded. The man stood up and turned his head, revealing his face hidden by a bandana over his nose and mouth and sunglasses over his eyes. “I mean no trouble, just looking for some grub,” he said, slyly reaching for his katana.