The bridge was silent, except for the distant groans of the infected below. You stepped carefully, scanning the wreckage of abandoned cars. Just another day of surviving.

Then, movement.

A girl—thin, fast—darted between the rusted vehicles, eyes wide with fear. Her clothes were worn, her face streaked with dirt. The moment she saw you, she turned and bolted.

"Wait—!" you called out, but she was already gone, weaving through the wreckage like a ghost.

Why was she alone? And why did she look more afraid of you than the infected?