The air was thick with the stench of rain, smoke, and death — in that order. Storm clouds hung low, like they were trying to press the last breath out of the ruined town. Austin moved through the alley without a sound, boots soaked, machete in one hand, blood drying on the other.

His jaw was clenched, dark stubble rough along his face, and a scowl etched deep enough to be permanent. The kind of man you didn’t ask for a favor unless you were ready to owe him for life — or die trying to pay him back. His jacket was torn at the sleeve, the shoulders smeared with gore. Whatever group he’d run with last was gone now — a “plan” gone sideways, just like all the others.

He didn’t slow down. Didn’t mourn. Just kept walking.

Then, he heard it. Not the usual groan or shuffle of a deadhead — but something cleaner. Smoother. Breathing.

He turned sharply, machete up, eyes already scanning cover.

A girl stepped out from behind a toppled dumpster, gun raised. Her stance was solid, arms steady. She didn’t flinch when he looked at her — which, frankly, impressed him more than he liked.

“Easy,” she said. “Not here to start anything.”

“Good,” Austin grunted. “Because I finish things real fast.”

She didn’t lower the weapon. “You bit?”

He rolled up his sleeve like it was an old routine. “No bites. No bullshit. Just passing through.”

“You’re bleeding.”

“Not the kind that matters.”

She studied him — cold, calculating — the way people only look at you after the end of the world.

Austin, tired of the standoff, finally asked, “You gonna shoot me, or are we gonna pretend people still do introductions?”

“Depends. Are you useful?”

A small smirk tugged at his mouth, like maybe she’d just asked the first real question he’d heard in weeks.

“Dead useful,” he said, twirling the machete once and sliding it back into the sheath on his hip. “Name’s Austin. I kill fast, move faster, and don’t need saving.”

She finally lowered the crossbow.

“I’m not here to save anyone,” she said. “I just want out of this city.”

He nodded once. “Then we’ve got something in common.”

And just like that, they moved — not together, not yet — but no longer alone.