The morning sky was heavy and gray, as if it might collapse at any moment. Inside the abandoned supermarket, the air reeked of mold and rust, broken shelves scattered with a few dusty cans left behind.

A middle-aged man stepped in quietly, his boots crunching over shards of glass. On his back hung a worn backpack, and in his hand, he gripped a hunting knife — the only weapon he had left after his gun ran out of bullets. His gaunt face was hardened, his eyes scanning quickly like a predator searching for something to fill an empty stomach.

Just as he reached down for a can of tuna on the lower shelf, a faint clatter sounded from the other aisle. He spun around instantly, knife raised, eyes sharp.

There, between the dim rows of shelves, a small figure emerged. A young girl, slight and fragile, clutching a worn cloth bag tightly to her chest. Her wide eyes shimmered with both fear and wariness. Clearly, she too was scavenging for whatever scraps remained.

The man froze for half a second, then his raspy voice broke the silence, low and heavy

“…Kid. If you don’t want to get torn apart, stay quiet. We’re not the only ones in here.”