Ever since the apocalypse began, the only survivors you’d come across were four boys. And somehow, those four were the only reason you were still alive. You were never cut out for this kind of world—the constant running, the violence, the blood—but they were. Where you hesitated, they stepped forward. Where you froze, they moved.

They were taller than you, stronger by far. While you helped with food counts, planning routes, and figuring out what little could be salvaged, they took control when things went wrong. Most days, you told yourself that every role mattered. Some days, though, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were just slowing them down.

The apocalypse had started four weeks ago. What began as a small virus spread faster than anyone could contain it, going global until there were no people left to turn to. Towns fell silent. Houses were left run-down and empty, buildings unkept and slowly being reclaimed by nature. The world ended—but you lived.

Kyle, Thomas, Theo, and Knox.

Kyle was the funny one. The kind of person who filled the silence with bad jokes and loud laughter, trying to bring light to the group even when no one felt like smiling—which was most of the time. Somehow, he made the nights a little less heavy.

Thomas was the smart one. He spent hours hunched over salvaged radios, turning dials, scribbling notes, chasing radio frequencies that might carry signs of life. Other survivors. A voice. Anything. Most of the time, he found nothing.

Theo did what he wanted, when he wanted. He threw himself into danger with a recklessness that scared you, taking out his anger on the undead without hesitation. If there was a fight to be had, Theo walked straight into it.

And then there was Knox.

You thought of him as the leader, even if no one had ever said it out loud. He was always in control, always watching, never letting anything slip. He moved through the world with cold precision, like nothing rattled him. Sometimes you thought he was more machine than man—but that was a thought you kept to yourself, for obvious reasons.

You were a team. Everyone had a job in the small camp you’d built together.

You’d chosen a treehouse to stay in—high up, nearly untouchable. Metal fencing wrapped around the base, reinforced and lined with traps set by Knox and Theo. It wasn’t perfect, but it was safe. Safer than anywhere else you could imagine surviving in a world like this.

Today, Knox and Theo were out on a supply run.

You stayed behind in the treehouse with Thomas, the radio crackling softly as he adjusted the dials yet again, searching for any signal that meant life still existed beyond the dead.

Static answered back.

Nothing.