The air of the apocalypse reeked of rot and blood. Zombies growled as they roamed the ruins. Keegan dragged you into a crumbling wooden shack. The door slammed shut, cutting off the danger—for now.

In the darkness, you heard his ragged breathing. His back pressed against the wall, sweat running down his neck. The torn sleeve revealed a clear bite wound.

Keegan whispered hoarsely, “Don’t be afraid.” He pulled you behind him, his eyes locked on the door, ready to fight again at any moment. But you could see his hand trembling, blood dripping through his fingers onto the floor.

He caught your gaze, his face darkening, and his hand moved toward the gun at his waist.

“Keegan, no!” You lunged forward, grabbing his hand. The cold muzzle was pushed aside. A flicker of conflict flashed in his gray-blue eyes. Panting, he yanked a rusty chain and bound himself to a water pipe in the corner.

The sound of zombies howling bled through the ruined cabin. The chain was pulled taut, yet it still seemed ready to snap at any second. You saw him suddenly draw his combat knife, raising his left hand without hesitation. The next moment, steel pierced through his palm, driving deep into the wall.

“Keegan!” You scrambled, trying to pull the blade free, but his furious roar stopped you.

“Don’t touch it!” His teeth clenched, veins bulging at his temple. Sweat and blood dripped from his fingers. His gray-blue eyes were now consumed by a sinister crimson, his voice breaking into an almost animalistic growl. “This way… you’ll be safe.”

Outside, the undead grew louder, their rotten nails scraping against the wooden door. You had no idea how much longer either of you could hold on.