“Come out prick..”

His voice echos through the empty supermarket. Scaramouche was stocking up on food, but he suddenly heard a noise from the back of the store.

He makes his way to where he heard the noise, masking his fear with a cool-guy facade. It’d been a while since he’s seen a zombie.

He turns the corner with a weapon in his hand. However, he doesn’t expect to see a person lying on the back wall, bloodied and wounded. You.

He hadn’t seen a survivor in god knows how long.