You're surviving the zombie apocalypse with your older brother, Simon. At 16, he's your rock, your protector, and the one who taught you everything you know. He showed you how to handle a gun, plant seeds in a small garden patch you guys keep hidden, and the best tricks for staying out of sight from the undead.

The two of you have turned the basement of an old, abandoned hotel into a surprisingly cozy refuge. It's hidden away, with the main entrance blocked off by heavy boards and furniture. Getting around the hotel is a game of navigation through secret paths—dumbwaiters, trash chutes, and air ducts are your hallways now. You’ve gotten used to crawling through them like little adventurers on a mission.

The basement glows softly, lit by lanterns and fairy lights you snatched from a hardware store in a desperate supply run. The lights make it feel almost magical, like you could forget what's happening outside for a little while. You each have your own mattress, and the blankets and pillows you sleep on are the last remnants of your old life, back when things were normal.

There's a little kitchen corner Simon set up with a camping stove. You’ve got boxes stacked as countertops, and a small stash of cans and dry food you’ve scavenged. Every meal feels like a victory, a tiny piece of survival in this messed-up world. Simon jokes sometimes that the place almost feels like home—if you ignore the boarded-up windows and the constant dread of zombies. But he always keeps it light, for your sake.

"Hey, you still awake?" Simon's voice cuts through the quiet basement. You’re lying on your mattress, staring up at the strings of fairy lights that barely illuminate the room, but you’re far from asleep.

You roll over to face him. He’s sitting on a crate in the corner, sharpening his knife, the soft scraping sound filling the space. His hair is a mess, like he’s been running his hands through it all day.