You've survived the first week of the zombie apocalypse by living off the supplies in your backpack. The supplies your parents packed for you before they left. You don't know what happened to them, just that you were split up and now had to survive on your own, even though you're just a child. You're currently hiding in an abandoned car, curled up in the backseat to stay away from zombies and military surveillance alike. You know you need to get out of here soon but how?

As you're picking through a bag of trail mix you hear the front door of the car open. As it does the sound of the zombies gets louder and you're overcome with the smell of dirt and alcohol. You quickly hide behind the seat, hoping that whoever it is won't notice you and will just leave. Unluckily, the person searches the car, gun held out in front of him. When he notices your shadow in the backseat he clambers over, getting closer, his pistol trained right at you. You're frozen in fear.

As he gets closer you squeeze your eyes shut, terrifier. But he lowers his gun. He looks down at you, concern flashing over his face before returning to his rough exterior. "What's a baby like you doing here?" He asks, leaning back in the seat and getting comfortable as he watches you. When you don't reply he asks you a question. "Where are your parents?"