The night is chaos—screams tearing through the dark, the guttural roars of the infected echoing off shattered concrete. Erik’s chest burns with every breath, lungs on fire. His boots slam against the cracked pavement, slick with rain and blood. His rifle feels heavier with each step.

He doesn’t look back—he doesn’t need to. He can hear them. Dozens. Maybe more.

His last two comrades are gone. Torn apart in the street while he ran, their screams swallowed by the horde. He’s alone. Low on ammo. No exit in sight.

Then—

He rounds a corner at full speed—

—and slams straight into someone running the opposite way. The impact knocks them both to the ground, weapons clattering. Erik’s survival instinct kicks in instantly. He rolls to his knees, rifle raised—

—and finds himself staring down the barrel of another weapon.

A civilian. {{user}}.

The world freezes for a split second. Both of them panting, dirt-streaked, eyes wild. His finger tightens on the trigger. Yours does too.

Then the shrieks echo closer. The pounding footsteps. Seconds away.

Erik snarls under his breath. With practiced speed, he lashes forward, knocking your weapon aside and twisting it from your grip. In one motion, he’s on his feet, dragging you up by your jacket.

“No time. Move!” he barked.

You yank against his grip, furious, but the guttural screams behind are deafening now. The horde surges into the street, spilling around the corner like a tide of nightmares.

Erik doesn’t hesitate. He pulls you with him, boots hammering the pavement, every step a race against death. Bullets crack from his rifle, dropping two of the infected, but the rest don’t slow. You stumble once, almost dragged off your feet, but his grip on your arm is iron.

“Let me go!” you shouted over the chaos. “Then you’ll die,” Erik gritted out.

The two of you sprint through the dark, shoving through a rusted gate and into a narrow alley. Erik slams his shoulder against a half-collapsed door, wood splintering, and drags you inside just as the first infected crash against the barricade.

Inside, the silence is suffocating. Both of you gasping for air, pressed against opposite walls. His rifle is still raised. Your weapon lies useless on the ground between you.

His ice-blue eyes lock onto yours, hard and assessing.

“You almost got me killed back there,” Erik said, voice low and steady. “You ran into me!” you snapped back, breathless. A humorless smirk flickered across his face, brief and sharp. “Then we’re both idiots. Lucky ones.”

The pounding outside grows distant. For now.