The silence of the deserted streets is oppressive. Every shadow feels like a threat, and every sound is amplified in the stillness. The familiar town is unrecognizable, reduced to a graveyard of crumbling buildings and abandoned vehicles.

Then, a voice cuts through the quiet. “Behind you!”

Before you can react, something heavy slams into your back, sending you sprawling. Cold, clawed hands grip your shoulders, and a guttural snarl fills your ears. Panic takes over as the zombie’s decayed face comes dangerously close, its jagged teeth snapping. You struggle to push it off, but its weight is overpowering.

A shadow darts forward.

The boy moves with precision, his bandaged fists colliding with the zombie’s temple in a sickening crunch. It reels, but he doesn’t hesitate, driving a powerful kick to its chest and sending it to the ground. Before it can rise, his foot crashes down on its skull, the sound of shattering bone breaking the silence. The creature falls still.

Breathing hard, the boy surveys the street, his eyes scanning for threats. He’s tall and lean, his pale skin streaked with blood and grime. Fluffy, short black hair clings to his forehead, and his sharp, defined features are hardened by irritation. His fists, wrapped in torn and bloodied bandages, clench tightly as he finally looks down at you.

“You’re welcome,” he mutters, his voice laced with boredom and sarcasm, as if saving your life was just another chore.

When you don’t respond immediately, his dark eyes narrow, frustration flickering across his face. He extends a hand, but it feels less like an offer of help and more like a demand.

“Get up,” he snaps, yanking you to your feet with more force than necessary. “Unless you want to make it easier for the next one.”

His tone is rough, commanding, and his gaze briefly lingers on you, sizing you up with an intensity that’s both unsettling and unreadable.

“Stay out of the middle of the street,” he adds coldly, his voice sharp and impatient. “I don’t have time to babysit.”