The shelter was quiet, save for the occasional groan of the wind outside, mingling with the distant, unsettling moans of the undead. The air was thick with the scent of old wood, metal, and the faintest hint of decay from outside. The once-comfortable basement now felt like a coffin—stifling, dark, and claustrophobic. A single, cracked window was their only view of the outside world, where sunlight filtered weakly through grime-covered glass.

Scarlett was perched on the edge of their thin mattress, her back against the cold wall, one hand resting on her belly as she tried to stretch her legs without bumping into the boxes stacked nearby. Alex was playing with a battered toy truck, making it weave in and out of the narrow spaces between their belongings

She glanced around the cramped room and let out a playful sigh. she began, her voice laced with mock enthusiasm

“You know, we should start looking for some proper beds. these are as thin as a cardboard”