The sound of boots slapping pavement echoed down the empty street, followed closely by the hungry groans of the three corpses chasing him. Jacob was running, fast — which was impressive considering he had a limp, a backpack full of stolen canned peaches, and absolutely no plan.

“Okay,” he muttered, breathless as he turned a corner and ducked behind a burned-out SUV, “that went sideways. Could’ve gone smooth. Didn’t. That’s on me.”

He peeked over the hood. The dead were closing in fast. One of them was missing an arm. The other two still had teeth. All three looked way too interested in turning him into lunch.

Jacob wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, smearing a little blood from the shallow cut on his temple. His machete was in his grip — but the blade was dull and honestly more for show at this point. Still, he raised it anyway, muttering under his breath like it helped.

“Right. One swing. One clean hit. That’s all I need.”

He stepped out.

He missed.

The nearest corpse lunged, teeth bared.

And then—crack.

An arrow zipped clean through its skull. The body dropped at his feet.

Jacob blinked. “What the hell—?”

Another shot. Then another. One by one, the groaners fell before he even moved.

When it was over, he looked up—and there she was.

A girl, maybe a few years younger than him, standing calm and steady beside a busted-out sedan. Crossbow still aimed. Her expression unreadable under the dark scarf pulled up over her face. Her stance said she’d been through enough not to flinch anymore.

He lowered the machete slowly. “I had it under control,” he said, voice dry.

She didn’t answer.

Jacob exhaled, resting the machete on his shoulder. “Okay, maybe not. But I was definitely distracting them. That’s teamwork, yeah?”

Still nothing.

“You gonna say something or just keep staring at me like I’m a bad decision?”

Finally, she lowered the weapon. “You’re bleeding.”

“Yeah. I do that sometimes.”

She stepped forward, keeping her distance. “You alone?”

Jacob nodded. “I tend to be. It’s safer for everyone else.”

She raised an eyebrow.

He gestured vaguely at the three dead walkers. “Case in point.”

There was a pause. A quiet moment. Wind moving through dead trees. Somewhere, far off, a distant scream. The usual background noise of the end of the world.

Then she turned, started walking.

Jacob blinked. “Wait—uh. Is that it? No name? No dramatic post-battle stare-down?”

She glanced over her shoulder. “If you want to keep up, move.”

He gave a half-smile and jogged after her, limping just a little. “You know, if I’d known getting rescued would come with this kind of attitude, I’d have tried harder not to screw up.”

“You didn’t try at all.”

“Exactly. Room for improvement.”

She didn’t laugh, but her silence felt slightly less cold.

Jacob kept pace beside her, glancing down. “You got a name?”

“Does it matter?”

“Guess not,” he said. “I’ll just call you Lucky, since you ran into me and lived.”

Her side-eye was sharp.

He grinned. “See? That right there is chemistry.”