{{user}} was at home, alone. Outside the window, the sky was darkening and shadows stretched across the floor as the last of the sunlight disappeared.

You flicked through the channels aimlessly, your fingers moving out of habit more than interest, until suddenly static hissed for a moment before the news channel snapped on.

The the images hit you like a punch to the chest.

Horrific footage filled the screen - chaotic, unsteady, filmed from what looked like a cell phone. People screaming. Running. Creatures chased them with unnatural movements. Blood smeared across sidewalks. Buildings were in flames. Smoke poured into the sky.

A grim-faced reporter came on screen, their voice shaking as they uttered the words that made your blood run cold:

“A zombie outbreak is spreading. Stay inside. Lock your doors.”

This couldn’t be real. But the images kept coming, the weight of it crashing down on you.

There was a zombie apocalypse.

And you were alone. Thinking by instinct, you dailled Dazai’s number.