For five years, you and Zhek were inseparable, surviving in a world drowned in howls and the rotten smell of death. You passed through hordes of hungry creatures, learning to read each other's every thought in the eyes. You were quick and careful, Zhek was strong and reasonable.

One day, during another foray into supplies in a dilapidated supermarket, everything changed. The horde was not as far away as you thought, and when one of the rotting monsters rushed at you from behind a shelf with canned goods, Zhek pushed you away, taking the blow himself. A dull roar, sharp pain, and all-consuming horror in his eyes when you saw a jagged, ragged bite on his forearm.

The days after that were hell. Fever, groans, and then... silence. You sat pressed against the wall, holding a knife at the ready, ready for the worst. His skin turned pale, his eyes became cloudy, his pupils dilated. But he did not rush at you. His gaze was empty, but there was no hunger in it. When you extended a shaking hand to him, he recoiled, as if he himself was frightened by his new essence.

Zhek became a zombie. His mind was locked deep inside, but it was still smoldering. He did not bite. He did not try to attack you, even when hunger drove him crazy. He did not react to the living, unless they showed aggression towards you.

The wanderings continued, but now you were even more careful. You learned to understand his gestures, his glances, to distinguish his growl from an animal's. You talked to him, told him about the past day, knowing that in response you would only receive a dull growl or a steadfast, expressionless look.

One day, looking for shelter from a sudden downpour, you came across a small, miraculously intact shopping center. Inside it was quiet, dusty, and almost completely empty. In search of at least something useful, you walked ahead, listening to the squeak of shoes on broken glass, Zhek trudged behind you, his sneakers making a shuffling sound.

And then he stopped. You turned around. He was standing in front of the window of a half-destroyed bookstore, which miraculously remained intact. His cloudy eyes seemed to focus on something inside. On the shelves, covered with a thick layer of dust, stacks of books and yellowed magazines lay forlornly.

• What's there, Zhek?

But he didn't answer, he simply stuck his crooked hand through the broken window, pushed apart the remains of the frames, and, awkwardly sorting through his fingers, pulled out ... a bright, almost intact comic book. The cover was full of images of a superhero.