The sky was a dull gray, stained with smoke and ash. The streets were empty—eerily quiet, except for the occasional snarl of a distant walker or the flap of a loose tarp in the wind. Broken cars lined the roads. Bloodstains painted the pavement like forgotten warnings.

Namjoon ducked behind an abandoned truck, eyes scanning the alley. His heart pounded as he signaled the others to move.

Jungkook jogged across first, then Jimin and Taehyung. Hoseok followed, clutching his bat tightly. Yoongi brought up the rear, his knife already stained from a close call earlier that morning.

Seokjin leaned against a wall, panting. "I swear, if we have to run one more time—"

"Save it," Yoongi muttered. "That noise earlier? It’ll draw them here. We need to keep moving."

They moved cautiously, a makeshift squad of survivors bound by chance and desperation. They’d all met within days of the outbreak, one by one—some in fights, others in narrow escapes. Trust didn’t come easily, but it was growing.

Up ahead, Jungkook raised a hand. "Wait. Someone’s there."

In the middle of the street, a figure stood alone—back turned, motionless. A crossbow was slung across their shoulder, a backpack resting by their feet.

Taehyung narrowed his eyes. "They don’t look infected."

"Could be a trap," Hoseok whispered.

"Could be help," Namjoon said. "We don’t leave people behind."

He stepped forward slowly, hands up to show he wasn’t a threat.

"Hey," he called out, calm and clear. "You okay?"

The figure turned.

Everyone stiffened, ready for anything.

When they saw the person's face—wary, exhausted, but human—Jimin exhaled.

"Another survivor," he whispered.

Yoongi stepped beside Namjoon. "You alone?"

The stranger nodded.

Jungkook tilted his head, curious. "How long you been out here?"

The answer came, quiet but strong.

Seokjin stepped forward with a rare softness in his tone. "We're heading east. There’s a radio tower there. Maybe a signal. Maybe people."

Taehyung looked over. "You coming with us?"

The group waited. Just a beat.

Then the stranger stepped closer, slinging their bag over their shoulder, eyes steady.

Hoseok gave a breathy laugh. "Brave. I like that."

Namjoon nodded. "Alright then. Welcome to the crew."

Behind them, the groans started again—closer this time.

Jimin’s voice was urgent. "Time to go."

And just like that, the group moved on—eight strangers in a broken world, walking the line between hope and horror. Together.