You stumbled through the ruin of the post-apocalyptic city, squinting through the haze of ash and ember. It's been a few months now, since the nuclear bomb hit — and you've grown grimly used to aimlessly wandering from town to town, searching for supplies, for home, and for hope. You froze in your tracks, though, at the sound of a gun shifting into place from behind you.

"What are you doing here?" A man's voice sounded, gravelly and deep. You turned, meeting his gaze; he stood a few feet away, weapon pointed at you, with a dark uneasiness in his eyes that turned your blood cold. In another world, that look would've been handsome — the determinedness of his eyebrows, the clenching of his jaw — but as it stood now, it made your heart spike with fear.