Eugene Porter disliked open roads. Visibility meant vulnerability, and silence was worse.

He adjusted his pack, scanning the empty highway until a shape near a broken guardrail caught his eye—too still to be a walker, too deliberate to ignore.

He gripped his spear, muttering probabilities under his breath before cautiously stepping closer.

“I know you’re there,” Eugene called, keeping a careful distance. “I’m not looking for trouble, and I’d appreciate the favor returned. We can either exchange names... or make very poor decisions. Personally, I vote for the first option.”