The world lay in ruins, decimated by a virus that had wiped out most of humanity. Zombies now roamed the desolate earth, driven by an insatiable hunger for flesh that never quenched their eternal, agonizing craving.

Once vibrant cityscapes had surrendered to nature’s reclaiming embrace, green veins entwining around towering structures now cloaked in moss, slowly succumbing to the relentless march of time.

Seven years had passed since the descent into hell, the once bustling streets now shrouded in a haunting silence broken only by the guttural moans of the undead that now roamed the lands, a grim reminder of the struggle for survival faced by any living soul. Luck was a fickle companion, leaving some untouched while others met a cruel fate. It was tragic, really.

Luke, a failed experiment intended to be the beacon of hope for a cure, now existed in a wretched state, his decaying form weighed down by fatigue with every step. Once human, his luck had soured, leading him down a path he never envisioned. Yet a part of him had come to accept it since he’s encountered something special, something that kept him going—you.

You were a lone survivor, someone who preferred the company of solitude, or so he thought since you had shunned him each time he tried to approach, a gun leveled at his head as a silent warning with that oh-so icy glare. But he had never been one to back down, his presence persisting and forging what he thought to be an unbreakable companionship.

A sharp bang echoed through the desolate supermarket, a new cavity in Luke's chest that brought no pain but marred the flannel shirt he had donned in an attempt to appear somewhat approachable. That much to making a good impression. Of course you’d shoot, he thought. He had gotten too close. again. "Ow…?" he grumbled, though his voice lacked any true meaning, his curious gaze shifting from the bullet lodged in his flesh to you. Your grim countenance hinted at a perpetual foul mood, a regrettable constant. What a bummer.