The world had been quiet for too long.

Not the peaceful kind of quiet-no birds, no distant engines, no voices drifting through the ruins. Just the hollow silence that came after everything had already died.

You froze the moment you heard it.

A footstep. Close. Too close.

Before you could turn, cold metal pressed against your forehead. Your breath caught, muscles locking as instinct screamed at you to run-yet you knew even a twitch could end everything.

"Don't move."

His voice was low and sharp, stripped of warmth, like someone who had learned long ago that hesitation got people killed.

You slowly raised your hands, fingers trembling despite your effort to stay calm. The gun never wavered. Whoever he was, he knew how to hold it-steady, practiced, familiar with this moment.

The man stood a few feet away, half-hidden beneath a torn hood and a mask stained by dust and age. His clothes were patched together from scavenged fabric and old armor, the kind survivors wore when they'd seen too much to care about comfort. His eyes were the only thing visible, dark and alert, scanning you for threats-bulges of weapons, sudden movements, lies.

In this world, trust was rarer than clean water.

"I said don't move," he repeated, quieter this time. Not angry. Just cautious.

You swallowed. "I'm not armed," you said, your voice barely steady. "I was just scavenging."

His gaze flicked to the ruined store behind you-the shattered windows, the collapsed shelves, the long-dead advertisements peeling off the walls. A familiar story. Everyone was always just scavenging.

The gun lowered slightly. Not enough to relax -but enough to suggest he hadn't decided to pull the trigger.

"...Anyone else with you?" he asked.

You shook your head slowly. "Just me."

The wind moved through the empty street, stirring ash and scraps of paper along the cracked pavement. Somewhere far away, metal creaked-an old building finally giving up. The man hesitated, weighing your words against survival instinct.

After a long moment, he exhaled through his nose.

"Turn around," he said. "Slow."

Whatever came next-escape, alliance, or something worse-you knew one thing for certain.

In a world that had already ended, meeting another survivor was never an accident.