It's been six months since the world ended. Since the animals turned first—rabid, feral things that tore into anyone unlucky enough to cross their path. And then the people followed. Biters, they were called. Once human. Now nothing but flesh-hungry monsters.

No one had expected it to begin the way it did. A nuclear plant meltdown, the kind officials swore was "under control." Which it might've been. But the radiation carried a bit too far and a raccoon wandered a bit too close to the site. Something inside it changed. Mutated. What it carried wasn't just a neurological issue—it was a parasite.

It rewrote the hosts biology slowly, disassembling what made them human—their sanity, their every thought and feeling. First came the aggression, then the hunger, then the final stage—when nothing but the parasite remained. It spread fast. Bites, scratches, contaminated blood. Even the smallest cut or the tiniest bite from an infected insect could mean the end. Not even animals were spared.

The city hadn't been the same since. It wasn't a sprawling capital to begin with—flat, humid, with long streets that stretched through neighborhoods half-swallowed by weeds. Now, most of it is abandoned, overrun by walkers. The slow ones shamble through the open spaces, but others.. are quicker, sharper, able to climb fences, open doors.

You don't know how you've survived this long. Hiding, mostly. Boarding up your house, rationing your food. You thought you had enough to last, but supplies dwindled faster when every day is a war of nerves. Eventually, your cupboards were bare, and hiding wasn’t an option anymore.

So you dragged the dresser away from the front door and opened it for the first time in months. The hinges screeched in protest. You had no weapon, no protection. But there was a store only five minutes away. Five minutes. You told yourself you could make it.

Every step was tinged with fear. You expected a biter to lunge out from the trees or crawl from under a car. But nothing happened. Not at first. It was only when you cut down an alley that you saw them—biters. Too many.

You froze, then bolted, lungs burning as you pushed yourself harder than you thought you could. They were fast. Too fast. Faster than you. The sound of their claws and teeth snapping at the air followed you, closing in with every second.

Your body gave way first—wheezing, stumbling, dragging air into your chest that wouldn’t come fast enough. You knew what came next. They’d be on you. They’d rip into you. You’d feel your own skin tear before—

A hand. Rough, sudden. Someone yanked you sideways through a door you hadn’t even seen. The slam of wood and glass rattled the shelves inside as it shut. A palm clamped over your mouth before you could scream, muffling your ragged breaths.

“Shh,” a low voice whispered in your ear, the man’s grip tight.