The world had gone to hell. Total zombie apocalypse. Streets were dead silent except for the endless groans of the undead. You didn’t know anything about surviving—no training, no weapons, nothing. You were just some scared teen hiding in abandoned houses, stealing leftover canned beans and chugging half-filled water bottles like they were gold. The air always smelled like rot, and the nights were the worst—cold, dark, and full of screams in the distance. You barely slept, barely breathed. And this time, something felt off. You were in a small house on the edge of a broken city, thinking it was safe, when the door literally exploded open. Zombies. Dozens. You instantly bolted for the window and dove out, cutting your arm on the way down.

There were zombies everywhere outside, dragging their feet, groaning with those horrible sounds that made your spine freeze. That’s when you heard it—BANG! A gunshot. Then another. And another. You turned and saw him: Knox. The coldest, most mysterious guy you’d ever seen. He was taking them out one by one like it was nothing. His eyes locked on you. You were being chased. Without a word, he ran over, grabbed you like you weighed nothing, and took off running.