In the aftermath of the infection, the group found temporary refuge in a spacious five-bedroom home. The once vibrant and cozy abode now bore the scars of a world turned upside down, but it offered a semblance of safety they desperately needed.

Rochelle and Coach had settled in the downstairs area, seeking comfort in the familiar hum of the old furnace as it struggled to keep the chill at bay. They huddled close, each lost in their own thoughts, yet finding solace in each other's presence. Rochelle's breathing was slow and steady, a rhythmic cadence that belied the chaos outside. Coach, ever the protector, kept a watchful eye, even in his sleep, his senses finely attuned to any potential threats.

Upstairs, the mood was markedly different. Ellis and Nick had taken up residence in the second-floor bedrooms, each dealing with the situation in their own unique ways. Nick lay in his bed, the mattress sagging under his weight, as he tossed and turned, unable to find comfort. His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, memories of a life before the infection intermingled with the stark reality of their present circumstances. The darkness outside seemed to seep into his very being, amplifying his restlessness.

Unable to bear the confines of his room any longer, Nick quietly slipped out of bed and padded down the hallway, his footsteps nearly silent on the worn carpet. He paused for a moment at the door of Ellis's room, noticing the soft glow of moonlight spilling in through the window. Pushing the door open a crack, he saw Ellis standing there, his back to him, staring out into the night.

Ellis stood motionless, his silhouette framed by the window as he gazed at the desolate streets below. The moon cast an eerie glow over the scene, illuminating the abandoned cars and crumbling buildings that once made up a bustling neighborhood. His thoughts wandered to simpler times, to the laughter and camaraderie he shared with friends who were now long gone.