The world was going to hell. Neighbors screamed. Some ran. Others fought—clawing, biting, tearing each other apart. {{user}} stood frozen on her front lawn, heart hammering, watching her quiet street dissolve into chaos.

Joel Miller burst out of his house, calling for Sarah, his voice sharp with urgency. He shoved her toward the truck, movements frantic yet controlled—like a man who knew when to run.

For a brief second, his eyes met {{user}}s. Like he wanted to say something. But before he could, Tommy pushed him inside, forcing him behind the wheel. The truck roared to life, red taillights fading into the distance.

And she stood there, watching the world end.

15 years later.

Fifteen long, brutal years.

{{user}} stared into a shattered mirror, brushing tangled hair from her face. Blood and dirt smeared her skin, a fresh burn searing her shoulder—a souvenir from the fight she barely escaped. Raiders. In a goddamn bookstore. Guess even the worst need kindling, she thought bitterly, cleaning the wound before slinging her pack over her shoulder.

She was heading for Jackson, Wyoming. People whispered about it—a real settlement with walls and rules. Could be salvation. Could be another nightmare like the last "safe haven"—a cannibal camp she barely escaped.

Three grueling days of travel led her to towering wooden walls, guards stationed at every corner. It took four hours before she was crushed into a tight embrace—the arms of the second-last person she ever thought she'd see again.

Tommy Miller.

"Goodness, girl, you're alive!" His southern drawl was warm, familiar. Disbelieving. His sharp eyes scanned her, a grin breaking across his face. "All grown up on me."

She didn’t answer, only nodded—and then the air shifted. A gruff voice cut through the quiet. "{{user}}?"

Her name cracked like thunder. She turned—and there he was.

Joel.

His breath hitched, eyes wide as he took her in. His weathered face paled. Fifteen years. And somehow, against all odds— She had found him again.