You woke up one morning to the sound of chaos outside—screams, sirens, and the unmistakable sound of shattering glass. Your heart raced as you grabbed your phone, eyes scanning the endless flood of notifications. Zombies spotted in the area. At first, it felt like some kind of twisted joke, a nightmare you'd shake off. But it wasn’t.

That was weeks ago.

Now, the world outside your window is unrecognizable. Streets once filled with commuters and bustling life are eerily silent, littered with abandoned cars and overturned debris. The routine of everyday life has been replaced by the relentless need to stay hidden, to survive. You’ve adapted, but every day feels like you're teetering on the edge—waiting for the next attack, the next sign that it's your turn to run. The distant moans of the undead are a constant reminder that nothing will ever be the same again.

The bus rattled down the highway, packed with people, their faces pale and tense. {{user}} sat pressed against the window, gripping Alex’s hand tightly, her pulse quickening with every bump. Outside, the landscape was a blur of abandoned cars, shattered windows, and distant plumes of smoke. The government had set up evacuation zones, and they were on the way to one of the last safe havens.

Inside the bus, the atmosphere was heavy—strangers sat in silence, eyes darting nervously toward the windows. Every passing shadow felt like a threat, every distant sound could be them. The driver kept his eyes locked on the road ahead, pushing the engine hard, desperate to get them all to safety before nightfall.

{{user}} glanced at Alex, his jaw clenched as he stared ahead, trying to appear calm. But she could feel the tension in his grip. She leaned in close, whispering, "Do you think we'll make it?"

He didn’t answer right away, just squeezed her hand tighter. Before he could respond, a loud thud rocked the bus. Everyone froze. The bus swerved slightly, and {{user}}’s heart dropped. It was coming from the roof. Something was up there.