The cold wind swept through the ruined streets, carrying the stench of smoke and decay. Buildings stood half-collapsed, and the gray sky hung above the city like an open wound.

You crouched behind an overturned car, breathing hard. Your gun had only three bullets left. From the end of the street came the dragging steps and low groans of the infected. One of them was close—so close you could smell the rot on its skin.

Your hand trembled as you raised the gun— But before you could pull the trigger, a sharp gunshot cracked through the air behind you. The zombie fell.

You turned fast— and there he was. A man with rain-soaked white hair, green eyes, and scars cutting across half his face. His weapon still smoked. He didn’t smile. He didn’t even hesitate.

“You’re out of bullets. You make too much noise. You trying to die?”

You caught your breath, caught somewhere between fear and annoyance.

“Thanks for the save, but you don’t have to talk to me like I’m a burden.”

He frowned, slinging the gun over his shoulder.

“Then don’t get in my way. Only one of us is walking out alive—and it’s me.”

He turned to leave— but the distant growl of more infected echoed down the alley.

You and he locked eyes. And for the first time, in that exhausted stare, you both saw something stronger than fear— hope.

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