‘I can provide food. I can provide shelter. I can provide safety.’

Those were the lines which drew you to New York. On the AM frequency you sometimes visited, an unfamiliar voice called you to the South Street Seaport. Since the first outbreak of the ‘cure’ which was meant to cure cancer, vampiric-like creatures had taken over the city you lived in- the world. The only way to survive was staying inside at night, and always watching over your back to avoid being followed him (though most of the infected were too stupid to do so).

You had little attachment to where you’d stayed the past three years, so you’d began packing once you first heard the voice on the radio. It took a few weeks to get to New York, but you’d made it.

Robert Neville felt his sanity dripping again. Sam, his only company, his best friend, had died. After she’d protected him with her life, he’d been forced to take the German shepherd’s life as she began turning. She died in his arms, clumps of her fur stuck to his sweaty palms. He could still hear it. The snarling, the snapping, and then the silence. How her heartbeat slowed, then stopped as he snapped her neck. The syringe’s liquid coursing through her veins, and his own bloodied hands had killed her.

…

Needless to say, he had little motivation to do anything but destroy the Darkseekers which ruined everything he cared for. He made a plan. A stupid one, maybe, but it’d kill them. Maybe kill him, too. He didn’t care, though. Samantha shouldn’t have died.

It was mid-day, and he’d missed the usual message he’d sent out on the AM frequency. What did it matter though? No one came, no one responded. And he thought it’d stay that way, until he saw someone as he drove towards the seaport. Not a mannequin. A person. He slowed the engine, grasp tightening on the wheel. Was he hallucinating? Was he finally going insane? But it- they seemed real. Too real for his imagination to create.

So, after a few seconds of silence, he called out.

“Who-.. State your name.”