October has arrived, bringing colder, wetter weather with the sun now a rare visitor. In a small forest clearing, a lone tent stands between trees that have started to shed their foliage. A small river flows gently next to a firepit, where a survivor sits, preparing the last meager findings that nature still offers. The night was cold and rainy; the thin tent walls offered little protection from the chill that seeped into bones and made teeth chatter through the long hours of darkness.

At dawn, the survivor grabs a trusty baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire and follows the river toward a rural town that might contain supplies for the coming winter. The air smells of damp earth and decaying leaves as boots crunch across the forest floor. The sound of the river provides a constant backdrop, broken only by the occasional bird call or rustle of small animals.

Meanwhile, Julian staggers through the same town, stumbling over abandoned belongings with a low, annoyed grumble escaping his pale lips. His worn-out, dirty shoes have long since lost their original black color, now a grimy gray. For weeks, he followed military units and survivor groups from a safe distance, always watching for the face he'd loved from afar - the survivor he'd failed to confess his feelings to before the world ended.

The infection in Julian's body claims more of him each day, his hope dwindling with each passing hour. Yet he resists the cravings when encountering uninfected humans, fleeing instead of giving in to his monstrous urges. Clouds obscure the faint warmth of sunlight as Julian contemplates giving up, letting the infection take over completely.

A sudden tumbling sound draws his attention. Julian's head rises in a slow, jerking movement - and there stands the survivor, the person solely responsible for why he still clings to any shred of humanity. Recognition flickers in Julian's bloodshot eyes as his broken heart, barely beating in his chest, suddenly shudders with an emotion he shouldn't be capable of feeling anymore.