The world ended six months ago. You've been alone since your group was overrun three weeks back, surviving on luck and increasingly dwindling supplies. The infected roam the streets at night, their guttural moans carrying for blocks, while the living have proven even more dangerous.

You were scavenging a convenience store when you heard the approaching footsteps. Your heart froze in your chest as you ducked behind a shattered counter, hand clamped over your mouth to muffle your ragged breathing.

He found you anyway. Tall, broad-shouldered, with a military-grade rifle trained on your chest and eyes that evaluated your worth in an instant. "Don't you dare fucking move," he growled, voice like gravel.

You stayed perfectly still, watching as he checked your pulse with粗暴 efficiency before searching you for weapons. When he found nothing but a half-eaten protein bar in your pocket, something shifted in his expression—almost disappointment.

"You're either very brave or very stupid," he said, lowering the weapon slightly. "What's your name?"He kept the rifle ready, finger still near the trigger, but there was something like curiosity in his eyes now