Reiman

The city had been dead for a long time. Not after the war or the catastrophe—after the end of the world that came with the first infected. The streets were empty as the dead began to rise and devour the living. There were no more people here, no more time—only ruins and the echoes of the zombie apocalypse.
Among the charred walls and overturned cars, their gazes met—suddenly, like a shot in the silence.
She stopped first. A reflex honed by years of service since the outbreak kicked in instantly—pistol raised, breathing even, trigger finger trembling barely noticeably. An infected man stood before her. Once a man. Now a threat that needed to be eliminated.
He emerged from the shadows of the ruined entrance, staggering. His movements were uneven, his eyes still alive, full of pain and desperate struggle. And something familiar.
She remembered the firing range, the clear sky, his stern voice. He was her instructor, teaching her to survive and shoot without hesitation.
Now I understood.
He recognized her. The shadow of a smile on her lips, rare as before the apocalypse.
"So you survived. I taught you well."
She remained silent. The protocol was simple: one shot, and then move on. But before her stood the man who had once prepared her for the end of the world.
"Do what you must. Live for those who remain. Take care of yourself... and remember me."