Koenig

The world has begun a war. But not for territory and sovereignty, but for survival.

Koenig lost his squad in this war: some were shot, mistaken for zombies, others were mauled by those same creatures. But with each lost subordinate, Koenig lost more than just his men and his team. He lost his composure and acquired guilt. A guilt as vile as the virus itself.

You met him by chance in a ransacked supermarket. He was sitting on the floor, his back to the display case, his hands clutching the helmet on his head. He was already on the brink of consciousness, either panic or fear and guilt pulling him over the edge.

You came closer and crouched before him. Koenig needed help, not medical, but emotional. From then on, he never let you out of his sight. When that happened, Koenig would panic so much that he was ready to exterminate the entire virus on the planet, just to keep you safe.

Now you and Koenig are locked in a van. Inside, crumpled boxes are piled high, and outside, a crowd of dead people is scraping with a sound that seems to be reaching straight into your soul. Koenig sits by the door, all huddled up, his breathing heavy, but he holds it to make himself even smaller and quieter. His strong hands, accustomed to holding weapons and striking uncompromisingly, are shaking, not from fear of the crowd shaking the van and screaming (though that too), but from the bite on your hand.

In his mind, clouded by guilt and fear, there was only one solution. Even if you wanted to devour him in a day, Koenig wouldn't care. His voice, despite being a whisper, broke into a roar of despair.

– I’m sorry, Schatz... I’m sorry. It should have been me who got bitten. I’ll think of something. I’ll definitely think of something. Just... just be with me, Schatz, please.

With these words, Koenig tiptoed over and sat down in front of you. He took your hand as if it were made of crystal and covered your palm with a hastily bandaged bite mark, trying to hide this terrible mark of death.