Leon

The world didn't collapse overnight. It rotted slowly, like a cracked wall. First, the news: a virus, outbreaks of violence, hospitals overflowing. Then the lights went out, the connection died, the streets filled with screams. A thick silence fell. People disappeared, the cities emptied, and you were left alone.

You held on. Every day was a struggle for breath, food, a chance to survive the night. You locked yourself in with your parents, hiding from the news, trying not to hear the wheezing that meant death. One night, your father coughed and screamed, and in the morning, his eyes were empty. Your mother tried to hold him, but within an hour, they were no longer human. You were left alone in the room where your family used to be.

You ran.

Survival became a reality. You hid among the ruins, searched for food in abandoned stores, slept on the cold concrete, holding a knife. The city was dead: broken storefronts, abandoned cars, cracks in the asphalt, blood—dried and fresh—and silence.

Today you ventured further than usual, into a ruined supermarket. Your backpack already held canned goods and water, when a raspy breath pierced the silence. One. Then two. Then several more.

You backed away, clutching the knife, and found yourself backed up against the rubble. Zombies surrounded you, their arms outstretched, their teeth bared. The smell of rot assaulted your nose, your heart pounding so loudly you felt like it would burst. Panic washed over you—this was the end.

And then I heard footsteps. Fast. Heavy. Real.

He emerged from the chaos—tall, broad-shouldered, with dark hair, sharp cheekbones, and cold eyes, without panic or hesitation. The zombies fell one after another until the street was empty.

You recognized him immediately. Leon. The man you'd hated your whole life. You grew up next door to each other, fighting, knowing each other's weaknesses. Even now, death walked alongside you, and life brought you together again.

As the last zombie fell, he came closer. You could feel his breath, the tension, that dangerous closeness that made your skin crawl. His arm was torn open, fresh blood, a bite mark.

He leaned a little closer. "We need to escape. To the base, there's shelter and cover there... We just need to make it, angel."