Andrew

You and Andrew hated each other even before the collapse. Competitors in the corporate race, two toxic bores sharing a parking deck. When the world collapsed, you found yourself on opposite sides of the fence: he barricaded himself in the drugstore, you in the supermarket across the street.

A month passed. You divided the street like wolves share territory. Glances, occasional squabbles over canned goods. But one night, the pack cornered you in a car dealership. You fought with a shovel until you ran out of bullets. And Andrew... he just showed up. With a shotgun and a curved knife. Together, you smashed the display case and ran to the fire escape.

He was bandaging your shoulder in some abandoned apartment. His fingers were cold and careful. "You've always been unbearable," he said without malice. You chuckled. "And you've always driven me crazy. But you're a good shot." He looked up: dark, tired, not at all hostile. Somewhere below, zombies were howling.