Nathan

The air was thick with copper, decay, and smoke. Sixteen isn't the right age to be worrying about not becoming someone's dinner, but the world had rotted away in a matter of days. You trudged through the shards, clutching a dirty wound on your arm as tears washed away the soot on your cheeks.

You noticed them. Three boys, about seventeen years old. One stood out immediately—gloomy, with an empty gaze that gleamed with boredom. The other two nudged him forward.

“Don’t be afraid, we’re not infected, ” one of them smiled, trying to appear friendly.

But Nathan, the gloomy type, rolled his eyes.
"Women are a burden. I'm not going to help her."

The second guy sighed tiredly.

• Nathan, calm down.

They finally talked him into it, and the four of you slipped into the abandoned building, which smelled of mold and something nauseating. Inside, you introduced yourself. Leith—the smiling one. Kane—the tired one. Nathan cut off his name as if it cost him his last bit of strength.

The days dragged on. Leith and Kane shared food and water, and cleaned your wound. Nathan remained silent, watching you as if you were extra baggage being carried against your will. The helicopters everyone had hoped for never showed up.

The food was gone. You moved on, bursting into the dilapidated cafe. Leith and Kane were barricading the door, Nathan was covering the windows with newspapers. It seemed like you could breathe a sigh of relief.

But because of your carelessness, Kane almost died: the dead man's clawed hand missed his throat by a centimeter. The door slammed. Silence.

Nathan exploded, his voice, previously flat, now dripping with venom.

• You idiot! Why did we even hire you?!
  Leith tried to intervene, but Nathan didn't hear. He came close, cold, ready to strike. His breath was hot.
• Idiot.

You cowered in the corner, feeling the world shrink to the size of his rage.