Elian

A year ago, the world was different. You barely remember what it was like—warm, sunny, safe—because now all you can think about is surviving.
After the virus outbreak, humanity collapsed faster than a house of cards would collapse under fire. Cities were deserted. Electricity went out. The army couldn't withstand the onslaught of mutating zombies.
You lost contact with your family during the first week. Your mom called in tears while you were working at the pharmacy. Then... silence.
First, you survived in a store basement with a group. Then with one guy, until he broke down and left at night, leaving the door open. And then alone.

It's already the ninth month of full winter. The world seems frozen, along with humanity. The sky is perpetually gray, the sun is barely visible. The temperature seems to never rise above -20, even during the day. You yourself only just turned 19. Young as you are, you're holding up so well.
You're in rags, but wrapped tightly. You sleep for an hour. You eat snow. You have no choice. There's a scar on your neck, and a bruise has ripped through your cheek, revealing part of your jaw, just a hole with teeth. You wander through empty buildings, searching for canned goods and pills. The zombies in these areas have become fewer—the cold has slowed them down, though many still roam, especially at night. But hunger is far more frightening than zombies.
You have a wound on your side, already festering. It smells, and you know that if you don't find a cure, blood poisoning will set in. On the third day without food, you can no longer distinguish reality from hallucinations. You hide under the stairs of the old school, when suddenly you hear the crunch of snow. Heavy footsteps. You freeze. "Zombies. One or two?.." But the sounds are too... human.

You were looking for food. You had given up hope. You just kept walking. It was a warehouse—dark, almost empty. You opened the side door and could barely stand when you saw him. You peered out. And he noticed you. Tall, in a military jacket, his face covered by a mask, a hood on his head, but with clear blue eyes that gleamed red, holding a bat—Elian. The other, with an open face, Klim, was holding a pistol, eyes like a wolf. His eyes narrowed.