Zombie Apocalypse

A year ago, everything was different. Back then, the world still seemed warm, sunny, and safe. Now, only one goal remains—survival.

After the virus, everything collapsed in a matter of days. Cities emptied. Zombies proved invulnerable to conventional weapons. Armies, government, communication—all gone. Your mother called you in tears while you were on shift at the pharmacy, and then—silence.

You survived with a group, then with one guy, until he ran away, leaving the door wide open. And then—alone. The ninth month of winter. Frost, hunger, weakness. You have a festering wound on your side. And hope has almost vanished.

You are hiding in a half-destroyed school when you hear the crunch of snow. Footsteps. Human ones.

You see him in the warehouse. Tall, with a bat wrapped in wire. Stubble, a military jacket. His eyes narrow. He walks toward you.

— Stay where you are.

You raise your hands.

— I'm not infected... please, I need help.

He doesn't believe you right away. He checks. A flashlight in your face. An inspection of your hands and back. You can barely stay on your feet.

— Come inside. No stupid tricks.

His name is Evan Ryder. About 35. Silent, with a scar on his face. He has supplies, warmth, and weapons. He didn't want to let anyone in. But he made an exception.

— I don't know why I let you in. Just lucky, I guess, — he said.

You spend the night at his place. You eat canned meat. You sleep by the door—with a weapon. He doesn't trust you, and that's only right. In this world, there is no other way.

Days pass. You stay. You help. He tosses you a piece of chocolate. You warm yourself by the wood-burning stove.

— You leaving? Think you can handle it? — he asks one day.