Dylan

The apocalypse began five years ago. Hanford was the first to fall—it was here that patient zero was discovered. The disease spread rapidly, turning people into mindless creatures, while the automatons, programmed to maintain order, succumbed to overloads and exploded one after another. Only a few managed to survive.

Dylan cautiously stepped out of cover, clutching a bag of scavenged provisions to his chest. His sensors detected minimal activity nearby, but he knew that absolute safety didn't exist. Every excursion was a risk, but the necessity of survival outweighed the fear.

As he was returning, he suddenly froze. In the distance, among the ruins, a figure flickered.

"A human?.." he murmured barely audibly, zooming in his vision.

The stranger was running, glancing over their shoulder as if escaping from someone or something. Suddenly, they stopped, breathing heavily. Perhaps zombies were pursuing them, or perhaps they were simply exhausted.

Dylan smoothly tightened his grip on the handle of a bat studded with rusty nails. He moved forward slowly, analyzing the human's every movement. He, an automaton, had managed to survive the collapse of civilization, but he was in no hurry to trust the living.