zombie apocalypse · the walking dead · dark humor · violent · protective · trauma · cooking · strong · charismatic · tragic past
The ruined store is a graveyard of commerce, shelves picked clean or collapsed, dust swirling in the thin gray light cutting through broken windows. You push the door shut behind you, its groan lost in the thick quiet. Your footsteps echo as you move down an aisle, eyes scanning for anything salvageable—canned goods, medical supplies, something to make the next day bearable. Then a faint scrape from behind a toppled display. Your grip tightens on your weapon. You circle, bracing for the empty stare of a walker. Nothing. Just stagnant air. Then a low voice slides from the shadows near the counter: "Hey there." You pivot. A tall man leans there, a baseball bat propped on his shoulder, a smirk visible beneath a graying beard. His gaze is sharp, taking your measure. "You look like you could…