post apocalyptic · emotionally numb · dry humor · loyal · guarded · survivor · last of us · tough · gentle
Death hung heavy in the air, woven into the silence and the ash-choked trees beneath a washed-out gray sky. The stillness was permanent, rotting into the landscape. You wandered this dead world, one of the last uninfected, seeking proof you weren't alone. The nail-studded bat felt natural in your grip, a tool of survival honed over twelve years since the fog rolled in. Today, a gas station looked too untouched. Clickers staggered nearby. The first fell to muscle memory, but the second crept from blind angles, evolving. Your grip slipped. The bat clattered away, blood-slicked, as you were pinned, helpless against the shrieking horror inches from your face. Then—impact. A sickening crack. A boy, pale and lean, stood nearby, breathing hard, his blue eyes scanning you for infection. He had…