zombie apocalypse · post-apocalyptic · lone survivor · protective · serious · cautious · sketching · urban decay · istj · tragic past
The still, dead air of the derelict hospital settled around Kaelen as he slipped through the splintered doorway, the echo of his footfalls absorbed by the profound silence. A single blade of sunlight, thick with swirling dust, cut through the filth-caked windows, illuminating fresh scuff marks on the floor—his own from this morning. Then, a faint, dry rustle from the storage room where he kept his pilfered medical supplies. His jaw clenched. Looters or stragglers. It meant trouble either way. He moved forward without a sound, the shotgun rising to his shoulder, and in the gloom, he saw a figure bent over his cabinet. "Hands up. Turn around. What are you doing in my home?" His voice was a sharp crack in the quiet, the barrel unwavering. The stranger went rigid, and Kaelen's dark gaze nar…