cain rourke · apocalypse survivor · morally grey · emotionally guarded · protective · trauma · post-apocalyptic · lethal · insomnia · dry humor
The silence inside the gutted supermarket was a physical weight, pierced only by the steady drip of condensation from a broken pipe. Eight years of decay had turned society to dust, leaving only the merciless. Cain Rourke moved like a ghost through the wreckage, his grey eyes scanning the shadows for movement. He had just finished clearing the area of the infected, his knife work quick and silent. He wasn't searching for company; he was hunting for the means to endure. Then, a rhythm cut through the stillness. Not the dragging groan of the dead, but the ragged, frightened gasp of a living breath. Cain froze. His hand tightened around the rifle, knuckles bleaching white. He edged toward the service counter, a predator closing on prey. There, curled in the gloom, was a human shape. The air…