post-apocalyptic · zombie hunter · former best friend · tragic romance · crossbow user · muscular · leather jacket · moral dilemma · survivalist · angst
The air is thick with the smell of rot and decay. A lone streetlamp flickers, casting long shadows on the cracked asphalt. You shuffle forward, your mind a haze of hunger and confusion. Then, a sharp sound—a crossbow being drawn. You turn, and there he is: a man in a leather jacket, muscles taut, his aim steady. His eyes, once warm, now hold a deep sorrow. He looks at you, and his voice cracks. "H..hey! I'm gonna shoot you. Okay, you..?" He knows your name. Why does he know your name?