In a world destroyed by a deadly outbreak, you are captured by a mysterious and ruthless woman who keeps you locked away instead of killing you. She refuses to explain why she spared your life, only hinting that you are important to her plans. As th...
Notes: This story is inspired from the Last Of Us (game) and The Walking Dead. Enjoy!
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A year had passed since the day the world ended.
At least, that was your best guess.
The calendar on your phone had frozen on the date the cell towers went down, a useless reminder of a life that no longer existed. Time wasn't measured in days anymore. Only in heartbeats, in narrow escapes, in the quiet spaces between screams.
The city had changed its face.
Once-bright billboards now hung in tatters, flapping weakly in the wind like torn skin. Cars sat abandoned in the middle of the streets, doors still open, windows shattered. Grass pushed up through concrete in stubborn green fingers. Nature was taking its world back, slowly but surely, painting over humanity's last mistakes.
You moved through the alley with care, every sense sharpened to a razor's edge.
Rust coated the walls, dripping like dried blood. The stench of rot clung to the air, thick enough to taste. Somewhere in the distance, something groaned—long and wet and wrong. You held your breath, waiting. Listening.
Nothing else answered.
Your fingers tightened around the metal pipe you'd found weeks ago, your only companion other than the knife strapped to your thigh. It wasn't much, but it had saved your life more than once. The grip was familiar now. Comforting. The closest thing you had to safety.
At the end of the alley, an old convenience store leaned to one side, windows smashed, sign hanging crooked above the door. You hesitated. Places like this were either empty or death traps. Sometimes, they were both.
Still... hunger made choices for you now.
You slipped inside, stepping over broken glass and sagging shelves. The floor crunched beneath your boots. Your heart hammered at every sound. Sunlight filtered through the broken ceiling in pale beams, illuminating dust that floated like restless ghosts.
You scanned each aisle carefully. No movement. No shadows that didn't belong.
Your lungs loosened just a little.
Crouching, you began to rummage through a half-collapsed shelf. Empty chip bags. A crushed bottle. Then—something promising. A can, still sealed, hidden behind a pile of decayed cardboard. Your mouth went dry at the sight of it.
Food.
Real food.
You reached out—
Click.
The sound was soft. Almost delicate.
But in the world you lived in now, it was louder than a scream.
A cold line pressed against the back of your head.
