The morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of damp earth and decay. Evelyn stood by the gas station’s broken doorway, gripping her knife as she scanned the empty road. The world felt too quiet.  
Sarah tightened the straps of her backpack. “We need to move fast.”  
Anna, now wrapped in an old jacket they’d found in the storage room, stood a few steps behind them. Her grip on the small knife was still uncertain, but her eyes were sharp. She was ready. Or at least, as ready as she could be.  
Evelyn nodded. “We stick to the tree line. No open roads.”  
They moved quickly, keeping close to the overgrown bushes that lined the cracked asphalt. Every step was careful, measured. The infected could be anywhere. So could the Reapers.  
Anna stayed between Evelyn and Sarah, her breath shallow. She wasn’t used to moving like this constantly looking over her shoulder, avoiding every loud step.  
Sarah glanced at Evelyn. “Where are we heading?”  
Evelyn kept her eyes forward. “West. Away from the city.”  
Anna hesitated. “What’s west?”  
Evelyn wasn’t sure.  
There were rumors, whispers among survivors. A safe zone somewhere beyond the ruined highways. Maybe it was just another lie, another false hope.  
But they needed something to move toward.  
Sarah adjusted her grip on her machete. “Let’s hope we find food along the way.”  
Anna’s stomach growled in response. She gave an embarrassed smile, but no one laughed. Hunger wasn’t funny.  
They kept walking.  
Hours passed. The sun climbed higher, turning the road into a shimmering mirage of heat. Their feet ached, their throats dry. They needed water.  
Then Evelyn stopped.  
Ahead, half-hidden in the trees, was a house.  
The windows were broken. The door hung slightly open.  
Sarah eyed it warily. “Could be infected inside.”  
Evelyn nodded. “Could also be supplies.”  
Anna swallowed. “What do we do?”  
Evelyn glanced at Sarah.  
They had a choice.  
Take the risk.  
Or keep walking.
Evelyn’s grip on her knife tightened. The house stood motionless ahead, its broken windows staring like hollow eyes. It could be empty. Or it could be a trap.  
Sarah adjusted her machete. “We check it fast. If anything feels off, we leave.”  
Anna nodded, though her fingers trembled slightly around her small knife. She was still getting used to this, stepping into danger instead of running from it.  
Evelyn took the lead, moving cautiously up the cracked front steps. The door creaked as she pushed it open, revealing a dim, dust-covered interior.  
The air smelled stale, with a faint, lingering scent of rot.  
She held up a hand, signaling for silence. Then she stepped inside.  
The living room was a mess. Furniture was overturned, broken glass scattered across the floor. A family photo lay facedown on the ground, the frame cracked.  
No movement. No sound.  
Sarah moved toward the kitchen while Anna hesitated near the doorway.  
Evelyn turned toward the hallway. A staircase led upward, its wooden steps darkened with stains. Some looked like water damage. Others… looked darker.  
Blood.  
She exhaled, then glanced at Sarah. “Find anything?”  
Sarah opened a cabinet, rummaging through dust-covered shelves. Then she pulled out a half-empty water bottle. “Not much.”  
Anna spotted something under the counter. “There’s a drawer here.”  
She reached for it, pulling it open. Inside were a few old cans, rusted but sealed.  
“Still good?” she asked.  
Sarah inspected one. “If we’re lucky.”  
Evelyn’s gaze drifted back to the stairs. Something about them made her uneasy. The silence. The stains. The way the air felt heavier.  
Something had happened here.  
Sarah noticed her staring. “We don’t have to check.”  
Evelyn hesitated. If there was danger, it was better to know. If there were supplies, they needed them.  
Anna shifted uncomfortably. “Maybe we should just go.”  
Evelyn’s gut told her to agree.  
Then...  
A soft sound.  
Barely a whisper.  
From upstairs.  
Anna stiffened. Sarah lifted her machete.  
Evelyn locked eyes with them.  
Stay and check.  
Or leave and never know.
Evelyn’s fingers tightened around her knife. The sound upstairs had been faint, almost too soft to notice. But it was there.  
Sarah’s grip on her machete didn’t loosen. “We should go.”  
Anna took a step back toward the door, her breath unsteady.  
Evelyn hesitated. If there was something or someone up there, they needed to know. If it was an infected, they couldn’t risk it wandering down while they slept.  
She took a step toward the stairs. “We check. Fast.”  
Sarah muttered under her breath but followed. Anna stayed near the doorway, keeping watch.  
The wooden steps creaked under their weight. Dust swirled in the dim light filtering through a broken window. The hallway at the top was narrow, lined with closed doors.  
Evelyn’s heartbeat thudded in her ears.  
The sound had come from here.  
Sarah moved to the first door and pushed it open.  
Empty. A child’s bedroom, torn apart. A stuffed animal lay in the corner, covered in dust.  
Evelyn moved to the next door. The hinges groaned as she nudged it open.  
A master bedroom. Clothes still in the closet. The bed was unmade, sheets crumpled. But no movement.  
Only one door left.  
At the end of the hall.  
Evelyn exchanged a look with Sarah.  
Then she reached for the handle.  
The door wasn’t locked. It swung open with a slow, dragging sound.  
Inside.
A figure.  
Small. Curled up in the corner.  
A child.  
Evelyn’s breath caught. The boy looked no older than ten, his clothes ragged, his face gaunt. He clutched a rusted knife in his shaking hands.  
His wide, terrified eyes locked onto them.  
“Don’t,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “Please don’t.”  
Evelyn slowly lowered her knife.  
Sarah muttered a curse. “Shit.”  
The boy didn’t lower his weapon.  
Evelyn crouched slightly, keeping her voice calm. “We’re not here to hurt you.” 
The boy didn’t blink. He didn’t move.  
Sarah exhaled sharply. “Kid, we don’t have time for this.”  
The boy’s fingers tightened around the knife. “They’ll come back.”  
Evelyn frowned. “Who?”  
The boy swallowed hard. His lips trembled.  
“The men.”  
Evelyn’s stomach turned cold.  
Not infected.  
Something worse.  
Sarah clenched her jaw. “We need to go. Now.”  
Evelyn looked at the boy. “Can you walk?”  
He hesitated, then gave a small nod.  
“Then come with us,” she said.  
The boy stared at her for a long moment.  
Then, slowly, he lowered the knife.