The morning light filtered through cracks in the ruined walls, illuminating the makeshift safe zone where Alex had spent the night. His body ached, every muscle sore from the previous day's ordeal. He sat up slowly, the events of the night before replaying in his mind: the horde, the enhancements, and the bracelet that had saved his life.
His stomach growled, a painful reminder of how long it had been since he'd eaten.
Pushing himself to his feet, Alex searched the small storage room he had stumbled into the night before. Old crates and shelves lined the walls, but most were empty, their contents long since scavenged. After an hour of searching, all he managed to find was a half-full bottle of water and a faded map of the city.
The map was brittle and covered in smudges, but he could make out key landmarks. His eyes fell on a location circled in red: Storehouse 17B. The annotation next to it read, Supplies—Unconfirmed.
It was his only lead.
After securing the map and his knife in his pack, Alex tightened the straps and exited the safe zone, the morning sun warming his back. The streets were eerily quiet, the kind of silence that felt alive, as though the city itself was holding its breath.
---
The journey to the storehouse was slow and tense. Alex moved cautiously, sticking to alleys and shadows. The map helped him avoid large hordes of zombies, though he occasionally heard their guttural moans in the distance.
As he approached an intersection, he froze. A figure stood in the middle of the street, hunched over and examining something on the ground.
Another zombie? Alex thought, gripping his knife. But something was off. The figure moved with purpose, its motions deliberate and human-like.
Alex hesitated, his instincts torn between caution and curiosity. He hadn't seen another person since waking up in this ruined city.
The figure suddenly straightened, its head snapping in Alex's direction. It was a man, roughly Alex's age, with short, disheveled hair and a lean build. He was dressed in tattered clothes, and his eyes narrowed as they locked onto Alex.
"Hey!" the man called out, raising a hand in what seemed like a gesture of peace.
Alex didn't reply immediately, his grip on the knife tightening. His mind raced with questions. Who was this guy? Could he be trusted?
"I'm not looking for trouble," the man continued, taking a cautious step forward. "You alone out here?"
Alex hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah. You?"
"Same." The man stopped a few feet away, his hands raised to show he wasn't armed. "Name's Carter."
"Alex."
For a moment, the two stood in silence, each assessing the other. Carter's eyes flicked to Alex's wrist, but he quickly looked away, as though dismissing it. Alex caught the glance but didn't think much of it.
"You headed somewhere?" Carter asked.
"Storehouse 17B," Alex replied cautiously. He wasn't sure why he answered, but the idea of teaming up—even temporarily—felt like a safer bet than venturing on alone.
Carter raised an eyebrow. "That place? Heard it might still have supplies, but it's crawling with things that'd tear you apart. You sure about this?"
"I don't have much of a choice," Alex said. "No food, and I'm running low on water."
Carter sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Fair enough. Mind if I tag along? Safety in numbers and all that."
Alex hesitated. Trusting a stranger in a world like this was dangerous, but so was traveling alone. After a moment, he nodded. "Fine. But we stick to the map and keep quiet. Deal?"
"Deal," Carter said with a faint smile.
---
The two moved through the ruined streets together, their progress slow but steady. They communicated in hushed whispers and hand signals, avoiding trouble whenever possible.
Alex noticed that Carter was surprisingly agile, his movements precise and efficient. It reminded Alex of the enhancements he'd used the night before, but he brushed off the thought. Everyone who survived this long had to be resourceful.
As they neared the storehouse, they paused at the edge of an overgrown parking lot. The building loomed ahead, its metal doors hanging ajar.
Carter knelt beside Alex, scanning the area. "Doesn't look like there's anyone—or anything—out here. But inside might be a different story."
Alex nodded, his hand brushing against his bracelet as he tightened his grip on his knife. He didn't activate an enhancement yet, not wanting to reveal it unless absolutely necessary.
The two crept toward the storehouse, their footsteps silent on the cracked pavement. As they reached the entrance, Alex felt a strange, almost magnetic pull from his wrist. He glanced at Carter and noticed the man rubbing his own wrist absentmindedly, as if drawn by the same sensation.
Neither said anything, but a chill ran down Alex's spine. Something was connecting them, even if they didn't yet realize it.
For now, the priority was survival—and whatever waited for them inside the storehouse.