The group trudged through the eerily silent streets, the weight of their chosen path settling over them. Mallory clutched the straps of her backpack, glancing at the familiar faces around her. Altair led the way with his usual efficiency, the map clutched tightly in his hand. Greg walked beside Vanessa, cracking jokes that earned him a mixture of groans and genuine laughs. Alex remained close to Mallory, a quiet presence she had grown to appreciate.
As they moved deeper into the city, the memories of their time together resurfaced. Mallory couldn't help but think back to the early days of the apocalypse when the apartment had been her sole refuge. Back then, the idea of venturing out had seemed impossible. Now, here she was, part of a mismatched team navigating a world gone mad.
It was a stark reminder of how much things had changed—and how much they had stayed the same.
The group came to a halt at a crossroad, where Altair studied the map with a furrowed brow. "We're close to an old supply drop," he said. "Shouldn't take us too far off course."
"Supplies are good," Greg said, already eyeing the nearby alley. "I vote we check it out."
"Agreed," Alex said. "We might not get another chance."
Mallory groaned. "Fine, but if this ends with me being chased by zombies again, I'm going to be very annoyed."
Greg smirked. "That's half the fun, isn't it?"
"Speak for yourself," she muttered, following the group into the alley.
The narrow passage was lined with abandoned cars and overturned trash bins, a claustrophobic maze that set Mallory's nerves on edge. She gripped the handle of her trusty frying pan, the weight of it reassuring.
"Here," Altair said, stopping in front of a boarded-up convenience store. The windows were smashed, and the door hung off its hinges, but the shelves inside were surprisingly intact.
Greg let out a low whistle. "Jackpot."
The group moved quickly, gathering canned goods, bottled water, and anything else they could carry. Mallory found herself drawn to a rack of snacks, where a familiar green package caught her eye.
"Cheese puffs," she whispered, tearing open the bag and stuffing a handful into her mouth. It was stale, but the flavor was a comforting reminder of better days.
"Really?" Alex said, raising an eyebrow as he watched her.
"What?" she said around a mouthful of cheese dust. "I'm stress-eating."
He shook his head but didn't comment further.
The group was just about to leave when a sudden noise froze them in place. A low growl echoed through the store, followed by the sound of shuffling footsteps.
"Zombies," Vanessa hissed, her hand tightening around her weapon.
"Out the back," Altair said, motioning for the group to follow him.
They moved quickly, but the noise grew louder, the unmistakable moans of the undead filling the air. Mallory's heart raced as they burst through the back door into an open courtyard.
"Keep moving!" Alex shouted, grabbing her arm as a horde of zombies poured out of the store.
Mallory stumbled, her frying pan swinging wildly as she tried to keep up. Greg and Vanessa fought off the closest zombies, their teamwork seamless.
"Over here!" Altair called, pointing to a fire escape.
The group scrambled up the metal ladder, the zombies clawing at their heels. Mallory reached the top just as a particularly large zombie grabbed her ankle.
"Let go!" she screamed, kicking at it with all her might.
Alex leaned over, his knife flashing as he severed the zombie's grip. "I've got you!"
Mallory climbed the rest of the way, her heart pounding. She collapsed onto the rooftop, gasping for air.
"Well," Greg said, brushing off his jacket. "That was fun."
Mallory glared at him. "Your definition of fun is seriously twisted."
He grinned. "You love it."
Despite herself, she laughed. It was ridiculous, but somehow, their banter made the chaos bearable.
The group took a moment to catch their breath, the city skyline stretching out before them. The supply run had been successful, but the close call was a stark reminder of the dangers they faced.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the city in a golden glow, Mallory found herself reflecting on how far they had come. It wasn't just about survival anymore—it was about finding purpose in a world that had lost its way.
---
Later that night, as the group set up camp in an abandoned office building, Mallory found herself alone with Alex. He was tending to a small fire, the flickering flames casting shadows across his face.
"You okay?" he asked, glancing up at her.
She nodded. "Just thinking."
"About what?"
"Everything," she said with a shrug. "The apartment, the apocalypse, how we all ended up here."
Alex leaned back, his expression thoughtful. "It's strange, isn't it? How something so terrible can bring people together."
She smiled. "Yeah. I mean, I never would've met you guys if it weren't for all this."
"Lucky us," he said, his tone teasing but his eyes sincere.
Mallory felt a warmth spread through her chest, and for a moment, she forgot about the zombies, the danger, and everything else.
"I'm glad we found each other," she said softly.
Alex's gaze lingered on her, and she thought she saw something unspoken pass between them. But before she could dwell on it, Greg's voice interrupted.
"Hey lovebirds! Save the mushy stuff for later. We've got watch duty."
Mallory groaned, but she couldn't help but laugh. As much as Greg annoyed her, she was grateful for his presence. He was a constant reminder that even in the darkest times, there was room for humor and camaraderie.
And as the night stretched on, Mallory realized that, despite everything, she wouldn't trade her strange, mismatched family for anything.