Adrian moved cautiously through the ruined streets, gripping the kitchen knife tightly. It wasn't the best weapon, but it was better than nothing.
The silence was oppressive. Paper debris swirled in the wind, drifting past shattered windows and abandoned cars. The city lay in darkness, its streetlights long dead.
His destination was a military surplus store on the west side of town. He had passed by it during his daily commute before the outbreak. The owner, a grizzled old veteran, always seemed to be polishing a shotgun behind the counter. Adrian hoped there was something left to scavenge.
As he approached a major intersection, he froze.
A strong, burnt stench lingered in the air. Ahead, charred vehicles blocked the road, and bloodstains marked the pavement. Shell casings were scattered everywhere. A firefight had taken place here—and not too long ago.
Then, a gunshot shattered the silence.
BANG!
Adrian dropped into a crouch, heart pounding as he scanned the street.
A man was sprinting toward him, breath ragged, terror in his eyes. Three or four infected were close behind, their twisted bodies moving with unnatural speed. The man clutched a handgun, but he was slowing down, exhaustion overtaking him.
"Shit," Adrian muttered under his breath.
To help or not?
Logic told him to stay hidden, to let the infected chase their prey away. But if he were in that man's position…
In a split second, he made his decision.
Rushing toward a nearby wrecked car, he climbed onto its hood and kicked a loose metal panel. The loud clang echoed through the empty street, grabbing the infected's attention.
They hesitated, their grotesque heads snapping toward the noise.
"Run!" Adrian shouted.
The man hesitated only for a moment before bolting toward a nearby alley.
Adrian inhaled sharply, waiting until the infected moved toward him before leaping off the car and sprinting down another street. He didn't look back, but the snarls and pounding footsteps told him they were gaining.
Rounding a corner, he spotted the military surplus store. Its iron gate was slightly ajar—a door to salvation.
Summoning every ounce of strength, he lunged forward, diving through the gap and rolling inside before kicking the gate shut.
Outside, the infected slammed against the metal barrier, shrieking in frustration.
Inside, the store was eerily silent, moonlight filtering through shattered windows. He gasped for breath, slowly rising to his feet, ready to search for weapons.
But before he could move, something cold pressed against his forehead.
The unmistakable barrel of a gun.
"Who the hell are you?" a low voice demanded.
Adrian slowly raised his hands, heart still racing.
One danger had been replaced by another.