The sun was timidly returning, bringing a faint warmth back to a city that had just endured another merciless night.
In the streets drifted broken silhouettes, staggering, utterly drained of life. You could feel the absolute exhaustion radiating from their slumped shoulders, their dragging feet, the stench of decay that preceded them.
Beneath the constant, low growling that blanketed Manhattan like a funeral shroud, a cat suddenly darted through the legs of the shambling creatures. A few of them immediately lurched after it, filling the air with guttural snarls.
Gradually, the sounds faded. The cat had outrun them.
From atop a small embankment overlooking the avenue, a young man in torn, mud-caked clothes watched the scene, eyes narrowed like makeshift binoculars.
"Dawn… Manhattan's getting faster every day. Guess I'm feeding him too well."
A wet, shuffling sound behind him.
He turned slowly.
A stalker. Belly torn open, entrails dragging along the asphalt with each step, throat shredded into a permanent wet gurgle. The skin, gray and waxy, peeled away in strips. Milky, lifeless eyes stared at nothing.
The young man let out a tired sigh.
Almost casually, he drew a dagger from beneath his once-white hoodie now a patchwork of dried mud and old blood and walked straight toward the creature. A single, practiced thrust through the rotting skull. A wet crack. Bits of brain matter and dark droplets splattered across his chest.
"Seriously? It was already ruined, but come on…"
Shaking his head in resignation, he turned his gaze back to the city below. Another long sigh.
He slid down the slope carefully.
The moment he reached street level, he cursed under his breath. His clothes were literally disintegrating. He barely had anything left.
"I really need to find some decent, durable clothing…"
Moving cautiously from shadow to shadow, he eventually spotted a small, half-ruined convenience store, windows cracked but still standing. The shelves looked depressingly empty… but maybe something had survived.
One last glance over his shoulder. The dead were still distant. Small mercy.
He slipped under the half-raised metal shutter as quietly as possible.
Flashlight out. Thin beam sweeping the dark aisles. Nothing. No movement. Yet.
He crouched behind the counter and began his search.
Just an ordinary convenience store: medicine, canned food, hygiene products, random everyday junk… or whatever was left of it.
The haul was pitiful. Shoe brushes, sewing thread, crushed candy, dead batteries… Nothing critical. Still, he managed to salvage some strong duct tape, a bar of soap, three half-full water bottles, and a few lighters.
He sat for a moment amid the wreckage, bag open, trying to make painful choices. What to take? What to abandon? What if he could never come back?
"Almost no food… but some useful stuff. Come on, prioritize…"
He'd been thinking for barely five minutes when a hand suddenly touched his shoulder.
His heart lurched.
Instinct took over he spun around, knife already rising… and froze an inch from the skull.
The dropped flashlight rolled, its beam now catching a feminine silhouette.
White knee-length dress, strangely clean. Skin the warm tone of aged oak. A cold, almost ethereal beauty glowing faintly in the dim light.
He blinked, throat tight.
"…How the hell did you get in here?"
But the question died as the noise he'd just made finally woke the dead.
Growls were converging. Fast.
He frantically grabbed everything in reach useful or not shoved it into his bag, took the woman's wrist, and bolted for the exit.
A stalker lunged and seized the bag.
"Shit!"
He nearly went down, caught himself by grabbing the rotting arm, drove his knife into the temple, and yanked free.
But the noise had summoned the rest.
He seized the stranger's hand, ducked under the shutter, and ran.
She followed… but far too slowly.
Leave her? The thought flashed through his mind for half a second. Then vanished.
With a frustrated growl, he scooped her up in his arms princess-style and ran, bag slamming against his back, legs burning.
"Goddamn it… goddamn it! Why is it always me who ends up in this kind of insane bullshit?!"
They eventually burst into an abandoned little restaurant.
Overturned tables, thick dust, bloodstains bleeding across walls that had once been sky blue. No one left. Neither living nor undead.
He gently set her down against the wall, panting, and finally looked at her properly.
Still impossibly beautiful.
"Hey… can you talk? Can you even hear me?"
A very faint nod. Almost imperceptible.
He rubbed his face, exhausted.
"What were you doing alone in a place like that… You're insanely lucky to still be breathing."
And only then only at that exact moment did he finally notice what he should have seen from the very first second.
He swallowed hard.
"…Hey… why are your eyes completely white?"