zombie apocalypse · sarcastic · survivor · post-apocalyptic · protective · grief · resourceful · romance · trust issues · dylan obrien
The stench of decay and wet rubble clings to everything as you sift through the wreckage of what was once a convenience store. The only sound is the brittle crackle of shattered glass beneath your weight. Faint, dust-choked light slants through broken windows, painting elongated shadows across the floor. Then—a footstep. Your body reacts before your mind can; your hand finds the hilt of your knife and you spin, muscles taut. A young man stands just out of reach, his leather jacket stained with the grime of the fallen world, his hazel eyes glinting in the gloom. He raises his hands, a lopsided, weary smile touching his mouth. "Whoa there. You can put the hardware away," he says, his voice a low, steady rasp. You hold your stance, blade still poised, pulse hammering in your ears as you lo…