Morning settled over the ruined skyline, casting a dull light over the hollowed-out streets.

  Hugo sat against the cold concrete wall of the office building, his breathing slow and controlled. He had slept. That alone was rare. The exhaustion that had clung to him for days still lingered, but at least now he had a clearer head.

  Salem paced nearby, his yellow eyes locked on him, tail flicking sharply. Move.

  Hugo sighed and pushed himself to his feet. Four weeks. That’s how long it had been since the world had ended. Since the streets had been filled with screaming instead of silence. Now, downtown was a different kind of nightmare—one built from stillness and the overwhelming sense that something was always watching.

  The bridge to his brothers was still miles away. He had no choice but to go deeper into the city.

  And that meant more of the dead.

  He adjusted the straps on his backpack and moved.

  The city had changed.

  Not enough time had passed for nature to recim it, but decay had seeped into every corner. Trash piled high on sidewalks. Flyers and newspapers clung to the pavement, stuck in dried blood. Cars sat abandoned mid-turn, doors hanging open. In some pces, desperate barricades had been built and then torn down.

  The world hadn’t ended cleanly. It had fought tooth and nail before finally colpsing.

  Hugo kept his pace measured, sticking to the edges of buildings as he moved. He had spent the st few days carefully avoiding the densest areas, but downtown was different. It didn’t allow avoidance.

  Every street was clogged with cars, making quick movement impossible. Every alley was a potential death trap.

  And then there were the dead.

  They were everywhere.

  Some wandered between the rusting vehicles, their bodies swaying unnaturally as if caught in a breeze no one could feel. Others stood motionless, their hollow eyes staring at nothing, as if waiting for a reason to move.

  And then there were the runners.

  Hugo had learned fast that they were different. They didn’t shuffle. They waited. Stalking in the ruins, perched on wreckage, their bodies twitching with unnatural tension.

  They weren’t just predators. They were patient.

  He moved carefully, passing a looted storefront that had once been a convenience store. The doors had been smashed in, the floor inside littered with trampled food wrappers and shattered gss.

  Nothing useful left.

  Salem darted ahead, hopping onto the hood of a car before slipping down a side alley. Hugo followed, stepping over a dried-out corpse wedged between two trash bins. Whoever they had been, they were long past saving.

  Then—

  A scream.

  Hugo froze.

  It wasn’t the mindless wail of the infected. It was human.

  A second ter—a crash.

  His first instinct was to keep moving.

  But then the scream came again—closer, desperate.

  Hugo clenched his jaw.

  Damn it.

  Hugo moved toward the noise, weaving through the wreckage of an overturned bus. He came into a small, open pza, the remains of an outdoor market still lingering—empty stalls, scattered produce now long rotted away.

  And in the center—

  A woman.

  She was backed against a fallen kiosk, gripping a rusted metal pipe, swinging wildly at four walkers advancing on her. Her arms were shaking, her footing slipping.

  She wasn’t going to st.

  Hugo acted without thinking.

  "HEY!"

  The zombies snapped their heads toward him, groaning hungrily.

  The woman’s eyes widened.

  Hugo was already moving, pulling his crowbar free as the first walker lunged.

  CRACK.

  The crowbar smashed into its skull, splitting bone and sending it crumpling.

  The second one turned toward him, reaching—

  Hugo swung low, shattering its knee. The thing colpsed, snarling as it cwed at the pavement. A second ter, he smmed the crowbar down again, ending it.

  The third was closing in on the woman.

  She swung the pipe, but her arms were weak. The blow barely slowed the walker down.

  Hugo didn’t hesitate.

  He yanked his pistol from his holster, aimed—

  Bang.

  The bullet punched through the zombie’s skull, dropping it instantly.

  The st one was already on him.

  Hugo turned, barely raising the crowbar in time to block its grasping hands. Its rotting fingers cwed at him, its jaw snapping inches from his throat.

  With a grunt, he shoved it back, breaking its grip—then swung.

  CRUNCH.

  The walker colpsed, twitching once before going still.

  Silence.

  Hugo exhaled slowly, scanning the area. No more threats. For now.

  The woman was panting, eyes wide with disbelief.

  For a moment, neither of them spoke.

  Then, her voice cracked. “…You saved me.”

  Hugo’s fingers tightened around the crowbar.

  “Are you hurt?” he asked.

  She shook her head too quickly. “I—I don’t think so.”

  Hugo exhaled. “We need to move. More will be coming.”

  She hesitated, gncing at the bodies, her hands trembling.

  “I—I don’t know where to go.”

  Hugo clenched his jaw.

  Another burden. Another risk.

  But he already knew what he was going to say.

  “Come with me.”

  Her breath hitched. “…Are you sure?”

  Hugo scanned the area again, weighing the risk.

  He had already gotten involved.

  Leaving her here wasn’t an option anymore.

  “Yeah,” he said, tightening his grip on the crowbar. “Let’s go.”

  The woman hesitated for only a second before darting back toward the fallen kiosk. Hugo tensed, scanning the street as she dug through the wreckage, yanking free a worn-out hiking backpack that had been shoved under a colpsed stall.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Hugo hissed.

  She slung the bag over her shoulders. “Food,” she panted. “I—I grabbed what I could before they cornered me.”

  Hugo didn’t argue. Food was rare. But time was rarer.

  Then he heard it.

  The first groan.

  Then another.

  Then dozens.

  Hugo turned his head sharply—and his stomach dropped.

  The street was flooding with walkers.

  From the alleys, from the side streets, from inside shattered stores where they had been trapped in the dark. The gunshot had drawn them like flies to rotting flesh.

  And now, they were pouring toward the market square.

  Hugo grabbed her wrist.

  “Run.”

  She didn’t argue.

  They bolted.

  The market had once been a maze of vendor stalls, set up in a wide-open square surrounded by brick buildings. But now, it was a death trap.

  The exits were clogged with the dead, their rotting faces twisted in hunger.

  Hugo pulled her toward the only gap left—an alleyway to the right. It was narrow, wedged between two buildings, the walls so close together they barely had space to sprint side by side.

  Salem had already darted ahead, a bck shadow weaving through the debris.

  The woman gasped beside him, her boots smming against the pavement. “Where—where are we going?”

  “Anywhere but here,” Hugo muttered, gripping his crowbar in one hand, his pistol in the other. He had bullets, but shooting would only make things worse.

  The alley twisted sharply, leading them into a side street filled with overturned cars. The rusted skeletons of abandoned vehicles littered the road, forming obstacles between them and escape.

  Behind them—

  The horde followed.

  They pushed forward, dodging past wreckage, vaulting over fallen dumpsters.

  Salem slipped under a half-crushed sedan, barely slowing. Hugo and the woman scrambled over its hood.

  Behind them, the first walker crashed into the car, snarling.

  Another cwed over its back, dragging itself after them.

  They weren’t fast, but they were many.

  “Where now?” the woman gasped.

  Hugo scanned the street frantically. The road ahead was partially blocked—an overturned bus had crashed into a fire hydrant, the front end buried in the second floor of a brick building. A pile of colpsed scaffolding made the passage nearly impossible.

  There was no going through.

  But maybe—

  “There!” Hugo pointed toward an old undromat. The gss windows had long since been shattered, the sign hanging by a single rusted chain.

  It had a back exit.

  He knew that from his st run through this city.

  It wasn’t perfect, but it was something.

  “Inside!”

  They sprinted for the door.

  The woman stumbled as her foot caught on a loose chunk of concrete—Hugo grabbed her arm, yanking her upright before she could fall.

  They reached the undromat just as the first wave of walkers hit the sidewalk.

  Hugo shoved her through the broken door, gss crunching beneath their boots as they skidded inside.

  The stench hit them instantly.

  Rot. Dampness. The sour stink of mildew clinging to the ruined machines.

  Rows of rusted washing machines stood like tombstones against the walls, their doors hanging open, filled with stagnant water and old, rotting clothing.

  No time to stop.

  Hugo grabbed her wrist again. “Come on—there’s a back door.”

  They sprinted past overturned undry carts, dodging between shattered detergent bottles.

  The back exit was in sight.

  Then—

  A walker lunged from the side.

  Hugo barely twisted in time, the thing’s rotting fingers cwing at his backpack.

  “MOVE!” he shouted, swinging the crowbar.

  CRACK.

  The walker’s jaw shattered, but it didn’t fall.

  The woman let out a cry, grabbing a metal undry pole from the floor and ramming it into the creature’s side.

  Hugo didn’t wait. He brought the crowbar down again—hard.

  The walker colpsed.

  More groans filled the room.

  The noise had drawn others inside.

  “Go! Now!”

  The woman bolted, shoving the back door open.

  Hugo followed, Salem slipping past his legs as they tumbled into the alley beyond.

  They kept running.

  Through another maze of side streets.

  Hugo could feel his lungs burning, the weight of his pack digging into his shoulders.

  The woman was struggling, panting hard.

  But she kept moving.

  That was all that mattered.

  After what felt like an eternity, they finally slowed.

  Hugo dragged her into an old parking garage, shoving the heavy metal door closed behind them.

  They colpsed against the wall, breathing hard.

  For a long time, neither of them spoke.

  Only the sound of their ragged gasps filled the air.

  Finally—

  The woman let out a weak, breathless ugh. “That was—that was insane.”

  Hugo wiped the sweat from his forehead. “Welcome to the end of the world.”

  She exhaled sharply, closing her eyes for a second before lifting her bag and pulling it onto her p.

  She unzipped it, revealing her loot—food.

  Cans. Protein bars. A few bottles of water.

  Not much.

  But enough to be worth risking her life for.

  Hugo watched as she ran a shaking hand through her dirt-streaked hair, letting out another breathless ugh.

  “You really saved my ass.”

  Hugo gnced at her.

  For a second, he didn’t know what to say.

  Then, finally—

  “…Yeah.”

  The city wasn’t any safer.

  But for now, they were alive.

  The silence stretched between them, broken only by the distant groans of the dead outside. Hugo leaned against the cold concrete wall, catching his breath, his body still tense despite their temporary safety. The woman sat across from him, her back pressed against the base of a rusted support beam. Her hands trembled slightly as she dug through her bag, fingers fumbling with the zipper.

  She looked exhausted.

  Now that they weren’t running for their lives, Hugo took a better look at her. She was in her te twenties, maybe early thirties, with sharp, dark brown eyes and tanned skin smudged with dirt. Her shoulder-length bck hair was pulled into a messy ponytail, loose strands sticking to her sweat-slicked forehead. She wore a dark long-sleeved thermal shirt, yered under a worn green utility jacket with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Her jeans were torn at the knees, stained with dust and dried blood. A few bruises and scratches lined her arms—some fresh, some older.

  She wasn’t a fighter. At least, not like Hugo had become. But she had survived this long, which meant she was smart—or just lucky.

  Salem sat between them, licking his paw before rubbing it over his ear, seemingly indifferent to the chaos they had barely escaped. The woman let out a breath, finally breaking the silence.

  “Guess I should say thanks,” she said, voice still a little breathless. She gave a weak, tired smile. “You really saved my ass back there.”

  Hugo shrugged. “Didn’t have much of a choice. You were making too much noise.”

  She scoffed, shaking her head. “Wow. And here I thought you were just being heroic.”

  Hugo smirked, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Heroism gets you killed.”

  She nodded slowly, her expression sobering. “Yeah… yeah, I’m starting to get that.” She stretched her legs out, wincing slightly before rubbing at her shin. “Name’s Riley.”

  Hugo hesitated. He had gotten used to being alone. To not bothering with introductions. But something about this moment—about her looking at him, waiting—made it feel like not answering would be wrong.

  “Hugo,” he said finally.

  Riley nodded, as if committing it to memory. “Well, Hugo, I owe you one.”

  He shook his head. “You don’t. Just don’t slow me down.”

  Riley let out a quiet ugh. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll try my best.”

  She leaned back against the beam, rubbing a hand over her face. The weight of exhaustion was clear in her posture, the slump of her shoulders.

  Hugo watched her for a second before reaching into his pack. He pulled out one of the few remaining bottles of water and tossed it to her.

  She caught it clumsily, blinking in surprise before giving him a small, appreciative nod. “Thanks.”

  Hugo didn’t reply. He just exhaled, looking toward the darkened entrance of the parking garage. They couldn’t stay here forever. The city was still waiting for them.

  And it wasn’t going to get any easier.