As the deadly infection spreads, enveloping the world in suffocating despair, you are forced to endure the new horrific reality alone. An unexpected encounter with an enigmatic stranger changes everything. Your first meeting with him almost ended in...
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You stare at Simon. He refuses to move away from the window. Dim moonlight trickles through the curtains and illuminates his silhouette. His figure casts a dark, elongated shadow that seems to stretch across the living room floor. Your eyes glide up and down his body, and once in a while settle on his hand. He grips the pistol. His hold is so tight that his knuckles have bleached to a stark white from the strain.
The stifling silence that hangs heavy in the room is almost unbearable. It's like a thick, oppressive fog that refuses to lift. You bite down on your tongue to stop yourself from breaking the tense stillness. He had forbidden you from uttering even a single word. You feel suffocated by the countless questions that swirl in your mind like dust in a tornado. Every time you shift on the couch, the soft rustling of the pillows earns you an icy glare from him.
Simon also orders you to remain in the living room. When you try to stand and walk to your bedroom, he barks a hushed command for you to sit your ass back down. His voice is laden with a muted menace. You know he is afraid that you might try to sneak away, to slip out of the house and into the night, if he lets you out of his sight, even if only for a moment. His paranoia is palpable.
After what feels like an eternity of staring into the cold fireplace, growing restlessness compels you to peel yourself from the couch. The room's chill seeps into your bones. You tiptoe towards Simon. As you press against him, your hand wraps around his arm, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. You lift your chin and peek over his shoulder. His index finger is still hooked into the heavy, moth-eaten curtains, holding them. Through the small, narrow gap, your view is limited. But it's more than enough to see the two shadowy figures still are out there, wandering down the street. They move with a grave, unspoken purpose. Their flashlights cut through the all-encompassing darkness like lighthouses in a tempestuous sea. The light beams punctuate the shadows, illuminating the sombre house fronts in sporadic bursts, seeking any signs of movement within the abandoned homes.
"Why are they looking for you?" The question slips from you in a whispered murmur, directed towards his ear. He returns your query with an angry stare, his nostrils flaring in a display of growing irritation. His eyes darken with an unspoken warning.
With a heavy sigh, you close your mouth and press your lips together in a tight line. You're gripped by the fear that if you dare to utter another word, he'll find something - anything - to shove into your mouth to silence you. Your attention shifts when, out of the corner of your eye, you catch sight of the dog bounding towards your home. A sudden, intense dread descends upon you. Your heart sinks into the pit of your stomach as if it's a stone cast in deep, murky waters. The icy tendrils of paralysing terror slither across your skin.
"While you slept, I... I saw that dog. It was prowling around our front yard," you say, despite the lump forming in your throat. As the words leave your mouth, you feel Simon's muscles tighten under your touch. "Do you think it could lead them to us?"
