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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"Y/N? What are you doing here?"
You pivot when Simon's voice, deep and edged like a well-honed blade, cuts through the silence. His broad frame fills the doorway. His gaze is intense, and bores into you, causing an uncomfortable shudder to ripple down your spine. For a moment that stretches out like a shadow at sunset, he just stands there, observing you, trying to understand why you aren't in bed with him, but instead kneeling outside on the porch. Then, suddenly, Simon lunges forward, his expression a confusing mix of anger and panic.
Taken aback by his sudden movement, you stumble backwards. Your heart pounds in your chest. But before you regain your footing, you feel a chilling touch — cold, lifeless fingers wrapping around your shoulder. The smell hits you immediately after. It's a sickening, rotten odour that makes your stomach churn with unease. Your eyes widen in terror as you realise that a biter is latching onto you. Its dead, hollow eyes stare into yours as it tries to pull you closer, eager to sink its teeth into the soft flesh of your neck. Scream, sharp, and piercing like a shattered mirror, tears through your throat as you struggle to shake the biter off.
Without missing a beat, Simon rushes forward, pulling you away from the dead man. With a quick, forceful movement, he throws you towards the front door, away from the danger. In his hand, he holds a knife. He plunges it into the biter's skull.
"Get inside—Now!" He roars, his voice echoing in the still air after a quick, frantic glance in your direction. His eyes are wild with fear, darting around the front yard. Your screams have attracted more biters, who are now all shambling toward the house. As you stumble inside, you look over your shoulder. You see Simon, his face a mask of indecision as he tries to weigh the odds of taking them out. But the reality of the situation forces him to retreat. He dashes inside too, slamming the door shut.
The biters pile up on the porch, a grotesque tableau of death. You can hear their guttural growling. The clicking of their teeth and scratching of their nails against the door send shivers down your spine as they try to force their way in. Simon drags you from the door, down a dark, narrow hallway. He guides you to the staircase. His hands are firm on your shoulders as he pushes you to sit.
"I—sorry. I never... should have gone d-down there... I should have listened to you. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—" You start crying. Your words spill out in a jumbled and hurried fashion, leaving little room for clarity.
Simon is perplexed. He finds himself at a loss, struggling to piece together a puzzle of what has transpired. His memory only serves to remind him of the moment he drifted off to sleep, with you securely nestled in his arms. What occurred between now and then to cause you to behave in such a manner? And how on earth did you end up outside?
His concern is palpable as he voices the question that is floating in his mind. "Are you hurt?" Without wasting another moment, he frantically examines your body. His fingers rake across your skin, scouring for any traces of bites or scratches.
