Trust is a fragile thing, especially when you’re left alone.

Kennedy’s POV:

“Hey, girl! I haven’t asked for your name,” I said in a stern voice.

“Sorry… I’m Alisha,” she answered softly.

I hummed. “And your age?”

“What date is it?” she asked.

“We’re in the beginning of February. February 4th.”

“Ah… then I just turned 18.”

Eighteen? She looks a bit older.

“I’ll introduce myself again. I’m Kennedy Brown. I’m Russian and 24 years old.” I chuckled. “But FYI, I’m not as nice as you might think. I’m arrogant, and honestly, I would’ve left you to get eaten by zombies. But I didn’t—because I wanted someone to talk to. Haha.”

“You’re Russian and your name is Kennedy?”

“Ah…! Use your brain, kid. It’s easy, I just changed it when I moved to America.”

She didn’t say anything more, just nodded. Strange girl.

Alisha’s POV:

The next day, I woke up to see him lying next to me. His eyes were closed, and his breathing was steady.

The sun shone brightly above my head in the mesmerizing cyan sky. I turned to my side and felt the comfort of the air mattress. I hadn’t slept in a decent bed for four years. Back then, those men—those monsters who tortured me—never gave me a proper bed. Just a hard wooden surface with a thin mattress.

This… this felt different. Softer. Safer.

“If you’re awake, then stop clinging onto me like a koala,” he muttered, slightly annoyed.

I quickly moved away, embarrassed. “Ah… I’m sorry…”

He sighed and sat up, resting his arm on his knee.

“Hey, uh… is there any cure or vaccine against the zombies?” I whispered, my voice cautious. Who knew if those things were lurking nearby?

He let out another sigh. “Yeah. There’s a cure. It’s called ‘AZI-1.’ Stands for ‘Anti-Zombie Infection.’”

I nodded slowly. “Then… why doesn’t the government use it?”

He scoffed. “Because they don’t want to. This apocalypse? It was planned. They want to reduce the world’s population to two billion. This was caused by China, Russia, and the U.S.”

My breath hitched. “You’re joking. Two billion?! That’s insane! How the hell do they plan on killing five billion people?!”

“Shut. Up.” He shot me a glare. “You’re yelling at me like I’m the one behind this shit.”

I clenched my fists, frustration and fear battling inside me. Before I could say more, my stomach growled, loud and embarrassing.

Kennedy smirked. “Hungry?”

“Kinda…”

He chuckled, grabbing a pack of crackers from his bag. “Here. Eat.”

I didn’t care what it was. Food was food. I began munching on them, happiness filling me as I did a small, wiggly dance.

“What the hell are you doing, dumb girl?” he blurted.

“A happy dance.” I grinned through my chewing.

He reached out and covered my mouth. “Don’t talk with your mouth full. That’s disgusting.”

Later that day…

Kennedy packed some gear, strapping weapons to his belt. I wanted to ask where he was going, but the words felt stuck in my throat. I didn’t want to be left alone again.

“Look for supplies, obviously. Why are you asking?” he furrowed his eyebrows.

“Can I go with you? Please don’t leave me here!” I pleaded. Being alone was terrifying. Even after all this time, it never got easier.

“No. Your injuries aren’t healed. Running around will only reopen your wounds,” he responded, slightly annoyed.

I didn’t get the chance to say more. He turned away, walking off.

I wanted to call out. Wanted to yell. But I couldn’t.

‘Please,’ I shouted in my head. ‘Don’t leave me alone. Not again.’

Hours passed. The air grew colder, and bugs hovered above me. I sat on the mattress, silent tears slipping down my face, small drops hitting the leaves below.

He left me. Didn’t he?

Why save me, only to leave me behind?

Damn cop…

A sudden shiver ran down my spine. I froze, hearing footsteps.

My heart pounded.

Someone was out there.

Kennedy’s POV:

I panted, exhausted from running and killing. Luckily, I had enough time to grab what I needed.

As I approached the tent, I frowned. It was too quiet.

Suspicious.

Gun loaded, I slowly walked forward.

Then I heard it—soft whimpers coming from inside.

Dumb girl.

I put my gun down and pulled open the tent flap—only for a thick stick to fly straight into my face.

“Arghh?!” I groaned, stumbling backward, holding my face in pain.

A gasp followed, then a slap across my cheek. I growled and grabbed her wrist.

“Just what the hell are you doing, dumb girl?!” I scoffed, spitting out blood.

Her eyes filled with tears. “I thought you were a zombie! And you deserved it for leaving me!”

I sighed, rubbing my temple. “Brat. You’ve got good reflexes and instincts, but damn.”

She hesitated before mumbling, “I’m sorry…” and gently touched my lip.

Cute.

I flicked her forehead—hard.

“Ow! I said I was sorry! No need to flick me!”

“That’s your reward for stupidity.”

She pouted, muttering curses under her breath. “Stupid cop, I hate him.”

Silly girl.

I sighed and handed her a can of tuna. “Eat.”

She took it, eyes narrowing. “Where did you find this?”

I smirked. “In my pocket.”

She scoffed but started eating.

An idea hit me.

I snatched the can from her and took a bite myself. She gasped, lunging for it.

“Heyy! That’s mine!”

“Sharing is caring~” I teased, holding it out of reach.

“You’re so mean! Are you even a real cop?!”

“I have an ID, if you want proof.”

“Whatever,” she mumbled, grabbing some crackers instead.

The night air grew colder, and she scooted closer to the fire. I glanced at her and, for a brief moment, admired the way the flames reflected in her eyes.

Silly girl.