Death doesn’t wait for you to choose. It decides when your time is up. Running is a risk—but waiting is a death sentence

The night stretched endlessly, cold and unforgiving. The rooftop beneath us was slick with moisture, the city below a graveyard of ruins and restless corpses. For a moment, none of us spoke, only listening—hearts pounding, breaths uneven, the distant groans of the undead crawling through the silence.

We had made it. But for how long?

Kennedy was the first to move, stepping toward the edge of the building, scanning the streets below. His posture was tense, like he was expecting something worse to come. Sophie crouched beside Andy, checking his wound even though he swore he was fine. I stayed still, gripping the fabric of my sleeve so tight my fingers ached.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were being watched.

It wasn’t the zombies. Their hunger was mindless, instinctive. This was different. It felt… deliberate.

A cold shiver ran down my spine, but I forced myself to push it aside. Now wasn’t the time for paranoia.

“Where do we go from here?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Kennedy exhaled slowly, turning back to us. “We keep moving.”

There was no other choice.

“We need to find a car, but I’m afraid that’d be too dangerous.”

Kennedy’s words hung in the cold night air, heavy with unspoken fears. He wasn’t wrong. The streets were crawling with the undead, and even if we managed to start a car, the noise alone would draw every monster within a mile.

Sophie crossed her arms, her expression unreadable. “Then what’s the alternative? We keep running until our legs give out?”

Andy let out a breathy chuckle, shifting his weight against the rooftop ledge. “Not sure if you’ve noticed, but I’m not exactly built for marathons anymore.”

Kennedy ran a hand through his hair, frustration flickering across his face. “We need somewhere safe to rest. Just for a few hours. Then we can figure out our next move.”

I hesitated, glancing over the edge of the rooftop. The streets below stretched into darkness, littered with abandoned cars, shattered glass, and bodies—some unmoving, some twitching. My stomach twisted.

“There.” I pointed toward a building a few blocks down. A parking garage, its lower levels swallowed by shadows. The upper floors looked empty—no movement, no signs of life.

Kennedy followed my gaze, considering. “Could work. It’s elevated, gives us a good vantage point. But if anything’s in there, we’ll be trapped.”

Sophie sighed. “We’re running out of choices.”

Andy adjusted his grip on his sidearm. “Then let’s make this one count.”

“No, you all stay here! I have more skills than some teenage girl and two old people.” Kennedy stated and was trying to make himself heard and understood. That was rude.

Sophie raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Excuse me?”

Andy scoffed, shaking his head. “Oh, so now we’re ‘old people,’ huh? Kid, I was hunting before you were even born.”

I crossed my arms, narrowing my eyes. “And I’m not just ‘some teenage girl.’ I’ve survived just as much as you have.”

Kennedy exhaled sharply, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “That’s not what I meant. I just—” He sighed, glancing between us. “I can move faster on my own. If something happens, I won’t have to worry about covering anyone else.”

Sophie folded her arms. “And if something happens to you?”

Kennedy hesitated. “It won’t.”

She let out a dry laugh. “Oh, right. Because you’re invincible?”

Andy clapped a hand on Kennedy’s shoulder, grinning. “Listen, son, I appreciate the bravado, but we’ve been sticking together for a reason. Splitting up is how people die.”

“No. First of all I’m a cop—therefore I’m not planning to risk your lives. I’ll find a car in that underground parking lot, then I’ll figure out on how to drive it up here..”

Sophie let out a sharp breath, crossing her arms. “You keep saying that like it means something.”

Kennedy shot her a glare. “It means I know what I’m doing.”

Andy huffed. “Yeah? And what happens when you don’t come back?”

I clenched my fists. “He won’t listen. He never does.”

Kennedy turned to me, expression unreadable. “Because I can’t afford to. This isn’t a debate, Short stick…” He paused. “If I don’t make it back, you three have a better chance without me dragging you down.”

Something about the way he said it made my stomach drop.

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “We’re not doing this. We stick together.”

Kennedy sighed, his grip tightening around his gun. “Listen to me kid—”

“No,” I snapped, stepping closer. “I don’t care if you’re a cop. I don’t care if you think you know better. I’ve lost enough people already and for four years I’ve been completely not knowing about outside the walls I was trapped in. You’re not going to be another. I want to be useful to you, ever since you saved me.”

For a moment, there was silence.

Then, reluctantly, he exhaled. “Damn it.” He ran a hand down his face before finally muttering, “Fine. But if anything goes wrong, you run. No heroics.”

Sophie smirked. “That’s funny, coming from you, dear.”

Kennedy shot her a look but didn’t argue. Instead, he turned toward the dark streets ahead.

“Let’s move.”

The cold air wrapped around us as we stepped cautiously out into the streets, the distant groans of the undead a constant reminder of what lurked in the shadows. The underground parking lot Kennedy mentioned was just a few blocks away, but every step toward it felt like walking straight into a trap.

Sophie kept close to Andy, her hand never leaving the hilt of her knife. I walked between them and Kennedy, who led the way with his gun drawn, his posture tense.

The city was eerily silent, only the occasional rustling of debris breaking the quiet. Windows in the surrounding buildings stood shattered, their jagged edges like broken teeth. The world felt hollow, abandoned—except for the things that hunted in the dark.

“We need to move fast,” Kennedy whispered. “The longer we stay out here, the worse it gets.”

We reached the entrance to the underground lot—a gaping concrete mouth descending into darkness. The scent of oil and dampness mixed with something fouler—something rotting.

Kennedy motioned for us to stay back as he peered inside. “Stay sharp,” he murmured, before stepping forward, gun raised.

I swallowed hard, gripping my knife. Every instinct screamed at me to turn back, but we needed a car. We had no choice.

Sophie exhaled, tightening her grip on Andy’s arm. “Let’s just hope this isn’t a mistake.”

I wasn’t sure if she was talking about the parking lot… or trusting Kennedy.

Either way, we were about to find out.