Eve perched on the roof of a warehouse, her legs dangling over the edge as if she didn’t have a care in the world. The air was crisp, carrying with it the faint stench of decay, a constant reminder of the chaos below. From her vantage point, the horde looked almost manageable—a slow, shuffling tide of bodies moving aimlessly, their groans blending into an eerie symphony. She smirked bitterly. Manageable, if you weren’t stupid enough to get caught in their path.

The roof had no direct access, save for a rusted ladder she’d climbed earlier, each rung groaning under her weight. She trusted it to hold, though she’d glanced down more than once, half-expecting it to snap and send her crashing to the pavement. Now, she leaned back on her palms, letting her aching muscles relax. Her entire body felt like a stretched-out rubber band ready to snap, the consequence of days spent running, fighting, and scavenging.

Reaching into one of her many cargo pockets, Eve fished out a crushed protein bar and tore it open with her teeth. She chewed slowly, savoring the chalky, artificial sweetness like it was a gourmet meal. “Dinner of champions,” she muttered to herself, brushing crumbs off her lap.

The town was quiet—eerily so. She had scouted for supplies all day, ducking through abandoned shops and looted homes, but most of it had already been picked clean. No surprise there. It was rare to find a place untouched. What had surprised her was the girl.

The girl with the dark almond eyes and long, tangled hair.

Eve’s brow furrowed as the memory came unbidden, that face swimming to the forefront of her mind. Tears had streaked down her cheeks, carving glistening paths through dirt and blood, her expression frozen somewhere between fury and utter devastation. Eve could still hear her voice trembling as she’d accused her—blamed her—for what had happened.

That was my dad. Oh God, what did you do?

Eve took another bite of her protein bar, but it tasted like sawdust now. She leaned forward, elbows on her knees, and stared out at the horizon. The sun was beginning to set, painting the rooftops and broken streets with muted golds and pinks. The girl probably wouldn’t make it. That much was obvious. She had “easy target” written all over her—no survival instincts, no real sense of the world she’d stumbled into.

How the hell had she lasted this long? Dumb luck, maybe. Or someone else had been looking out for her. Someone who wasn’t around anymore.

Eve sighed, running a hand through her cropped hair. “Not my problem,” she muttered aloud, as if saying it would make it true. The girl’s survival—or lack of it—wasn’t Eve’s responsibility. She couldn’t afford to take on dead weight, not when she was already hauling around enough of her own.

The soft crunch of movement below caught her attention, pulling her from her thoughts. She froze, tilting her head to listen. The horde was still drifting by, sluggish and aimless, but one or two of them had broken away, sniffing the air as if they’d caught a faint whiff of prey. Eve glanced toward the direction they were headed. Her stomach twisted.

Eve spotted her at the edge of the alley, cornered against a chain-link fence. The girl stood stiff as a board, clutching a hammer with both hands like it was a lifeline. Her knuckles were white, her arms trembling, and her chest heaved with frantic breaths.

“Unbelievable,” Eve muttered under her breath, the words dripping with disdain. She crouched on the roof for a moment longer, as if staying put might convince her not to get involved. But her gaze stayed fixed on the girl, watching as one of the infected shambled closer, its lifeless eyes locking onto her like she was the only thing left in the world.

The girl swung the hammer, a frantic, wide arc that nearly threw her off balance. She missed.

Eve let out a sharp sigh, shoving the half-eaten protein bar back into the pocket of her cargo shorts. She stood abruptly, cursing under her breath as she grabbed her bat.

“This is stupid,” she hissed to herself. She wasn’t even sure why she was doing this. The logical part of her brain screamed to stay on the roof, to let the dead do what they always did. But something about the girl’s sheer helplessness made it impossible to turn away.

Eve slid down the ladder in record time, her boots hitting the pavement with a solid thud. She didn’t stop to plan. There wasn’t time. The infected were closing in fast, drawn to the girl’s panicked movements like sharks scenting blood.

By the time Eve reached the edge of the alley, the girl had managed to land a hit. The hammer connected with the side of a zombie’s skull, and it crumpled to the ground. But there were more behind it—three, maybe four—clambering over the fallen body.

The girl stumbled back, her foot catching on a loose brick. She hit the fence with a dull clang, eyes wide and brimming with tears. Her grip on the hammer faltered for a moment, and Eve saw it. That split second of terror, the realization that she wasn’t going to make it.

“Dammit,” Eve muttered, breaking into a run.

The first infected turned toward her, its head snapping around with a guttural snarl. Eve didn’t slow down. She raised the bat over her shoulder and swung with all her strength, the satisfying crack of bone and wood echoing in the alley.

“Move!” she barked, sparing the girl a brief glance as she stepped forward to take on the next one.

The girl just stared at her, frozen in place, her chest rising and falling like a rabbit caught in a trap.

“Are you deaf? I said move!”

That seemed to snap her out of it. She scrambled to the side, pressing herself flat against the fence as Eve took another swing. Blood sprayed across the pavement as the bat connected, sending another body to the ground.

The last one lunged for her, faster than the others. Eve twisted her body, sidestepping its outstretched arms, and brought the bat down hard on the back of its neck. The thing collapsed in a heap, twitching for a moment before going still.

Eve straightened, wiping sweat from her brow with the back of her arm. She turned to the girl, who was still pressed against the fence, the hammer dangling limply in her hands.

“Seriously?” Eve said, her voice sharp. “A hammer? That you can’t even swing!”

The girl’s lip quivered, but she didn’t say anything. Her eyes darted between Eve and the mangled corpses littering the ground, her face pale.

Eve rolled her eyes and adjusted the bat on her shoulder. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

The girl finally found her voice, though it came out shaky and weak. “I... I didn’t ask for your help.”

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Eve barked a laugh, a bitter sound that echoed off the alley walls. “No, you didn’t. But you sure as hell needed it.”

She turned, starting to walk away. She had no intention of sticking around to babysit some random girl who didn’t even know how to defend herself. But before she’d made it two steps, the girl called out.

“Wait!”

Eve paused, glancing over her shoulder. The girl had stepped away from the fence, her expression a mix of desperation and determination.

“Please,” she said, her voice cracking. “Don’t leave me.”

Eve froze at the words.

Her grip tightened on the bat, her knuckles whitening. For a moment, she stood still, staring straight ahead, her back to the girl. The words echoed in her mind, pulling at something she wasn’t ready to name.

“Not my problem,” she muttered under her breath, as much to herself as to the girl. She took a step forward, trying to shove the guilt aside, trying to convince herself that she didn’t owe this stranger a damn thing.

But then she heard it: the low groans, faint but growing louder.

Eve turned her head just slightly, enough to see movement in the shadows at the far end of the alley. More of them—stragglers—drawn in by the sound of the earlier fight. They stumbled over the corpses of the freshly downed, heads twitching unnaturally as they locked onto new prey.

Her jaw clenched. “Great,” she muttered, glancing back at the girl. The hammer was back in her trembling hands, her expression somewhere between terror and pleading.

“Fine,” Eve growled. “You can come. For now.”

The girl’s shoulders sagged with visible relief, but Eve cut her off before she could say anything. “Don’t thank me. This isn’t permanent, got it? We just need to get somewhere safe, and then we’re done.”

The girl nodded quickly, her grip tightening on the hammer.

Eve scanned the alley. The infected were closing in, their groans growing louder, their pace picking up now that they’d spotted the two of them. “Come on,” she snapped, motioning for the girl to follow. “And try to keep up. I’m not sticking my neck out for you again.”

She took off at a brisk pace, her bat held ready, her eyes darting to every shadow and every corner. The girl stumbled after her, her boots scraping against the pavement in a way that made Eve wince.

“Quieter,” Eve hissed over her shoulder. “You want to bring the whole damn town down on us?”

“Sorry,” the girl whispered, but Eve didn’t respond. She didn’t have the energy to deal with the girl’s nerves. All she could focus on was getting out of this alley and finding a spot to regroup.

They turned a corner, only to find more of the dead stumbling toward them. Eve cursed under her breath and swung her bat, the sound of impact reverberating through the narrow street. She didn’t stop to look at the carnage, grabbing the girl by the arm and yanking her along before the rest could catch up.

“There!” Eve spotted a small convenience store up ahead, its glass door miraculously intact. She sprinted for it, throwing the door open and shoving the girl inside before slamming it shut behind them.

“Check the locks,” Eve ordered, her breath coming in short bursts.

The girl fumbled with the lock on the door, her hands shaking, but she managed to slide the bolt into place. Eve grabbed a metal display rack and wedged it against the door for good measure.

For a moment, the only sound was their ragged breathing. Eve leaned against the wall, her bat still in her hand, her heart pounding in her chest.

The girl collapsed onto the floor, clutching the hammer to her chest like it was the only thing holding her together.

Eve glanced at her, then looked away, annoyed at the wave of guilt washing over her again. She didn’t want to feel responsible for this girl. She didn’t even know her name.

But as she scanned the store for supplies, her eyes kept drifting back. The girl sat there, trembling, tears streaking her dirty face. She looked so lost, so small. And for the first time in a long time, Eve felt something she hadn’t let herself feel in years.

Pity.

It pissed her off.

Eve shoved a hand into her pocket, pulling out the crumpled protein bar. She tossed it at the girl, the wrapper hitting her square in the chest.

“Eat that,” Eve said gruffly. “You’re no good to anyone if you pass out.”

The girl looked up, surprised, but she didn’t say anything. She peeled the wrapper open with shaking hands and took a small bite, her eyes darting nervously toward Eve like she was afraid the bar might be snatched away.

Eve sighed and turned her attention to the store’s shelves, most of which had already been looted. There wasn’t much left—some expired cans, a box of stale crackers, and a bottle of warm soda.

She stuffed what she could into her bag, then glanced back at the girl.

“What’s your name?” Eve asked, surprising herself. She hadn’t meant to ask. She didn’t want to know.

The girl looked up at Eve with wide, uncertain eyes. “Ash,” she said softly. “My name is Ash.”

Eve didn’t respond immediately, her eyes already scanning the dim aisles of the convenience store. Shadows stretched long and thin as the sun dipped lower on the horizon, casting the broken shelves and scattered debris into darker corners.

“Great,” Eve muttered. “Stay put and keep quiet.”

Ash blinked. “Where are you going?”

“Looking for anything useful.” Eve slung her bat over her shoulder and moved deeper into the store, not bothering to look back. If Ash wanted to tag along, fine. If not, it didn’t change her plan.

The store was a mess. Broken glass crunched under her boots, and most of the shelves had already been picked clean. Eve crouched low, rifling through an overturned cart. A single bottle of water rolled out from underneath it. She snatched it up, shook it—half full—and shoved it into her cargo pocket.

A few aisles over, she found a torn box of protein bars, only two left inside. Better than nothing. She shoved them into her bag, scanning for anything else. A faint sound outside—a groan, slow and guttural—made her tense. They didn’t have long before the stragglers outside grew bold enough to wander in.

“Come on, come on,” she muttered to herself, pushing aside a pile of debris near the counter. Her fingers brushed metal, and she pulled out a small hand mirror. Useless. She tossed it aside and turned her attention to the drawers beneath the register. Most were empty, but one held a dusty first-aid kit. The latch was broken, and it looked old enough to have been forgotten, but it was still sealed. She threw it into her bag.

Behind her, Ash hovered near the entrance of the store, clutching her hammer tightly.

“Find anything?” the girl asked hesitantly.

“Barely.” Eve sighed and adjusted her bag, glancing out the front windows. The shadows outside had deepened into full-blown dusk, and the sound of groaning was growing louder. She knew what that meant.

“We’re out of time,” Eve said sharply. “Let’s go.”

“Go where?” Ash asked, her voice wavering.

Eve didn’t answer. She spotted a door at the back of the store marked “Employee Restroom” and made a beeline for it. The knob turned easily, and when she opened it, she was relieved to find it was small but intact. She stepped inside, testing the lock from the inside. It clicked firmly into place.

“This’ll do for the night,” Eve said, turning to Ash. “Get in.”

Ash hesitated, her grip tightening on the hammer. “In there? Both of us?”

Eve rolled her eyes. “Unless you’d rather take your chances with the dead outside.”

Ash didn’t argue, stepping into the cramped space. Eve followed and locked the door behind them, her hand lingering on the knob as if she didn’t fully trust it to hold.

The bathroom was tiny, with barely enough room for the two of them to sit without their knees brushing. Eve dropped her bag in the corner, leaning her bat against the wall as she scanned the room for anything else. Nothing but a cracked mirror and an empty soap dispenser.

“We’ll stay here tonight,” Eve said flatly. “When the horde passes, we go our separate ways.”

Ash’s face fell, but she nodded. “Okay.”

Eve sat down heavily, her back against the wall, arms resting over her knees. She glanced at Ash, who had sunk into the opposite corner, still clutching the hammer like it was her lifeline.

“Get some sleep,” Eve muttered, closing her eyes.

Ash shifted, leaning her head back against the wall. “You too.”

Eve didn’t respond. She wasn’t planning to sleep—not really. Not when the world outside was still hungry.