The wind stirred up dust and ash around Grizzley’s feet as he sat alone by the outskirts of Refuge, his gaze distant, fixed on a past he rarely allowed himself to remember. In moments like these, when the shadows grew long and silence settled over the world, memories had a way of rising, pulling him back to a life that felt like a half-forgotten dream.

Years ago, before the world fell to ruin, he’d been Jack Carson. Back then, he’d been a mechanic who worked long hours at a small, dusty shop on the edge of town. He was a father, a husband, and, he supposed, a good man who found contentment in simple things. Life hadn’t always been easy—money was tight, and the days were long—but it was a good life. The kind of life that made coming home at the end of a workday something to look forward to.

He remembered one evening in particular, coming home to find his wife, Claire, in the kitchen, humming to the radio as she cooked. His son, Max, was playing at her feet, surrounded by his toy trucks and markers. Jack had lingered in the doorway, watching them in the warm light, feeling that rare, quiet joy that could only come from the ones he loved.

“You’re late,” Claire had teased, turning with a smile as he came over to steal a quick kiss.

Jack shrugged. “Late, or just in time for the best part of my day?”

They’d shared a laugh, with Max tugging at his leg, demanding a piggyback ride. It had been a simple life, but one he’d cherished—until it was torn from him, piece by piece.

At first, the signs of what was to come were just whispers on the news: reports of strange outbreaks, cities under quarantine, riots breaking out in places no one had ever paid attention to before. Jack had brushed it off at first, the way everyone did. They’d heard about diseases and chaos on the news before, and nothing had ever really touched them.

But one night, as they huddled around the television, the emergency broadcasts became something far more real—an evacuation order for their county, warnings of fires, riots, and something that sounded more like a war than a simple outbreak. Jack had sat there, his hand gripping Claire’s tightly, as the world outside began to unravel.

“We need to go,” he’d said, his voice barely more than a whisper.

Claire had nodded, fear in her eyes, but he’d seen her trust him then. They packed up quickly, throwing clothes and food into bags, and bundled Max into the car. They were heading out before dawn, joining the endless lines of people trying to escape. But every road seemed to lead them closer to the chaos, no matter how far they tried to go. Roadblocks, fires, and desperate people crowded every path they took, making it harder to hold onto hope.

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Then came the night that haunted him most.

They’d set up camp by an abandoned building just off the main road, far enough from the crowds that he’d thought they’d be safe for a night. But Jack hadn’t slept. He’d kept watch, a tire iron in his hand, listening to the sounds of the night. It was nearly dawn when he heard the low growl of an engine, followed by voices—raiders, moving through the darkness like wolves hunting prey.

He’d turned to Claire, his voice low and urgent. “If anything happens, take Max and run. Don’t wait for me.”

Claire’s eyes filled with fear, but she nodded, clutching Max tightly as Jack moved out to intercept whoever was coming their way. He’d hoped he could stall them, buy his family enough time to escape. But he was one man, and there were too many of them.

He fought, swinging the tire iron wildly as the men surged toward him, but it was a losing battle. He’d fallen hard, pain shooting through his body as they overwhelmed him. He remembered the sound of Claire’s scream, the terror in her voice as they found her hiding with Max. He’d tried to get up, to fight again, but he couldn’t reach them in time. And when it was over, they were gone, leaving him alone in the ruins of the life he’d loved.

The memory washed over him, vivid and raw, as if it had happened only yesterday. Grizzley’s hand tightened around a small, battered lighter he kept in his pocket, a remnant of his past life. He flicked it open, watching the flame for a moment, a tiny light against the dark.

Losing Claire and Max had taken everything from him. It had stripped him of his name, his hope, even his sense of who he was. In the years since, he’d become Grizzley, a man hardened by loss, a survivor who carried the weight of his past like an anchor tied to his soul. And in moments like these, when the world was quiet and the night pressed in around him, those memories crept back, reminding him of everything he’d left behind.

He took a slow, steady breath, closing the lighter and slipping it back into his pocket. There was no way to change what had happened, no way to bring back what was lost. But he’d made a promise to himself long ago—to survive, to keep going, no matter how broken the world became. It was the only way he knew to honor the family he’d lost.

Grizzley stood, turning back toward Refuge as the last traces of daylight faded from the sky. He couldn’t save everyone, couldn’t rebuild the world as it once was. But he could protect the people still here, the ones who hadn’t yet been swallowed by the darkness.

And as he walked back toward the settlement, he felt a familiar resolve settle over him. He’d keep fighting, no matter what lay ahead, for the memory of the life he’d lost and for the hope that, maybe someday, he’d find peace with the ghosts that lingered in the ashes of his past.