The al she placed in front of looked amazing: a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with a sunny-side-up egg. Simple, but made with love. Out of all the plates, mine had the largest portion. Seeing that made my chest feel warm. It reminded of my grandfather, who used to give the best cuts of venison whenever we ate together.
"Thank you," I said quietly.
Her smile softened. "Don't ntion it, honey." But her eyes glowed with happiness at my appreciation.
Ava clasped her hands and said a short prayer for the food. Then we began eating. The only sounds were the gentle clinks of spoons and the faint hiss of rain outside. Even though the house was cold and silent, sharing a al together made it feel warm, like I belonged here. Like I was ant to be part of this little family.
After a mont, Ava spoke in a bright, cheerful tone. "Do you know what happened today? Our little Max called Mom again! So of his mory must be returning — isn't that wonderful?"
Both n's faces lit up. Maybe they were happy for , or maybe they were just relieved to see Ava smiling again. For once, the gloom in the house had lifted.
"That's really wonderful, Ava," my father said, grinning.
"Yes, that's wonderful news, honey," Matthew added — still a bit drunk, but sincere.
Their happiness filled the room like warmth from a long-dead fire. But there was sothing I had to know, a question that had been burning in my mind since I woke up here.
I hesitated, then spoke. "I know I've lost my mories, but… can you tell how old I am? Where are we? And what's happening out there? Maybe it'll help rember."
The room fell silent. No one spoke for several seconds. Finally, my father sighed and looked at .
"Well, Max… you're fourteen years old. When you were eight, you got cancer. The chemotherapy cured it — but it also made you lose your hair permanently."
He paused, his face tightening. "As for where we are… this is your grandmother's house, in Macon, Georgia."
He looked toward Ava and Matthew. They gave him small, hesitant nods, encouraging him to continue.
"As for what's happening…" He drew a deep breath. "Two months ago, everything changed. It started as rumors — people getting sick, acting strange. The governnt tried to hide it at first. But when the police and army started shooting at things that should've been dead — they couldn't hide it anymore."
He swallowed hard. "The CDC called it the Wildfire Virus. It's an airborne pathogen — one that reanimates the dead."
The words hung heavy in the air.
"When the news broke, people panicked," he continued quietly. "Stores were looted, roads jamd. The governnt ordered quarantines, and when people tried to flee… the police opened fire. Hospitals collapsed, the power grid failed, and one by one, the cities went dark. The military tried to hold the line, but they couldn't. The chain of command broke. The governnt fell apart. And then…"
He stared down at his half-empty bowl. "Then the world ended. Most of humanity turned into those things. At first, we thought the infection only spread through bites — but soon, even the unbitten started turning. That's when we realized… we're all infected. Every single one of us. When we die… we beco them."
His words carried a grim finality that sent a chill through .
The air in the room felt heavy and still. Even though I had expected this — after all, I knew this world — I couldn't stop the shiver crawling up my spine.
The apocalypse wasn't a story anymore.
It was real.
And I was living it.
"John, stop scaring the child!" Ava cried, snapping out of my daze.
"Did I… go a little overboard?" my father asked, his expression apologetic as he looked at her.
Ava crossed her arms and nodded with a serious look.
Turning back to , he sighed. "Sorry, kid. I didn't an to frighten you. I just blurted out too much bad news at once. I should've been more careful."
I nodded quietly in acknowledgnt.
"But don't be scared," he added, forcing a smile. "We're all here for you."
I smiled faintly and nodded again. Still, my hands were trembling under the table.
It's fun watching zombie apocalypse shows from the safety of your couch, maybe even imagining yourself surviving one with ease. I used to be one of those people. But imagination and reality… they're vastly different things.
Until now, I hadn't taken this situation seriously. But now, realization finally hit — this wasn't a movie or a TV show. I was living in a world where I could die at any mont. The thought alone made my heartbeat race.
Then, I felt a warm hand rest gently on my shoulder.
I looked up — it was Ava. She had pulled her chair closer, her soft eyes filled with concern.
"It's okay to be scared," she said soothingly. "Even I'm scared. Everyone here is scared... But you know what's not scary? We're together — as a family. Don't be afraid, Max. We're here for you."
Her voice was calm and motherly, and sohow, it grounded . I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself.
"I'm really a fucking idiot," my dad muttered under his breath. Unfortunately for him, my heightened hearing easily picked it up.
My uncle Matthew walked over, draping his arm around my shoulders. The strong sll of wine clung to him.
"Little Max," he said with a grin, "don't worry. Everyone's scared. Look at — even your brave uncle is scared of your mother!"
Ava smacked his shoulder playfully. "Oh really? Do I look that scary to you, Matthew? Hm?"
Realizing his attempt to lighten the mood had backfired, he started panicking. "Of course not, honey! You're the love of my life — my only hope in this dark world! How could I be scared of you? You're… harmless! Like a fly!"
Ava narrowed her eyes. "So now I'm a filthy little fly that eats garbage?"
Matthew stamred helplessly, completely trapped by his own words.
I couldn't help it — I burst out laughing.
"Hahahaha!"
For the first ti in this world, I laughed with all my heart. I had learned long ago that you never win an argunt against a woman — the wisest thing to do is surrender gracefully and move on.
Seeing laugh freely made all three of them smile gently.
So, I'd been tricked. But it wasn't a bad feeling. They truly cared about . Seeing how much they worried, how hard they tried to make feel safe… it made realize how deeply they loved .
"Laugh more often, Max," Ava said softly, her eyes glowing with warmth. "You look so cute when you do."
The room was quiet and dim. It was cold enough to be uncomfortable, yet my heart felt warm.
Then—
BANG! BANG!
A gunshot shattered the peaceful mont.
The sound ca from the front door behind .
Before anyone could react, another loud crash echoed through the house — the door being kicked open.
I spun around.
A man stood in the doorway, the lock blown apart by gunfire. Rain stread off his heavy leather jacket, pooling at his boots as he stepped inside, each footfall echoing through the small house like a warning.
He raised his pistol.
Even from across the room, I could see the rage burning in his eyes — raw, unfiltered hatred that made the air feel heavier, sharper.
"Found you, motherfucker!" He shouted.
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