Dust clung to Ryan's eyelashes as he stumbled through the narrow alley, lungs burning with every breath. The collapse behind him still echoed in his skull — the roar of concrete giving way, the screams of the group, Hunter's voice cracking as he called his name. He forced himself not to look back. There was nothing behind him except rubble and the dead.
He pressed a hand against the wall to steady himself. The bricks were warm, vibrating faintly from the aftershocks of the collapse. His ears rang. His heartbeat drowned out everything else.
"Damn... why can't shit just stay normal for a damn hour?!" He yelled at no one, he was trying to calm himself as his adrenalin wore off, he grunts in frustration and leans against a nearby wall. He ran a hand through his greasy messy hair, trying to pull his thoughts together.
His breath hitched, not from exhaustion this time, but from the sudden, sharp realization that he was alone. Truly alone. The alley swallowed his words, throwing them back at him in thin, mocking echoes.
He dragged his hand down his face, smearing dust across his cheek. "Get it together," he muttered. "They are alive. They must be."
A metallic clatter snapped his head up.
Ryan thought it was just another aftershock, another piece of the dying city giving out. But then the ground trembled, deeper this time, a groan rolling through the alley walls like the whole block was exhaling its last breath.
He looked up.
Cracks spiderwebbed across the building beside him, dust drifting down in lazy spirals. The structure leaned just a little too far, bricks shifting, mortar crumbling. It was not falling yet… but it was going.
"Shit—"
He did not wait. He bolted into a sprint, his legs taking him wherever was safe… or if there even was somewhere safe.
The alley twisted sharply, then again, turning into a maze of half‑collapsed storefronts and broken fire escapes. Every corner looked the same — narrow, dark, suffocating. His boots splashed through puddles of ash‑mud, his breath ragged in his ears.
Behind him, the building finally surrendered.
A deep, grinding roar tore through the air as the upper floors collapsed inward. The sound rolled down the alley like thunder — and with it came something worse.
The walkers heard it.
He did not realize it at first. He was too focused on running, on staying ahead of the next falling wall. But then, beneath the ringing in his ears, he caught it:
A slow, dragging chorus. Soft at first. Growing. Getting closer.
His stomach dropped.
"No, no, no—"
He pushed harder, rounding another corner — and that is when it happened.
A chunk of concrete, loosened by the collapse, bounced off a rusted fire escape above him. It ricocheted once, twice — then slammed into his leg.
"Fuck—!"
Warmth spread down his leg a coppery smell filled his lungs, his leg throbbed sharp pain went through him… he glances down his pant leg torn. Blood. Blood seeped through the pant leg, coating his pale skin and ground, he cursed to himself.
And the walkers smelled it. Their pace changed instantly — the slow shuffle turning into something hungrier, faster. More of them answered the call, their moans and screams echoing from the opposite end of the alley trash cans fell, glass bottles, paper. Trash bags fell, trash spilling out a horrid smell, assaulted his nose.
"Fuck... I Dunno what smells worse the undead or someone's 2-year-old garbage." he plugged his nose and drag himself to a slightly closed in area he cursed to himself, annoyed, angry...
Ryan's pulse spiked and he realized that he was boxed in. Walkers behind him. Walkers ahead of him. The maze tightens around him like a trap. He looks around for a way out and he notices up ahead. a fire truck? A flicker of hope went through his mind, he ran to the abandoned vehicle luckily the ladder was lifted enough to where he could see. He hurries to the back of the fire truck, the steps still on one side, one looked as if it were about to fall.
He grabs the handlebars and lifts his injured leg to step up first pain sparked through his leg, he kept stepping until he was on top of the vehicle, he noticed a body laying limp a firefighter. He hesitated before going to the half-extended ladder he started to climb when something latched at his leg. He let out a yelp of surprise he looks back; the limp body was now moving, the zombies face was bloody and ripped it let out a groan before trying to bite, Ryan grunted and kicked at the zombie's face, his boot connecting with the nose, making a crunching noise. He kept kicking until the zombie let loose it and let out an angry yell.
He climbed up the ladder, he got up enough to where he could see around the fallen buildings, he noticed an advantage point in between the rubble, he looked down he saw a platform.
Not part of the original building. More like a chunk of flooring that had fallen and wedged itself between two broken beams. It hung there at an awkward angle, suspended but not stable enough to stand on. Dust drifted off the edges every time the wind pushed through the ruins.
Ryan squints. If he could try to get to that platform, he would have a clear view of the street below… even a path back to the others, but it would be risky. He honestly was not in the mood to get killed.
Ryan knew one thing though, he was stuck, a damn zombie right below him and more trying to climb onto the vehicle, he was cursing to himself, he reached for his gun. out, he found out he had another magazine in his jacket but well. There are barely any shells in there.
"Fuck man. just my damn stupid luck huh..?" he loads the gun and cocks it, he aims and shoots the zombie closest, which was the one laying down on the end of the ladder,, the shot rang out the walkers groaned and reached up, none could get the him, but they were trying.
The ladder creaks "mother fucker!" he snapped and sighed the ladder was creaking and shifting just a bit, the zombies were trying to shove the fire truck over, they were undead, but they were smart... sometimes. He looks around for anything to grab onto. Nothing was near, he was going to die here, wasn't he? Her little brother would be without family. His mother is gone. Sister nowhere to be found so he suspects her gone... his father is still over in another state. He did not know how fast this virus spread...
He was praying, getting overwhelmed, he was only eighteen. He did not know what to do... He needed help! He felt the fire truck start to tip; this was it. Wasn't it...
Just as he lost all hope, he heard a distant rumble, a vehicle...? His head snapped up, he saw headlights in the distance, the lights cutting through the dust, a honk cut through the air, he saw the zombies stop and look. His eyes widened just a bit, just as he saw what looked like an ambulance it cut through corners, tires skidding through rubble, the tires made a crunching noise, and it skidded. The sound of the sirens flicker on, not fully functional, but loud enough to draw attention. The hordes react quickly and their bodies started to stumble towards the vehicle, Ryan could see a person in the ambulance. they had a uniform on, he couldn't tell if they were male or female, all he knew is that they was his savior, the tires screeched, as it came barreling towards the horde, close enough to distract not enough to get swarmed immediately, the walkers came at the ambulance in a stumble, as the ambulance kept the horde away from the fire truck.. Ryan saw a chance to get down.
He watched the ambulance accelerate, its wheels churning over the rubble. Then with a blink he noticed the vehicle mow down a line of walkers, the bodies flying into the air or getting run over. Ryan noticed the gap. maybe...
He slid down the ladder, hah. He's always wanted to do that. As he hit the topo of the fire truck, he noticed the ambulance driving away and he cursed... but then it made its way back. He heard the voice,
"MOVE, NOW!" the driver said through the grainy PA system, he jumped down wincing in pain. He really needed to get it checked. Then he started to run, walkers grabbing after him, the line of walkers that were mowed down were not moving so that was lucky. He ran along the line, trying not to get grabbed.
He saw the ambulance skid to a stop at the end of his exit, the passenger door swung open, "Get in!" a raspy but feminine voice called out, Ryan ran faster he leaped into the ambulance, shaken, and breathless, he slammed the door shut just as the walkers closed in... the ambulance took off, the tires screeching he leaned back against the seat, his chest falling with each quick breath. He barely glanced over when he heard her speak.
She was focused and stressed as it seemed like, "Names Amara, I'm an EMT."
"...Ryan."
"Are you hurt anywhere?" she asked, glancing over, Ryan let out a grunt and nodded.
"A gash on my calf. Nothing important." He grunted out and he looked out the window. ". How did you even get back in here?" He asked... he looked over at her.
"I have my ways, no need to ask questions, now, why were you back here hm." She smirked a bit and glances over at Ryan. A silent tension between them. Both were stressed. And tired.
Ryan went on to tell her what was going on, about the horde chasing, the group, everything.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
The group moved through the alleys, keeping off the open street as much as they could. Around them, buildings groaned and collapsed in the distance, each crash echoing through the narrow paths. Then, beneath the rumble of falling concrete, another sound cut through—an ambulance. Owen glanced back. His eyebrows knitted together.
The others heard it as well, Mateo gently pushed Owen forward. "We need to keep moving..." his usually deep voice softer.
Owen didn't respond but he kept moving, he glanced at everyone with them... Juno looked pissed and annoyed, Ezekial was trying to keep his wife and kids safe as they walked, he looked stressed but kept a stern look on his wrinkled face, Judy held a bundle in her arms. Jasmine walked beside her mother, max silent as ever just... walked.
The group moved in a sloppy line, their footsteps swallowed by dust and the low groan of the city settled into its own ruin. Every so often they would hear a groan from a nearby walker, they would stop and listen before continuing to walk.
Owen kept glancing back anyway, even though there was nothing behind them but the echo of their own movement and shuffles of the undead. His shoulders stayed tense like he expected to run.
Mateo nudged him again, "Eyes forward," he murmured, kind.
Owen swallowed hard and faced ahead, though his jaw stayed tight, his hands stayed clenched as his side,
The group kept moving, the air thick with dust and the weight of everything unspoken. No sirens. No engines. No approaching threat.
Just the city breathing its last around them.
Ezekial froze mid‑step, his arm shooting out like a barricade. The group halted behind him, boots crunching glass and gravel as the clearing opened before them — a wide, wrecked stretch of cracked asphalt littered with overturned cars, some still smoldering, others burned down to their frames.
A low breeze pushed smoke across the lot, carrying the sour smell of something older, something rotten.
Up ahead, in a drifting haze of dust and embers, stood a nursing home — squat, brick, and unsettlingly intact compared to the ruins around it. Windows were blown out, curtains fluttering like torn cloth. The front doors hung crooked, one barely clinging to its hinges, the other had fallen backwards into the eerie darkness within.
Ezekial's jaw tightened. He scanned the building with the same expression he uses all the time — calculation.
"Hold on," he whispered, barely moving his lips. "Something's not right here."
The others instinctively drew closer.
Juno uncrossed her arms, her irritation melting into something sharper. "You think squatters are in it?" she muttered.
"Or was," Ezekial said. His eyes didn't blink. "Recently."
Judy shifted the bundle in her arms. Jasmine stepped closer to her mother, eyes darting between the cars and the building. Max stood still as a statue, staring at the nursing home like it was staring back and calling for them.
Mateo leaned in toward Ezekial. "We need shelter," he murmured. "Even if it's occupied. we could try and speak to the occupants."
"Yeah," Owen added, voice low, "but if walkers are inside instead—" A loud thud came from within the nursing home, everyone froze. For one stretched second, the only sound was the wind dragging smoke across the lot and the distant groan of the ruined city. Then came a muffled voice from somewhere inside — low, deep, irritated, and human — followed by a sharp whisper of cursing that cut through the silence like a blade.
The group stiffened.
Ezekial slowly lowered his hand, fingers trembling just slightly. "Everyone stays here. you." He pointed at Owen. "Keep an eye out from behind us. Got it?" Ezekial demanded.
Owen gave a stiff nod, the group stayed behind as Ezekial held his shotgun close, he cocked it back, gravel and rubble crunched underneath his boots, his hands tight around his weapon. As he got closer, he saw a flash of movement from within.
His eyes narrowed slightly as he tried to get a better look. He passed and overturned car and grumbled a bit to himself. "No walker that's for sure."
"You. Come out now. I will not hesitate to shoot if necessary..." Ezekial says, yes. He knew the shot could ring out obviously and draw in walkers... so he just had to hope this person would listen.
He heard a deep rumble of a voice calling out, hesitant... scared?
He saw the figure start to emerge with their hands up. Tall. maybe 6'5.. He studied the figure with concentration.
The figure saw the gun and hesitated, their hands went up as they exited the building, a male, mid 20's.. in an orange jump suit, the top tied around his waist, with a white tee on. He looked scared... this male was all muscles and was scared of a 5'8 male. Hm. interesting.
"I don't mean any harm—look, I, uh..." The man's voice faltered as he stumbled over the words. Sweat gathered along his brow, cutting pale tracks through the dust and grim on his face. He kept his hands raised, shoulders tense, but he still would not meet Ezekial's eyes.
Ezekial lowered his gun, an annoyed look on his face, he pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. This was going to be a long conversation.