Day 2: Noah and Oliva runs into zombies

The cold morning air bit at Noah’s skin as he adjusted the straps of his backpack, ready to head out once more. The sun had barely risen, casting long shadows across the dilapidated yard in front of their home. Olivia was already standing by the door, her blonde hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, her face a mask of quiet determination.

“Ready?” Noah asked, his voice gruff as he met her gaze. She wore a faded coat layered over her torn wedding dress, her "new" boots worn and scuffed. She looked tired, but there was a quiet resolve in her expression that matched his own.

Olivia nodded, giving him a small, reassuring smile. “I am, though I hope things go as smoothly as yesterday.”

Noah grinned, though the gesture was strained. “Don't worry, I will protect you no matter what.”

She didn’t reply with a joke, as she normally would have. Instead, she tightened her grip on her hunting knife, her knuckles white against the handle. He could see it in her eyes—the same tension he felt in his gut. It was the silence before the storm, the knowledge that they were going out into a world that had become unfamiliar, a world where the smallest mistake could be their last.

Together, they made their way down the path that led from the estate to the heart of town, staying low, moving silently through the overgrown weeds and broken asphalt. Their breath puffed out in quick, misty clouds, blending with the gray of the morning. There were no cars, no sounds of life except for the occasional rustle of wind through the trees. It felt unnatural—the stillness.

As they neared the town, the skeletal remains of buildings loomed ahead, windows shattered, doors hanging on broken hinges. Noah’s instincts kicked in, his mind already sorting through the possible places to check. But it was Olivia who took the lead, her eyes scanning for danger, moving with a quiet confidence that made Noah’s chest tighten. They’d been doing this together for months now, but that didn’t make it any less dangerous.

They reached an old convenience store first, the windows boarded up but the back door ajar, a sliver of light visible inside. Noah’s gut twisted at the sight. He glanced at Olivia, who gave a quick nod, silently asking if it was safe.

“I’ll go first,” he whispered, moving toward the door and pushing it open just enough to slip inside. The smell of rot hit him immediately—a mix of stale air and something far worse. Something dead. He could hear the scurrying of rats, the low, guttural groan of a distant zombie. His hand tightened around the handle of his crowbar as he moved deeper into the store.

Olivia was right behind him, her movements quiet, her eyes flicking around, taking in everything at once. They moved through the aisles, careful not to make a sound, checking shelves and the back corners for anything useful. They found canned food—some of it expired, but still good enough to eat. It was enough to fill their packs, but Noah knew it wouldn’t last long.

Olivia stopped by the old fridge at the back, peering inside. She grimaced at the sight of spoiled food but froze when her hand brushed against a plastic bottle. She pulled it out and held it up to the light. “Water,” she murmured, her voice a soft relief in the otherwise tense silence. She tucked it into her bag.

Noah’s ears pricked at the sound of something in the distance. The faintest shuffle. He shot her a quick look, and she nodded, silent and alert. They didn’t have time to waste. He motioned toward the door, and they began moving toward the exit when a loud crash echoed from behind them.

“Shit,” Noah hissed, pulling Olivia into the shadows behind a nearby shelf. He pressed his back against the cold concrete, holding his breath as the shuffle of footsteps grew louder.

Two figures emerged from the aisles—slow, mindless, their blank eyes fixed on the hallway outside. Zombies. The groans were soft, but persistent. Noah’s pulse hammered in his ears. He could feel Olivia’s presence beside him, still and steady, waiting for the moment they would have to move.

The zombies shuffled closer, their ragged clothes swaying with each step. There was no way they could fight them without making noise—no way to avoid detection. He glanced at Olivia, her lips pressed tight. They needed to stay hidden.

[Food +2]