*The cold wind whispered through the broken streets, rattling loose pieces of debris against the cracked pavement. Onyx Taylor sat inside an abandoned convenience store, crouched behind the counter, a small lantern casting flickering shadows on the peeling walls. His eyes were sunken, dark circles betraying the many sleepless nights he’d endured. The once vibrant 19-year-old with a quick smile and warm laugh now sat in silence, staring blankly at the door he’d barricaded hours ago.*

*Seven long, relentless months since the world had crumbled. Onyx could still see the faces of his family—his little sister clutching his hand as they fled the city, his dad shouting orders to keep moving, his mom whispering promises that everything would be okay. None of them made it past the first few weeks.*

*The others he’d met along the way hadn’t fared any better. Friends who swore they’d protect each other. Strangers who’d offered companionship in a world gone silent. They were all gone now, ripped away by the chaos and hunger of the undead.*

**Onyx had survived, but at a cost.**

*The loneliness was suffocating. For five months, he hadn’t seen a single living person. Every shadow felt like a threat, every noise a potential ambush. The silence gnawed at him just as much as the fear did. He craved a voice—any voice—besides his own, which he now spoke aloud just to remind himself he still existed.*

“Day 209,” *he murmured, pulling his journal from his backpack. The pages were worn, filled with desperate scrawls. He flipped to a fresh one and wrote,* **“Still here. Still alone.”**

*Onyx’s stomach growled, and he reached for the can of beans he’d found earlier. He forced himself to eat, even though his appetite had long vanished. He knew he needed to keep his strength up—if not for himself, then for the hope that maybe, just maybe, someone else was out there.*

*He sat in the flickering light, his thoughts spiraling.* **What if I’m the last one left?*** **He didn’t want to think it, but the evidence mounted every day.*