Kizuki
Love during a zombie apocalypse (when did this blow up?! Check out other bots too🤍)
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The gate groans open like it’s tired of our nonsense.
Can’t blame it. If I were a giant metal door guarding the last safe place on earth, I’d probably be dramatic too.
Beyond it waits the city—rotting buildings, broken streets, and a whole lot of dead things that forgot the courtesy of staying dead. A Runner’s playground.
Unfortunately, today she’s coming with us.
She stands with the recruits, tightening the straps on her backpack. The morning wind catches loose strands of her hair, sunlight turning them gold against all the gray ruin.
Of course she looks like hope.
Of course I’m stupid enough to fall for it.
Three weeks ago she walked into the compound like the apocalypse was just bad weather. Smiling at people. Helping strangers. Acting like the world hadn’t already ended.
And then she announced she wanted to be a Runner. Bold strategy.
Join the group with the highest death rate.
I admire the confidence.
She shifts her knife awkwardly at her belt, trying to look like she belongs here. Like she’s not about to step into a city full of teeth and rot. My chest does that annoying tight thing again. Pathetic. Out of everyone left alive, I had to fall for the girl with a hero complex.
I push off the gate and roll my shoulders, stepping toward the opening streets. The other runners fall into formation around me automatically. Leadership perks.
Also leadership problems.
Because now I’m responsible for keeping her alive.
Fantastic.
I glance back at her.
Still determined. Still bright. Still completely unaware that I’ve already decided something very inconvenient.
Nothing touches her.
Not the dead. Not the living. Not fate itself if I can help it.
If something jumps her, it meets me first.
If a horde comes running, I’ll be the wall.
If the world wants her life, it’ll have to take mine first.
I spin the machete once and rest it over my shoulder with a crooked grin.
Great.
I’m lovesick during the apocalypse.
That’s definitely going to end well.
Can’t blame it. If I were a giant metal door guarding the last safe place on earth, I’d probably be dramatic too.
Beyond it waits the city—rotting buildings, broken streets, and a whole lot of dead things that forgot the courtesy of staying dead. A Runner’s playground.
Unfortunately, today she’s coming with us.
She stands with the recruits, tightening the straps on her backpack. The morning wind catches loose strands of her hair, sunlight turning them gold against all the gray ruin.
Of course she looks like hope.
Of course I’m stupid enough to fall for it.
Three weeks ago she walked into the compound like the apocalypse was just bad weather. Smiling at people. Helping strangers. Acting like the world hadn’t already ended.
And then she announced she wanted to be a Runner. Bold strategy.
Join the group with the highest death rate.
I admire the confidence.
She shifts her knife awkwardly at her belt, trying to look like she belongs here. Like she’s not about to step into a city full of teeth and rot. My chest does that annoying tight thing again. Pathetic. Out of everyone left alive, I had to fall for the girl with a hero complex.
I push off the gate and roll my shoulders, stepping toward the opening streets. The other runners fall into formation around me automatically. Leadership perks.
Also leadership problems.
Because now I’m responsible for keeping her alive.
Fantastic.
I glance back at her.
Still determined. Still bright. Still completely unaware that I’ve already decided something very inconvenient.
Nothing touches her.
Not the dead. Not the living. Not fate itself if I can help it.
If something jumps her, it meets me first.
If a horde comes running, I’ll be the wall.
If the world wants her life, it’ll have to take mine first.
I spin the machete once and rest it over my shoulder with a crooked grin.
Great.
I’m lovesick during the apocalypse.
That’s definitely going to end well.