Aiden stood in the middle of the ruined street, his blade dripping blood, surrounded by chaos.
Screams echoed between crumbling buildings. Pedestrians sprinted for cover. Blood pooled along the sidewalk, and the first swarm of undead surged forward like a tide of decay. Aiden didn't flinch.
He walked into it.
One step. Then another. Calm and precise.
A zombie in a business suit lunged at him, mouth wide. Aiden shifted his weight, stepped inside the creature's attack, and brought his blade down in a smooth, arcing slash. The head split clean through.
The next zombie was faster but Aiden had seen faster.
A twist. A thrust. A backstep.
Steel hit skull.
The creature dropped.
Behind him, his old boss—Dennis—cowered behind a parked scooter. His face pale, shirt soaked in sweat. "A-Aiden?! What the hell is this?!"
Aiden didn't bother looking back. "The apocalypse," he muttered.
He counted the infected pouring in from the subway—too many. Way too many. This wasn't right.
The outbreak wasn't supposed to happen yet. It was still six months away. But here it was—early, loud, and hungry.
Something had gone wrong with the timeline.
He spun on his heel, prepared to fall back to his shelter. But then someone grabbed his sleeve.
His hand shot to his knife, but he paused as he met the girl's eyes.
Ellie.
Short black hair. Familiar face. He searched his memory, and a faint flash came to him—she used to work in the same office.
"Aiden," she gasped. "It's me. Ellie! Please… help me get home!"
She wasn't part of the plan. She wasn't anyone special. But something in her eyes reminded him of people he used to care about.
After a moment, he sighed. "Fine. But listen—if you freeze up, I will leave you behind."
"What?!" she blinked.
He handed her a small blade. "Go for the back of the head, the temple, or right between the eyes. If you get grabbed, scream once. Only once."
Ellie clutched the knife tightly and nodded, teeth clenched.
They moved through alleys as the street fell into chaos. Aiden led with efficient, almost surgical precision. Every turn calculated and every step practiced.
Ellie stumbled once and scraped her knee. He didn't stop.
Stopping was death.
When they reached the block where Aiden's apartment tower stood, another wave of zombies blocked the path.
He stretched his neck. "Stay close."
And then he was in motion.
Aiden slipped into the crowd of corpses like a ghost among cattle. His blade hummed through the air. One stroke to the neck. Another across the jaw. A pivot, an elbow to a rotted skull. His movements were brutal, yet beautiful—deadly and controlled.
Ellie tried to keep up, panic in her breath. "There are too many—"
Then she slipped.
A zombie pounced, pinning her to the pavement. She screamed.
Aiden glanced over. The blood. The teeth. The screaming. And then he looked away.
He had warned her.
But Ellie remembered his words. "Temple… neck…"
She shoved the knife into the zombie's head with all her strength. It shuddered—then slumped.
Her hands trembled, and her eyes welled up, but she pushed herself up off the ground and looked toward him.
Aiden was still fighting. Still cutting down the infected like it was muscle memory.
She stared in awe. "He's… a monster."
After clearing the rest of the horde, Aiden glanced back at her. "Still alive?"
Ellie nodded shakily.
"Good," he said, already walking.
They made it to the tower. Aiden punched in the access code and checked the entry traps. Everything was untouched.
His safehouse stood just as he left it—fortified windows, metal-reinforced doors, blackout curtains, and three months' worth of supplies.
Ellie stepped inside and blinked. "You live here?"
"I do now."
Aiden peeled off his blood-streaked coat and tossed it onto a bench. He pulled a towel from the rack and looked at her. "Don't touch anything."
She crossed her arms. "Seriously? You're not even gonna ask if I'm okay?"
He paused. "Are you ok?"
"…You're insane."
He smirked and disappeared into the bathroom.
Twenty minutes later, Aiden stepped out in fresh clothes, steam rolling from the room behind him. His skin glistened, his expression was unreadable.
"Let me see it," he said.
Ellie blinked. "See what?"
"Your shoulder. Where the zombie tackled you."
"I-it's fine."
"Let me check. If it broke the skin, you're infected. And I'm not babysitting a ticking corpse."
Reluctantly, she slipped the torn fabric down her arm, revealing the bruise. No puncture.
Aiden examined it closely. "You got lucky."
"Thank God…"
"There's no such thing as luck," he muttered.
She looked at him differently now—less like a lunatic, more like a survivor. Someone hardened by something far worse than today.
"Do you have family?" she asked quietly.
He froze.
The image came unbidden: a smiling woman, a park bench, the warmth of a hand in his.
"No," he said flatly. "Not anymore."
Ellie swallowed. "Then… are you going to leave me out there?"
Aiden turned to the window. "You're on your own. But I'll walk you a few blocks. After that, you survive or you don't."
She nodded slowly.
As she stepped toward the door, he gave her one last piece of advice.
"Avoid large camps. Anything over twenty people draws the horde. It's called a zombie wave. You don't want to see one."
"…Thanks. For helping."
"I didn't."
She left into the dusk.
Alone again, Aiden returned to his weapons bench, unsheathed his blade, and began to clean it with practiced hands.
The timeline was broken.
The apocalypse had started early.
He still had time—but it's not enough.
And next time… he wouldn't fight alone.