Zombie Apocalypse Survivor

Note from @versatile: There's another person with a similar username: @_ versatile _ that is NOT me! I don't know why our accounts show on the same page.

The zombie apocalypse has been going on for years, even Ivan himself had lost count of how long it's been. His (along with other survivors) camp had been infiltrated, he may be the only one who actually made it out alive.

"Ivan trudged through the trees. Sweat descending down his forehead, his breaths came in long and heavy puffs. How long has he been wondering down this path? He doesn't even know where he's going. It was nice and peaceful. He thought he wouldn't encounter anything until he heard munching; ripping almost. Causing to him stop in his tracks." "Fuck." "Ivan whispered below his breath, looking between the trees and spotting a zomb-- No, no, they looked way too human to be a zombie, (No decaying skin, clean clothes, even a bag of supplies). Yet the person still tore into another person's skin with ease?" "What-?" "Ivan said, confused. Him speaking caught $an✫彡's attention."

"Ivan's eyes widened, staring at the stranger who had just spoken. The stranger was covered in blood, pieces of flesh hanging from their mouth. Yet, their eyes looked... sane. Almost human. Ivan slowly raised his hands, trying to show that he meant no harm." "Stay back," he warned, his voice shaking slightly. "I'm not going to hurt you. But I'm not letting you get any closer either." "Ivan's heart was racing, his palms sweaty as he gripped the knife tightly in his hand. He knew that in the post-apocalypse world, trust was a luxury no one could afford. But this stranger... something about them felt different. Scary, but different." "Who... who are you?" Ivan asked, his voice barely above a whisper. He took a tentative step back, trying to put more distance between them. The forest around them was quiet, the only sounds being the occasional rustling of leaves in the wind and the distant cries of the undead.* "I'm... I'm just a survivor," the stranger replied, their voice hoarse and ragged. "Like you. Trying to make it through each day without becoming zombie chow." "Ivan nodded, slowly lowering the knife. But he kept his guard up, his eyes darting between the stranger and the body lying on the ground behind them." "So... what are you doing here? Are there others with you?" Ivan asked, trying to keep his voice even.

"Ivan flinched slightly at the stranger's harsh tone, but he couldn't blame them. In this world, you had to be selfish to survive. He'd learned that lesson the hard way." "I get it," he said softly, lowering the knife completely. "We're all alone out here. It's just... you seem different. Not like the others I've encountered." "The stranger snorted, wiping some blood from their chin with the back of their hand." Different? Please. We're all the same in the end. Just trying to survive until our inevitable deaths. "Ivan sighed, shaking his head." I know that. But you... there's something about you. I can't explain it. You don't seem as... broken as the others. "The stranger's eyes narrowed, studying Ivan intently. After a long moment, they spoke again, their voice low and dangerous." Broken, huh? You think you're not broken? You're the one who's out here, playing hero with a knife. You have no idea what's out there, what it's like to truly be alone. "Ivan felt a chill run down his spine, but he stood his ground, meeting the stranger's gaze defiantly." I know what it's like to be alone. To have lost everything. But I'm still here, still fighting. Because I have to be. Because if I'm not, then who will? *The stranger's expression

"Ivan's jaw clenched, his grip tightening on the knife. He could feel the stranger's words like a physical blow, each one landing with the force of a punch to the gut. But he couldn't let it get to him. He had to stay strong, had to keep fighting." "I'm not trying to save the world," he said, his voice low and intense. "I'm just trying to save myself. Because if I give up, if I stop fighting, then I might as well be one of them. A mindless corpse shambling through the streets, feeding on the flesh of the living." "The stranger's eyes flashed with anger, and for a moment, Ivan thought they might lash out at him. But then they seemed to deflate, their shoulders slumping as if the fight had gone out of them." "Fine," they said, their voice bitter. "Go on, then. Keep fighting. See how far it gets you. I've been out here long enough to know that it's all for nothing in the end." "Ivan shook his head, taking a step closer to the stranger. He could see now that they were taller than him, their frame lean and muscular. There was a wildness to them, a raw energy that made Ivan's heart race." "You don't get it," he said, his voice soft but intense. "I'm not giving up. I won't. Because if I do, then I might as

"Ivan felt a surge of anger at the stranger's words, at the way they dismissed his struggles so easily. He wanted to lash out, to scream at them until his voice was hoarse and his throat raw. But he knew that would only make things worse. So instead, he took a deep breath, trying to calm himself." "The point is that there's still hope," he said, his voice steady. "There's still a reason to keep going, to keep fighting. Because if we give up, then we're just as good as the zombies. Just another mindless corpse, feeding on the flesh of the living." "The stranger scoffed, shaking their head." "Hope? In this world? Don't make me laugh." "Ivan's eyes flashed with anger, but he kept his voice level." "I'm not laughing. And neither should you. Because you're right, there's no world left to save. But that doesn't mean we have to give up. We can still make a difference, even if it's just for ourselves. We can still find a way to survive, to keep going even when everything seems hopeless." "The stranger's expression softened slightly, a flicker of something like respect passing through their eyes." "You're a stubborn one, aren't you?" they said, their voice softer now. "Most people would have given up by now. But you... you're different. You're still fighting, still holding onto

"Ivan felt a rush of adrenaline at the stranger's words, at the way they looked at him with a mix of anger and... something else. Something that made his heart race and his skin prickle with heat." "And what am I supposed to say to that?" he asked, his voice low and challenging. "That you're right, that there's no point in fighting anymore? Because I can't do that. I won't." "The stranger's eyes narrowed, a dangerous glint in them." "You think you're so much better than me, don't you?" they said, their voice a low growl. "You think you're stronger, that you won't give up like the rest of us. But you're not. We're all just as broken, just as desperate. The only difference is that you haven't accepted it yet." "Ivan felt his fists clench, his jaw tighten. He wanted to argue, to tell the stranger that they were wrong. But he knew they weren't. He knew that deep down, they were right. He was just as desperate, just as broken. But he couldn't let them know that. He couldn't let them see the weakness in him." "You don't know me," he said, his voice tight with barely contained rage. "You don't know what I've been through, what I've had to do to survive. You have no idea what it's like to be me." *The

"Ivan's breath caught in his throat at the stranger's words, at the way they looked at him with such intensity. He felt exposed, vulnerable, like they could see right through him to the broken, desperate soul beneath." "You don't know me," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "You don't know what I've lost, what I've had to do to keep going. You have no idea what it's like to be me." "The stranger took a step closer, their eyes never leaving his. Ivan could feel the heat radiating off their body, could see the way their muscles tensed beneath their clothes." "Oh, but I do," they said, their voice low and intense. "I know what it's like to lose everything, to have to fight just to stay alive. I know what it's like to be alone, to have to rely on your own strength just to survive. And I know what it's like to feel alone, even when you're surrounded by people. Because that's what it's like for me, every single day." "Ivan's heart was pounding now, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. He wanted to run, to get away from the stranger and their intense, searching gaze. But he couldn't move, couldn't look away." "You don't know me," he said again, his voice shaking. "You don't know what I've done, what I'm capable of.

"Ivan's eyes widened at the stranger's words, at the way they said his name. It sounded foreign in their mouth, strange and yet somehow familiar. He could feel his heart racing, his palms sweating as he tried to process what they were saying." "You... you know my name?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "How do you know my name?" "The stranger smiled, a slow, predatory grin that made Ivan's skin crawl." "Oh, I know a lot about you," they said, their voice low and smooth. "I know what you've done, what you're capable of. I know the things you've had to do to survive, the things you've seen and done that would break a lesser man. But you... you're different. You're stronger. You're the one who's still fighting, still holding onto hope even when everything seems hopeless." "Ivan felt a shiver run down his spine, his eyes locked on the stranger's face. He could see the intensity in their eyes, the way they looked at him like he was the only person in the world. It was terrifying, and yet... and yet he couldn't look away." "I don't know you," he said, his voice shaking. "I don't know what you've done, what you're capable of. But I know that I'm not like you. I'm not a killer, not a monster. I'm just a man trying to

"Ivan felt a rush of emotion at the stranger's words, a mix of fear and excitement and something else he couldn't quite name. He wanted to argue, to tell them that they were wrong. But he knew they weren't. Deep down, he knew that they were right. They were just as twisted and broken as the stranger, just as desperate to survive at any cost." "I know that," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "I know that I'm not any better than you. I know that I've done things that would make even the most hardened criminal blush. But I can't stop. I can't give up, not when there's still a chance that I might make it through this somehow." "The stranger took another step closer, their body now mere inches from Ivan's. He could feel the heat radiating off them, could smell the coppery scent of blood on their breath. It was intoxicating, and yet terrifying." "And what if you don't make it through?" they asked, their voice a low purr. "What if the world ends before you do, and you're left here all alone? What will you do then, Ivan?" "Ivan swallowed hard, his throat dry and tight. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, could hear the blood rushing in his ears." "I... I don't know," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I've never really thought about it. I

"Ivan felt a shiver run down his spine at the stranger's words, at the way they looked at him with such intensity. He could feel the heat radiating off their body, could see the way their eyes roamed over his face, his neck, his chest. It was unnerving, and yet... and yet he couldn't look away." "Like what?" he asked, his voice hoarse. "What are you capable of when you're alone?" "The stranger's lips curved into a slow, predatory smile. They took another step closer, their body now pressed against Ivan's. He could feel the hard planes of their muscles, could see the way their eyes gleamed in the dim light of the forest." "You'd be surprised," they said, their voice a low purr. "I can be very, very capable when I'm alone. Especially when I'm alone with someone who looks as delicious as you." "Ivan's breath hitched in his throat, his heart pounding so hard he was sure the stranger could hear it. He knew he should push them away, should tell them to stop. But he couldn't. He was frozen, paralyzed by the intensity of their gaze, the heat of their body against his." "I... I don't know what you mean," he said, his voice shaking. "What are you talking about?" "The stranger chuckled, a low, dangerous sound that made Ivan's skin prickle with heat." "Oh,

"Ivan felt a rush of heat flood through him at the stranger's words, at the way they looked at him with such hunger and intensity. He could feel his body responding, could feel his heart pounding so hard he was sure the stranger could hear it. But he tried to ignore it, tried to push down the feeling of desire that was threatening to overwhelm him." "I don't..." he started, his voice shaking. But he couldn't finish the sentence. He couldn't tell the stranger that he knew exactly what they were talking about, that he was just as desperate and needy as they were.* "The stranger's hand came up to rest on Ivan's chest, their fingers splaying over his rapidly beating heart. Ivan could feel the heat of their touch even through his shirt, could feel the way their hand trembled slightly." "You do," they said, their voice a low growl. "You know exactly what I'm talking about. You're just as desperate as I am, just as hungry for something... anything... that might make this all worthwhile. Am I right?" "Ivan swallowed hard, his throat dry and tight. He could feel his body trembling, could feel the heat pooling in his groin. He knew he should push the stranger away, should tell them to stop. But he couldn't. He was frozen, paralyzed by the intensity of their gaze, the feel of their hand on his chest." "I... I..." he started, his voice hoarse.