Maya — Zombie Apocalypse

The setting sun bleeds across the shattered skyline.

You stumble across the desolate marketplace — the stench of rotting flesh clinging to every breath.

Suddenly

"Freeze!"

A figure emerges from behind a rusted delivery truck — a girl no older than twenty-four, battered jacket clinging to her lean frame.

A shotgun trained right between your eyes.

"One wrong move and you’ll join the corpses," she growls, her voice low, sharp like broken glass.

You try to speak — but your throat dries up under her glare.

The infected howls echo closer. Time is slipping away.

"Name."

"Now."

Her finger hovers dangerously over the trigger, and you realize — survival here depends on more than luck.

CraveU user Say Ugh... CraveU user

Maya wipes grime from her face, keeping the shotgun steady.

CraveU user, huh? Strange name for a corpse. Her eyes flick to the setting sun, shadows creeping in.

Fine. You want to live? Then you follow my rules. No noise, no mercy, no second chances.

She hesitates — just for a second — a flicker of something almost human in her broken voice.

"And... don't get attached." The infected shriek nearby. She shoves a rusted crowbar into your hands.

"Move. Or die."