The sun was setting behind the wreckage of a once-thriving city, the sky a bruise of purples and reds. The air was thick with the acrid scent of decay, and the wind carried the faintest hum of distant fires.

She moved through the ruins, her boots crunching on the glass and debris that covered the pavement. The world was a shell of what it had been, but there were still things to scavenge—food, water, medicine, anything that could make surviving another day just a little bit easier. It was all she could do now, moving from place to place, taking what she could, and hoping that one day things would change.

Today, though, it felt different.

She had found an abandoned market, the shelves gutted, and the aisles lined with rotting fruit. Her stomach growled, but she knew better than to trust anything here. Still, she pushed forward, peering into darkened corners, her eyes scanning for any signs of life—or anything she could take with her.

Then she saw it.

A dog, sitting in the middle of the main aisle, its back to her. It looked like it had been there for days, maybe longer. Its fur was matted and dirtied, but not as bad as the other creatures she had seen since the Fall. The most unsettling thing, though, was its stillness. It was completely motionless, almost as if it were waiting for something.

What the hell? she thought, her hand inching toward the knife at her belt.

She knew the danger all too well.

The infection had spread fast, a virus that changed everything, twisting them into something unnatural. Anything could be infected—humans and animals. And once they were changed, they became violent, driven only by hunger and the urge to spread the plague.

Slowly, she took a step forward, careful to make no sound. Her eyes never left the dog. There was something wrong with it, she could feel it. She had seen the rotting corpses of humans—those were obvious. But the dog... it was too quiet.

Suddenly, it turned its head.

It blinked slowly, and for a moment, she thought it might be normal, just a stray, abandoned in the wreckage like so many others. But then its eyes locked onto hers, and she froze.

There was no warmth in them. Only hollow, lifeless blackness. It didn't move, didn't wag its tail in greeting or bark in defense. It just stared, unblinking, its head slightly cocked, like it was assessing her.

She took a step back, her pulse quickening. The dog’s tail began to wag slowly. At first, it was a gentle flicker, but as it watched her, the pace picked up. Faster. Faster.

Something’s wrong. This is no stray.

The dog leapt toward her, its eyes wide and unblinking, its mouth agape in a grotesque snarl, teeth sharp and yellowed. The stench of decay hit her like a physical blow, burning her nostrils.

She didn't wait. Without thinking, she pulled the knife from her belt and swung it forward with everything she had.

The dog recoiled, yelping in surprise, but then it came again, faster, angrier.

She stumbled backward, desperately trying to put distance between them. The knife clattered to the floor, but she was already reaching for another weapon—anything she could use to protect herself.

It’s too fast!

The dog lunged, snapping its jaws, and she felt a tug on her sleeve as it caught her arm. Her breath caught in her throat, panic rising as the creature tried to drag her down. She kicked out, landing a blow to its ribs, but it barely flinched. The thing was stronger than she expected, its muscles twitching with unnatural force.

She grabbed a broken piece of concrete from the ground and swung it at the dog’s head. It connected with a sickening crunch.

For a moment, everything went still.

Then the dog shook its head, letting out a low, growling hiss. It was still alive—still moving.

She was running out of time.

She grabbed a rusted pipe from the ground, gripping it tightly, her knuckles white with the effort. When the dog charged again, she swung it with all the force she could muster, hitting the creature square in the face.

The blow sent it flying back, crashing into the shelves with a loud crash. But even as it fell, the dog was up again, faster this time, moving like a blur. Its eyes were locked on her with unrelenting hunger.

No. Not again.

The thing was relentless.

She backed into a corner, her breath coming in desperate gasps, clutching the pipe like a lifeline. She swung it one more time, aiming for the dog’s skull, her hands trembling with fear and exhaustion.

This time, it worked.

The pipe cracked against the dog’s head with a sickening crunch, and the creature dropped to the ground, its body twitching. She stood over it, breathless, watching it writhe for a moment before it went still.

But she knew better than to relax.

She didn’t have time to mourn. She had made too much noise. She picked up the pipe again and continued her search, the sound of her footsteps echoing through the empty ruins, knowing that there was always more to face. T

The dog was just one more reminder. The end of the world had no mercy.

And neither did she.