The meal she placed in front of me looked amazing: a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with a sunny-side-up egg. Simple, but made with love. Out of all the plates, mine had the largest portion. Seeing that made my chest feel warm. It reminded me of my grandfather, who used to give me the best cuts of venison whenever we ate together.
"Thank you," I said quietly.
Her smile softened. "Don't mention it, honey." But her eyes glowed with happiness at my appreciation.
Ava clasped her hands and said a short prayer for the food. Then we began eating. The only sounds were the gentle clinks of spoons and the faint hiss of rain outside. Even though the house was cold and silent, sharing a meal together made it feel warm, like I belonged here. Like I was meant to be part of this little family.
After a moment, Ava spoke in a bright, cheerful tone. "Do you know what happened today? Our little Max called me Mom again! Some of his memory must be returning — isn't that wonderful?"
Both men's faces lit up. Maybe they were happy for me, or maybe they were just relieved to see Ava smiling again. For once, the gloom in the house had lifted.
"That's really wonderful, Ava," my father said, grinning.
"Yes, that's wonderful news, honey," Matthew added — still a bit drunk, but sincere.
Their happiness filled the room like warmth from a long-dead fire. But there was something I had to know, a question that had been burning in my mind since I woke up here.
I hesitated, then spoke. "I know I've lost my memories, but… can you tell me how old I am? Where are we? And what's happening out there? Maybe it'll help me remember."
The room fell silent. No one spoke for several seconds. Finally, my father sighed and looked at me.
"Well, Max… you're fourteen years old. When you were eight, you got cancer. The chemotherapy cured it — but it also made you lose your hair permanently."
He paused, his face tightening. "As for where we are… this is your grandmother's house, in Macon, Georgia."
He looked toward Ava and Matthew. They gave him small, hesitant nods, encouraging him to continue.
"As for what's happening…" He drew a deep breath. "Two months ago, everything changed. It started as rumors — people getting sick, acting strange. The government tried to hide it at first. But when the police and army started shooting at things that should've been dead — they couldn't hide it anymore."
He swallowed hard. "The CDC called it the Wildfire Virus. It's an airborne pathogen — one that reanimates the dead."
The words hung heavy in the air.
"When the news broke, people panicked," he continued quietly. "Stores were looted, roads jammed. The government ordered quarantines, and when people tried to flee… the police opened fire. Hospitals collapsed, the power grid failed, and one by one, the cities went dark. The military tried to hold the line, but they couldn't. The chain of command broke. The government fell apart. And then…"
He stared down at his half-empty bowl. "Then the world ended. Most of humanity turned into those things. At first, we thought the infection only spread through bites — but soon, even the unbitten started turning. That's when we realized… we're all infected. Every single one of us. When we die… we become them."
His words carried a grim finality that sent a chill through me.
The air in the room felt heavy and still. Even though I had expected this — after all, I knew this world — I couldn't stop the shiver crawling up my spine.
The apocalypse wasn't a story anymore.
It was real.
And I was living it.
"John, stop scaring the child!" Ava cried, snapping me out of my daze.
"Did I… go a little overboard?" my father asked, his expression apologetic as he looked at her.
Ava crossed her arms and nodded with a serious look.
Turning back to me, he sighed. "Sorry, kid. I didn't mean to frighten you. I just blurted out too much bad news at once. I should've been more careful."
I nodded quietly in acknowledgment.
"But don't be scared," he added, forcing a smile. "We're all here for you."
I smiled faintly and nodded again. Still, my hands were trembling under the table.
It's fun watching zombie apocalypse shows from the safety of your couch, maybe even imagining yourself surviving one with ease. I used to be one of those people. But imagination and reality… they're vastly different things.
Until now, I hadn't taken this situation seriously. But now, realization finally hit me — this wasn't a movie or a TV show. I was living in a world where I could die at any moment. The thought alone made my heartbeat race.
Then, I felt a warm hand rest gently on my shoulder.
I looked up — it was Ava. She had pulled her chair closer, her soft eyes filled with concern.
"It's okay to be scared," she said soothingly. "Even I'm scared. Everyone here is scared... But you know what's not scary? We're together — as a family. Don't be afraid, Max. We're here for you."
Her voice was calm and motherly, and somehow, it grounded me. I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself.
"I'm really a fucking idiot," my dad muttered under his breath. Unfortunately for him, my heightened hearing easily picked it up.
My uncle Matthew walked over, draping his arm around my shoulders. The strong smell of wine clung to him.
"Little Max," he said with a grin, "don't worry. Everyone's scared. Look at me — even your brave uncle is scared of your mother!"
Ava smacked his shoulder playfully. "Oh really? Do I look that scary to you, Matthew? Hm?"
Realizing his attempt to lighten the mood had backfired, he started panicking. "Of course not, honey! You're the love of my life — my only hope in this dark world! How could I be scared of you? You're… harmless! Like a fly!"
Ava narrowed her eyes. "So now I'm a filthy little fly that eats garbage?"
Matthew stammered helplessly, completely trapped by his own words.
I couldn't help it — I burst out laughing.
"Hahahaha!"
For the first time in this world, I laughed with all my heart. I had learned long ago that you never win an argument against a woman — the wisest thing to do is surrender gracefully and move on.
Seeing me laugh freely made all three of them smile gently.
So, I'd been tricked. But it wasn't a bad feeling. They truly cared about me. Seeing how much they worried, how hard they tried to make me feel safe… it made me realize how deeply they loved me.
"Laugh more often, Max," Ava said softly, her eyes glowing with warmth. "You look so cute when you do."
The room was quiet and dim. It was cold enough to be uncomfortable, yet my heart felt warm.
Then—
BANG! BANG!
A gunshot shattered the peaceful moment.
The sound came from the front door behind me.
Before anyone could react, another loud crash echoed through the house — the door being kicked open.
I spun around.
A man stood in the doorway, the lock blown apart by gunfire. Rain streamed off his heavy leather jacket, pooling at his boots as he stepped inside, each footfall echoing through the small house like a warning.
He raised his pistol.
Even from across the room, I could see the rage burning in his eyes — raw, unfiltered hatred that made the air feel heavier, sharper.
"Found you, motherfucker!" He shouted.