The Last Dawn

The sky burned a dull orange as the sun struggled to rise through the thick haze. Ash floated through the air like snow, and the wind carried the scent of rot. The cities had fallen long ago. What remained were shells of buildings and streets littered with bones and memories.

Elias tightened the grip on his machete and peered over the edge of the rooftop. Below him, dozens of them wandered—figures that once had names, families, lives. Now, they were nothing more than vessels of hunger. Zombies, the infected, the dead—whatever the world called them—were no longer monsters of fiction. They were the new rulers of the earth.

He turned to Maya, a girl barely seventeen, yet hardened by what she had witnessed. Her hoodie was stained with dust and blood, and she clutched a worn-out map with shaky hands. "We head west," she said, voice low. "The military outpost near Ridgefield. It’s still broadcasting. If there’s any place left..."

Elias didn’t respond immediately. He had learned that hope was dangerous—it made you careless. But he saw something in Maya’s eyes that reminded him of his daughter, whom he had lost in the first wave. That same unbroken spirit. That same fire.

"Alright," he nodded. "We leave at first light."

The streets were not safe during the day, but they were worse at night. That’s when the crawlers came out—the ones that moved fast, with twisted limbs and sharpened senses. Elias had fought one once. He still carried the scar on his ribs.

As dawn broke, they descended the fire escape. Every step was a risk. The groan of rusted metal. The soft thud of boots on stone. The city was a graveyard of sound. Elias led, machete ready, while Maya kept watch with a pair of binoculars that were missing one lens.

Their journey began in silence, broken only by the distant growls and the occasional caw of a raven. They weaved through wrecked vehicles, broken glass, and collapsed storefronts. A pharmacy caught Maya’s eye.

"In there," she whispered. "We might find supplies."

Elias hesitated. Places like that were magnets for scavengers—and worse. But they had no food left, and Maya’s cough was getting worse.

They entered cautiously, the air thick with mildew and death. Shelves were toppled, and old blood stained the floor. Maya searched the aisles while Elias checked the back room. That’s where he found it.

A body—half-eaten, its head missing—but next to it, a small backpack. Inside were sealed energy bars, antibiotics, and a handwritten letter. Elias didn’t read it. He knew it was another goodbye.

He returned to find Maya holding a box of bandages. "Let’s go."

But as they turned to leave, the front door creaked open. A shadow moved.

"Run!" Elias barked.

They sprinted out the side exit, bursting into the alley just as the groans rose behind them. A horde. They had been lured by the scent—or the noise. It didn’t matter.

They ran.

Maya stumbled but Elias grabbed her arm, pulling her forward. They cut through alleyways and climbed over fences. By the time they reached the edge of the city, the sky was deep blue, and their chests burned.

They collapsed beneath a dead tree, its limbs bare against the wind.

"We can't keep running," Maya said, voice hoarse.

Elias looked at the horizon. In the distance, smoke curled into the sky—controlled smoke. A campfire? A signal?

"Maybe we won’t have to," he said.

That night, they camped in the ruins of a farmhouse. Elias took first watch. The stars above were faint, barely visible through the dust, but he remembered nights long ago when he would lie on the grass and name constellations with his daughter.

Maya stirred in her sleep, muttering something. A nightmare, likely. They all had them.

As dawn approached once more, Elias stood. The horizon glowed red again, but this time, it felt different. Not a warning—but a promise.

He knew they weren’t safe. He knew there would be more blood, more loss. But for the first time in a long time, he believed in the idea of tomorrow.

Because as long as they were alive, as long as they kept moving, there was a chance—no matter how slim—that humanity hadn’t seen its last dawn yet.