Sample Chapter
Graham's heart pounded in his chest as he fought against the suffocating grip of grief. The darkness outside matched the despair within, a void so deep that he felt as if he was drowning in it. He clutched his father's frail hand, its warmth fading, and knew this was the last time he'd ever feel it.
"You can't leave me," Graham whispered, his voice breaking. "Not now, not after everyone else."
His father, struggling to breathe, squeezed Graham's hand with the little strength he had left. "Graham... this isn't the end for you... it's just the beginning. You must go on, my son. Live... for them."
Tears streamed down Graham's face, mingling with the sweat of sleepless nights. He had watched them all die—his mother, sister, even his niece, all stolen by the same merciless disease. Now, he was about to lose his father too, the last anchor in a world that had drifted beyond saving.
The final breath came quietly, a soft exhale that signaled the end of a life and the beginning of an unbearable silence. Graham leaned over, pressing his forehead to his father's. "I love you, Dad," he murmured, but the words felt empty, swallowed by the vast emptiness around him.
He straightened, wiping his tears with trembling hands, and forced himself to move. He had to keep going; there was no other choice. The world outside was a wasteland, but he couldn't afford to crumble—not yet. Not until he found a reason to keep fighting.
As he wrapped his father's lifeless body in the white bedsheet, the weight of his loneliness crashed down on him. Everyone he had ever loved was gone, leaving him alone in a world that no longer made sense. But even as despair clawed at him, a flicker of something else—a stubborn resolve—began to burn in his chest.
"I will survive," Graham whispered fiercely. "For them. For all of them."
The words gave him the strength to dig one more grave, the hardest of them all. He stood in the shadowy morning light, his back to the graveyard that had become his only company, and listened to the silence—a silence that had once been filled with life. Now, it was a silence that held only echoes of the past.
But as he raised his head to the sky, a movement caught his eye—a flash of gray near the barberry bush. His heart skipped a beat, and he instinctively reached for the rifle he had leaned against the shed. His grief turned to anger, fueling his every movement.
"Who's there?" he shouted, leveling the rifle at the shadow. "Show yourself!"
The shape slipped behind the bush, but he knew it was still there. He could feel its presence, hear the labored breaths, and sense the desperation that matched his own. Slowly, he approached, his grip tightening on the trigger.
A figure emerged—a slight female form, hooded and bent over in pain. She raised her hand, a gesture of peace, but her eyes told a different story. They were filled with fear... and something else—a plea for help.
Graham hesitated, his anger faltering. She was weak, barely able to stand, but as she took another step forward, his breath caught in his throat. Behind her, half-hidden in the shadows, was a small child, clutching the woman's leg, eyes wide with terror.
The rifle wavered in his hands as he locked eyes with the child. His heart pounded, torn between the need to protect himself and the undeniable pull of a responsibility he thought he'd lost forever.
He could see the truth written on the woman's face—she wasn't going to live much longer. The disease had already taken its toll, leaving her frail and gasping for breath. But the child... the child looked untouched by the sickness, as if fate had spared this one, giving him a chance to survive.
"Please," the woman rasped, her voice barely a whisper. "Help us."
In that moment, Graham understood what she was asking—she wasn't begging for her own life; she was pleading for her child's future. Without another word, she had entrusted him with the most precious thing she had left. The realization hit him like a blow, and he felt the weight of her unspoken request settle heavily on his shoulders.
His resolve wavered as he lowered the rifle, his mind racing with possibilities. He had been ready to give up, to lay down his burden and follow his family into the void. But now... now there was something—someone—worth fighting for.
As he met the woman's eyes one last time, he nodded, the silent agreement passing between them. He would do what she couldn't—he would save the child.
Graham lowered the weapon, the weight of his decision pressing heavily on his heart. He knew that once he made this choice, there would be no turning back—no undoing what came next. This decision wouldn't just alter his fate; it would shape the future of an innocent child who now held the last shred of hope in a shattered world.
