Chapter 1
The oversized sweater draped over my shoulders, almost swallowing me whole. It was too big, the sleeves hanging past my wrists. But it kept me warm, and warmth was hard to come by these days. I tugged it tighter around me, trying to conceal the slight bulge in my stomach, but the five-month pregnancy was starting to show. There was no denying it anymore. The baby was real.
I hadn’t wanted to be pregnant. At least not at first. The man I thought I loved—Leon—had left me right before I found out. For her. I never told him. Part of me wanted to, but I wasn’t sure I even wanted to keep it. I wasn’t sure if I was strong enough. Then everything fell apart.
It was hard to grasp the reality of the virus, of how everything in the world had shifted overnight. It wasn’t just the sickness—the Afflicted, as they called them now. It was the way life had stopped. How we had stopped.
Women couldn’t have babies anymore. Not after the outbreak. We couldn’t even carry to term. Miscarriages were rampant, and many women who dared to keep a child perished alongside it. It was announced that the virus had made women barren. The blood would run cold in their veins, and in the end, all they could do was watch the world around them wither.
Yet here I was, five months along and still carrying. The last known woman with a child. A gift, Aunt May always said. But it wasn’t a gift I wanted anyone to know about. If they knew, I would be hunted. If they knew, I would be a target. There were people out there who would kill for what I carried—what my body had created.
My aunt stirred the soup in the pot in front of her. The scent of tomatoes, onions, and potatoes filled the air, but it didn’t do much to curb the tightness in my stomach. She was making soup with the last of what we had, using basic ingredients chopped into small pieces. It was all we had left.
“Sarah, come sit,” Aunt May called softly from the stove. She had a way of speaking, as if the world around her was crumbling but she was determined to hold it all together. May had always been like that—steadfast. She was my mother’s younger sister, the one who raised me after Mom died when I was just ten. She had never been a mother, not in the conventional sense, but she had always been there. Always.
I wiped my hands on the sides of my pants before moving to sit at the small table. The house creaked beneath me, a constant reminder of how everything was decaying. I glanced over at the windows again, checking, though I knew they were already secure. It was a habit now—checking, double-checking, triple-checking. The world outside was nothing like it once was. There were things out there now that wanted to tear us apart. Things that didn’t care who you were or how much you loved.
“its safe right?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
May nodded as she poured the soup into two bowls. “We’re safe for now. But we have to stay alert always. Eat.”
She handed me the bowl, and I took it with a nod of gratitude, though the dull feeling in my stomach didn’t dissipate. The soup had no taste. None at all. A bland, watery mess. I forced a spoonful into my mouth, barely able to keep it down. Every bite felt like an effort. Every swallow was like pushing a rock down my throat. But I had to eat. I had to eat for the baby.
I looked down at my stomach, running a hand over the swelling curve beneath the fabric. I had to protect it. I had to keep this baby safe. No matter what.
“Sarah, are you all right?” May asked, her voice gentle but knowing.
I nodded, forcing a smile. “I’m fine. Just tired.”
She sighed, setting her bowl down in front of her, watching me carefully. I could feel her eyes on me, always watching, always trying to read me. Sometimes it felt like she knew everything about me, like she could see the thoughts swirling in my head. But I didn’t let her see too much. I couldn’t. If I did, I feared the truth would spill out, and I couldn’t bear to worry her.
“You have to be strong, Sarah,” she said, as if she knew exactly what was in my heart. “I know it’s hard. But we’re going to get through this. We always do.”
I looked at her, my throat tight. Her eyes were kind, but they held something deeper—something she didn’t say. We both knew the truth. The world was dying. And there was nothing we could do to stop it.
“I know,” I whispered, even though I wasn’t sure if I believed it.
The world outside was rotting. The Afflicted were everywhere, crawling in every direction. Sometimes, late at night, I could hear them outside—groaning, dragging their feet, always searching for something to devour. It had been this way for over a year now. And the worst part was, it was never going to get better. It would only get worse.
It all started on my twenty-seventh birthday. Leon had left me just a week earlier, walking away without a single word of warning. He hadn’t wanted this. He hadn’t wanted me. And now the world was unraveling at the seams. The news went crazy that day. Reports came flooding in from every corner of the globe. People were showing signs—red eyes, bleeding from the nose, feverish coughing, seizures. And then, the hunger. They wanted flesh. Human flesh. Animal flesh.
It wasn’t long before the infection spread.
And people... they started to lose their minds. The panic set in, spreading like wildfire. People raided stores. There were blackouts. And people killing people—friends turning on each other in a matter of seconds. No one knew who to trust.
The virus spread fast. And before I knew it, the world I once knew was gone.
“May,” I said, pushing the bowl away from me, the taste still sitting heavy in my mouth, “what if... what if we’re the last ones?”
Her hand rested gently on mine, her fingers cool against my skin. “We’re not alone, Sarah. We have each other. And that’s enough.”
It wasn’t enough. I could feel the weight of the world pressing down on me, suffocating me. I wanted to be hopeful, to believe her. But the truth was, we were the last of something. And the rest of the world was already gone.
A knock at the door shattered the silence.
I froze, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. May’s eyes narrowed, her body going rigid. We both knew what it meant. Raiders. They came in groups now, scavenging, looking for food, looking for weapons, looking for anything to survive. Some were just desperate, trying to make it another day. But some were... dangerous.
“Stay here,” May ordered, her voice sharp. She stood quickly, reaching under the sink and pulling out the old gun she kept hidden there. It was rusty, but it had gotten us through so far.
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.
“Do not move,” May said, her voice low, intense. “Do you understand?”
I swallowed hard, clutching the knife beneath the table in my lap. I wasn’t going to be useless this time. I couldn’t afford to be. Not with the baby.
May gave me a last look, and then she was gone, disappearing into the hall.
I held my breath, trying to steady my heart. I could hear the voices now—low, gruff, urgent. Raiders. We had to be careful. Every decision we made could mean the difference between life and death.
The knocking on the door came again, louder this time, insistent.
I gripped the knife tighter. Whatever happened, I wasn’t going down without a fight.
