The road stretched ahead like a gray, cracked ribbon, flanked by fields that must once have been green and full of life but now looked like nothing more than a carpet of dry, abandoned weeds dotted with fallen fences. When they finally left the Greene farm, the sun at last broke through the mist, turning the air into a golden, damp veil that clung to the skin…
The rhythmic sound of hooves striking the ground was the only thing that could be heard.
Jason maintained a relaxed posture on Duke, holding the reins calmly. The horse advanced with steady steps under his guidance.
He observed the surroundings with a silent surprise tightening his chest. Seeing that world through a television screen could never compare to experiencing it for real. Reality was far crueler than the series had portrayed—at least when it came to the setting.
The farm where he had lived during the past week, he now realized, was an exception. Compared to the rest of the world, it almost seemed preserved.
The silence of a dead world, the green of the crops reduced to faded tones, the deserted and cracked roads as though punished by time itself… all of it stirred an uncomfortable feeling inside him.
He couldn't help but remember the time he had to write a paper for his psychology class explaining the difference between observing and experiencing reality.
According to what he had learned, when someone watches something on television, there is always an invisible layer of protection between the mind and what is being shown. The screen itself imposes clear boundaries: suffering has a beginning, middle, and end. The horror of a scary movie, for example, can be interrupted at any moment with a simple action—turning off the TV with the remote or simply deciding to stop watching.
The brain understands that it is only a representation, something that may or may not happen, but that remains distant and under control. There is no need to react physically or become fully emotionally involved because there is no real danger.
Even the most extreme scenes are filtered through that safety. They can make an impact, scare you, leave your mind unsettled for a few hours or even a full day—as happens with horror films or heavier dramas. Still, that's all it is: a passing impression, something observed from the outside that demands nothing more than feeling it and moving on.
Experiencing it, however, eliminates that distance. There is no screen displaying the events, no soundtrack guiding the emotions, nor the comforting certainty that it was all performed by actors. The body now participates in the experience as much as the mind does. Silence stops being mere absence of sound and becomes pressure—something that weighs on the ears and the chest. The settings are no longer static images but part of your daily life. Every detail gains importance because it can represent real danger, and the brain enters a continuous state of alert, trying to anticipate threats.
Moreover, when you are present, responsibility exists too. You cannot remain a mere passive observer. Decisions have direct consequences, and that completely changes how the world is perceived. Devastation stops being a dramatic backdrop and becomes the concrete realization of irreversible loss. What once seemed merely darker or more raw in fiction reveals itself as suffocating in reality, because there is no guarantee of survival nor any promise of a satisfying resolution…
Understanding the complexity of all this, he tried not to give importance to that uncomfortable feeling. It was simply the natural process of adapting to his current reality. In truth, he only noticed the discomfort when he thought more deeply about the discrepancy between the world he once knew and the world he now lived in. The unease was born precisely from that comparison, from that silent shock between what had been and what now was.
When he decided to set it aside, the feeling vanished completely, as though it had never existed.
On the other hand, while Jason lost himself in thought, Maggie rode beside him, alert at every step. Her eyes moved constantly, sweeping the landscape with careful attention, always searching for any sign of danger.
The two continued in silence, but it wasn't an uncomfortable or heavy silence. The conversation had naturally faded just moments earlier, shortly after they left the farm behind.
Jason snapped out of his reverie the moment his sharpened senses picked up something out of place. He heard it first—an irregular, almost imperceptible dragging—and right after came the unmistakable smell of decomposition. Only then did the walker enter his field of vision, confirming what he already knew before even seeing it.
At the edge of the road, partially hidden by a patch of dry brush and a rusted abandoned car, something moved.
It was slow and quite clumsy.
A human body… or what remained of one.
The skin had a grayish, almost greenish tone, stretched tight against the bones. Part of the face appeared to have been torn away, exposing dark teeth and bare gums. One eye was gone entirely, replaced by a dry, empty socket. The clothing—perhaps a dress shirt, perhaps something similar—was torn, stained, and stuck to the body with old blood.
The dead turned its head with difficulty, as though the simple act of noticing movement required enormous effort. When it opened its mouth, no words came out.
"Hrrrgh…" Just a hoarse, drawn-out, lifeless sound.
Jason observed it all.
And felt nothing.
That is to say, the apocalyptic setting had caused him a certain discomfort on some level. But at that specific moment, upon facing a walker, he felt no shock, revulsion, or fear. His heart did not race. His breathing remained steady. His mind simply registered the creature's presence in a cold, objective way—as one might evaluate a simple obstacle in the path, something to be avoided or eliminated, nothing more.
"Walker…" he concluded internally, without any emotional weight attached to the word.
He didn't think about who that person had once been. He didn't think about whether they had family, a past, lost humanity. There was no moral conflict, no ethical hesitation. The only thing that truly crossed his mind was simple and practical:
It could spook the horses.
Jason's gaze dropped to his hands, then to the machete at his waist, assessing the distance, the angle, and the speed of the dead. It would be easy to dismount and deal with it in a matter of seconds.
But it wasn't strictly necessary either.
The walker was far enough away, and being so slow, it would take a full minute to reach them.
While his mind operated in that almost mechanical way, something in him noticed, distantly, how strange it was to feel nothing toward the creature in front of him.
That is to say, even though the surrounding scenery was far worse than he remembered from the television series, the walker itself was exactly as it had already existed in his mind. There was no reason for surprise. He knew where he was. He knew that world had ended. He knew the dead walked, attacked, and killed. And it seemed that, the moment he woke up in this reality, something inside him had simply adjusted. As though the survival instinct had silenced any useless emotion before it could even arise in the face of that world's dangers.
In other words, apathy had prevailed when it came to walkers. To him, they were no longer people, nor anything capable of provoking horror or fear—just obstacles to his survival in this world. Killing them would not awaken guilt, shock, or revulsion. He would feel absolutely nothing doing it…
That was the sensation he had in his heart.
"Jason…" Maggie's voice cut through his thoughts immediately.
She had seen the walker too. Her body was slightly leaned forward, ready to act, her hand close to the rifle on her back.
"Let's keep going. While it's still far…" she said in a low, firm tone.
Jason blinked once, as though returning from a distant place, then nodded.
"Right…"
He didn't argue. He didn't question. He simply adjusted the reins and touched Duke's sides with his heels, making the horse pick up a controlled pace. Maggie did the same, staying close. The two passed the dead without straying too far from the path.
The walker extended an uncoordinated arm as they drew near, fingers stiff, nails broken.
The horses snorted softly, uneasy, but did not panic.
In a few seconds, they had already left the creature behind.
The dead was quickly reduced to a motionless point on the roadside until it disappeared entirely when a gentle curve swallowed its crooked silhouette.
Even so, the two kept the pace for several more minutes.
Maggie slowed her horse only when the road became completely empty again.
Jason also eased Duke's speed and matched her rhythm without speaking at first. He glanced over his shoulder one last time, just to confirm the dead had truly been left behind. Only then did he speak casually.
"You know… that walker back there reminded me of someone."
Maggie raised an eyebrow, casting a quick glance at him.
"Really? Who?"
Jason thought for a moment, as though choosing the right words.
"My high-school history teacher."
She blinked, clearly caught off guard.
"What?"
"I'm serious." He tilted his head slightly, a half-smile appearing at the corner of his lips. "Same way of dragging his feet, same face like he hated being there… and that dead stare whenever someone asked a question about his explanation."
Maggie tried to keep a neutral expression but failed. The corner of her mouth twitched before she managed to hold back a short smile.
"Your teacher must have been a charming guy."
"Oh, definitely." Jason continued, now on a roll. "There was this one time he spent twenty minutes talking about the French Revolution with the map of Europe upside down and no one had the courage to tell him. When a student finally tried to correct him, he just stared in silence, exactly like that walker… then sent the kid to the principal's office."
The sound that escaped Maggie was low, almost restrained. A short, quick laugh, as though she had surprised herself.
"So in that case, he probably didn't even notice the world ended up like this…" she commented, shaking her head.
"Yeah, if he was still alive when it all started, he'd probably still be giving classes." Jason shrugged. "Just without complaining about students falling asleep anymore."
Maggie let out a genuine light laugh this time—brief, but sincere.
She gave him another look, lingering a little longer this time. There was something comforting in that calm, in that humor so out of place for the end of the world… and yet strangely welcome.
Ahead, the asphalt began showing clearer signs of abandonment. Rusted signs lay fallen by the roadside, and low buildings appeared among the dry trees.
The town was close.
Maggie straightened her posture again; the smile gradually faded, replaced by her usual alertness.
"We're almost there. From here on, total focus."
This small town was located just one mile from the farm, and it was the place Maggie used to go alone whenever she needed to obtain pharmaceutical medicines for her family… Jason was a little curious to see it…
It didn't take long for the two to reach the town.
The road ended in a narrow main street lined with low, old buildings, as though time had stopped there months before the world collapsed. The small local community appeared before them with an overly silent air, typical of a ghost town.
There was a diner with broken windows and overturned benches, an abandoned gas station with rusted pumps and crooked signs creaking slightly in the wind. A few simple houses were scattered farther ahead, many with doors open or half-torn off, curtains fluttering outward like ghosts trapped in the past. A small market had its display windows shattered, and abandoned cars sat in odd positions on the street—some crashed into poles, others simply left in the middle of the road as though their owners had fled in a hurry.
Maggie slowed the pace and guided her horse off the main street, circling a low brick building where the faded letters could still be read: "Steve's Pharmacy" next to "Patton's Bar."
Behind the building was a small side alley, shielded from the street by an abandoned truck and some overturned dumpsters.
"We leave the horses here," she said in a low voice. "They'll be out of sight from the street."
Jason nodded and dismounted first, carefully tying Duke to a sturdy pipe attached to the wall. Maggie did the same with her horse, double-checking that the reins were secure.
They moved toward the pharmacy door. The front glass was cracked but intact. Maggie opened it slowly, avoiding any creaking. The bell above the door had been removed—probably on purpose—preventing any unwanted noise.
The interior was dark and stuffy, with the characteristic smell of dust mixed with old chemicals. Shelves had been partially looted but not completely destroyed. Some boxes lay scattered on the floor, empty bottles strewn about, but there was still a lot left.
Maggie moved with familiarity, like someone who had done this more than once before.
"Antibiotics, strong painkillers, insulin if there is any, anything for infections…" she murmured while walking down the aisles. "If you spot anything useful you recognize, feel free to grab it too…"
Jason opened his backpack and began collecting what she indicated, quickly checking labels. As he did so, his eyes scanned the nearly intact shelves of basic first-aid items.
He paused for a moment and looked at her.
"Maggie, why don't we take everything?"
Maggie hesitated for a second before answering, without stopping what she was doing.
"My dad thinks we should only take what we need." She placed a few bottles into a simple bag she pulled from her pants pocket. "If there are still people alive out there, they might need it too."
Jason remained silent for a moment, absorbing that.
"I understand. Makes sense. Just because the world ended doesn't mean our humanity ended too…"
Even so, when he returned to the shelves, his eyes fixed on bandages, alcohol, gauze, antiseptics, compresses, and disposable gloves. Basic things. Things that saved lives. He began putting some of them into the backpack along with the medicines Maggie had indicated—choosing only the essentials, but in sufficient quantity to last…
The backpack grew heavier and heavier.
Jason finished fitting the last items into the backpack, carefully pulling the zipper closed to avoid noise. Then he slung it over his shoulder. Despite its considerable weight, for someone at the peak of human condition it felt as light as though he were carrying air inside. He took one final look around, making sure he hadn't left anything important behind, then began walking down the final aisle of the pharmacy almost out of habit.
That was when something caught his attention.
The condom shelf—unlike the rest of the place, where boxes had been rummaged through, bottles knocked over, and products taken in haste—that section remained oddly organized compared to everything else.
Jason stopped in front of it and let out a small, almost imperceptible ironic smile. He reached out, picked up a random pack, and turned it between his fingers for a second. He thought that, apparently, when the world ended, people had better things to worry about than using "protection" when having sex. Or perhaps there simply wasn't enough time, energy, or hope left to think about it.
He was still lost in thought when he noticed Maggie approaching in the reflection of the broken glass beside him. She stopped next to him and followed his gaze to the shelf.
Then she looked at the pack in his hand.
She raised an eyebrow.
"Jason. Is that a condom? Do you have a girlfriend I don't know about?" she asked in a calm tone, but with a slight trace of teasing. "Or are you just a very confident guy?"
Jason slowly lowered his eyes to what he was holding, as though only then realizing the situation. His expression remained neutral, hard to read, almost distant.
"It's neither…" he replied while placing the pack back. "I just saw it here and thought that, in the current situation… this kind of thing is pretty useless."
He shrugged, as though it were just a casual comment.
Maggie watched him in silence for a few seconds.
Then she smiled sideways.
"I don't think it's useless…" she said, looking at him with an indescribable glint in her green eyes…
Jason turned his gaze back to her, now curious.
"No?"
She took a step closer, keeping her voice low but without any hesitation.
"No." Her eyes locked onto his with an almost disconcerting frankness. "Actually… I would have sex with you… so this kind of thing is useful for those situations…"
The silence that followed her words wasn't heavy, but strange…
Jason didn't react immediately. He simply stared at her, trying to figure out whether it was a joke, a passing tease, or something said with full awareness. His expression remained unreadable, as though his mind were evaluating far more than just those words.
"Why?" he asked simply. "Why would you have sex with me?"
Maggie didn't answer right away. She held his gaze for a few seconds without embarrassment, as though organizing something that had been growing for days.
"Because these days there aren't many options. And because I think you're handsome. Very handsome, actually." She paused briefly; her tone softened. "And because I like you, Jason. I wouldn't do this with a guy I didn't like…"
Jason frowned slightly, surprised.
"You like me?"
She nodded slowly.
"During this week… with everything that happened, with you helping, staying, talking to me as though the world hadn't ended all the time… I didn't even notice when it happened." Maggie gave a small, nervous smile. "But you went from being simply an important person to me, to someone I want to spend every day beside… I ended up falling in love with you…"
For an instant, Jason was completely silent. His expression wasn't one of rejection, but of genuine surprise—as though he were reliving a scene he already knew, only now from the inside. Something too similar to the television series he had once watched, and yet completely real.
He blinked several times before answering.
"I… didn't expect that," he admitted. Then the corner of his mouth curved into a discreet smile. "But to be honest, I think you're beautiful too. Very. And considering everything… it would be an honor to have sex with the girl I also ended up falling in love with over the course of this week."
At the end of his words, he admitted it playfully…
Maggie laughed softly, almost soundlessly—more relieved than amused.
As they spoke, the distance between them had shrunk without either realizing it.
Now they were close enough to feel each other's warmth, their breathing shared in that tight space between empty shelves.
Their gazes met and held.
Jason said nothing more.
He simply leaned in—the height difference forcing him to bend—and took Maggie's lips with decision, pulling her close with one arm. The kiss wasn't rushed or rough, but firm, loaded with everything that had remained unspoken until then…
They finally took that step…
Maggie responded immediately, closing her eyes and wrapping her arms around his neck, drawing him even closer.
.
.
.
.
.
Outside, on the narrow main street that cut through the heart of the small local community, the oppressive silence was broken by a sound that grew slowly but inevitably: the collective dragging of hundreds of dead feet against the cracked asphalt.
A horde of walkers had appeared!
But it wasn't coming from the highway to the south. It was emerging from the town's side streets, forgotten alleys, abandoned houses, and dry fields that bordered the village limits. Hundreds of walkers—perhaps over a thousand—emerged like a slow flood, crossing every corner of the ghost town as though it didn't exist.
First came the closest ones: a handful of undead wandering nearby, dragging themselves among the abandoned cars and broken storefronts. Then more and more joined, coming out of wide-open doors, stumbling over fallen porch steps, knocking over old trash cans that rolled noisily across the ground. The chorus of hoarse moans intensified, mixing with the sound of nails scratching metal, bodies colliding with crooked poles, and bare or rotten-shoed feet slapping the asphalt.
The walker herd moved northward, instinctively following the path of the main street that led straight to the abandoned highway—the same highway where, in another time, a group of survivors had stopped to search cars for supplies…
The problem was that they would pass exactly by the street where "Steve's Pharmacy" stood!