The world was quiet—too quiet. The only sound came from the occasional creaking of metal and the wind pushing ash and dust through the hollowed-out ruins of what once was a vibrant city. In the heart of an abandoned apartment building, a man named Ed lay on the cold floor, wrapped in ragged blankets, his hand resting on the hilt of a worn-out combat knife.
He was dreaming again.
In his dream, the world was whole. The sun bathed everything in golden light. He was in the garden with his daughter, Kia. Her giggle echoed in his ears like the sweetest melody. She wore a yellow dress, flowers woven into her tiny braids.
“Papa, catch me!” she shouted, running barefoot through the grass.
Ed laughed and chased after her, scooping her up in his arms as she squealed with joy.
“You’re too fast for me, little monkey,” he said, spinning her around.
“I’m not a monkey! I’m a fairy princess!” Kia declared, puffing her cheeks.
“Oh, forgive me, Your Highness,” he bowed playfully.
Kia giggled and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Papa... I love you.”
He held her close, closing his eyes. “I love you too, my princess. More than anything.”
He smiled.
Then, the bell rang.
Ed’s eyes shot open. He sat up, instantly alert. The bell—his perimeter alarm—was triggered. That meant movement. Could be a scavenger, or worse, a stray group of infected. Silently, he stood up, grabbing his knife and checking the pistol strapped to his side. He avoided using the gun unless absolutely necessary—it made too much noise, attracted too much death.
He crouched near the window, eyes scanning the alley where the bell had been rigged. A lone zombie limped across, dragging one foot. He waited. Two more followed. Then five. Then twenty. His breath caught in his throat.
A wave.
He moved swiftly. Knife in hand, he slipped down the fire escape like a shadow. For years, Ed had survived, not because he was strong, but because he was patient. Because he had a reason. His daughter.
He believed she was still out there.
Every night, before closing his eyes, he whispered a prayer. “Let me find her. Let me hold her one more time.” The world had taken everything from him—but not his hope.
He weaved through the city ruins, silently dispatching infected that crossed his path. One by one, he cut them down, their eyes empty, their groans hollow. He never let himself look too long into their faces—fearful he’d see Kia among them.
Weeks passed. Then months. Ed encountered others—survivors like him. A small group was holed up in a metro tunnel, armed and organized. They were wary at first, but Ed shared his food and skills, and slowly, they trusted him.
For the first time in years, he wasn’t alone.
He told them about Kia. How he lost her during the initial outbreak in the chaos of evacuation. How the last thing he saw was her reaching out to him as the soldiers pushed the crowds back. How he searched every hospital, every refugee zone, every checkpoint.
“She’s out there,” he would say. “I know she is.”
The others didn’t say much. They didn’t want to take away his hope—but they had seen too much. No child survived this long.
One day, while scavenging, the ground trembled. Not from an earthquake—but from the stampede of feet. The survivors knew what it meant.
A wave.
Dozens—hundreds of zombies rushing through the city like a tidal wave of rot and hunger. The group ran, shouting warnings, scrambling for cover. Ed ran too—until he saw her.
In the middle of the wave, bloodied and feral, eyes pale and lost, was Kia.
She was just four years old. Her yellow dress long gone, replaced with rags and dirt. But he knew that face. He knew those eyes.
He stopped.
The world around him blurred. The shouts of his group faded. He saw her as she once was—smiling, laughing, calling him “Papa.”
Ed took a step forward.
Then another.
“Ed!” someone screamed. “What are you doing!?”
But he kept walking.
Tears streamed down his face. His hands trembled. One bite tore through his arm, but he didn’t stop. Another bit into his side. Still, he kept moving.
Finally, he reached her.
He dropped to his knees, arms outstretched.
“I found you… my princess,” he whispered. “I’ve missed you so much.”
She lunged.
He didn’t resist.
He held her as the world fell apart once more.
The light returned.
Soft, warm sunlight filtered through the leaves of the old garden. Birds chirped. Wind danced gently through the trees. Ed blinked, confused.
He stood, whole again—no wounds, no fear. And then he saw her.
Kia.
In her yellow dress, barefoot in the grass, arms wide open, smiling brighter than the sun.
“Papa!” she laughed.
He ran to her, and they embraced, spinning in the garden like they used to.
“I found you,” he whispered again, but this time with peace in his voice.
Together, they laughed, hand in hand, as the world behind them faded into memory.