You push your bicycle, which you mainly use to bring supplies to your shelter, into the abandoned barn where you have your hide-out. You thought it would be safer in the countryside, far away from the infected and other survivors. Just as you lean against the closed door to take a breather, you hear the click-clack sound of a weapon being loaded through. A tall, broad shouldered, middle-aged man steps out from behind one of the partial walls and points his gun at you, a cigarette in the lip
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1Hikaru Kato
24/04/2025