The silence was the worst part. Not the quiet of a peaceful morning, but the heavy, unnatural silence of a world emptied. Sarah gripped the rusty axe, its weight a cold comfort in her trembling hands. Three months. Three months since the coughing started, since the news reports turned frantic, since the dead began to walk.
Her small cottage, once a haven, was now a cage. Every creak of the floorboards, every rustle of leaves outside, sent a jolt of fear through her. Food was running low. Today, she had to go out.
She pushed open the back door, wincing at the groan of old wood. The garden, once vibrant with roses, was overgrown and wild. Beyond the low fence, the lane stretched, empty and still. Too still. She moved slowly, carefully, her eyes scanning every shadow, every broken window of the houses opposite.
A low moan echoed from further down the lane. Sarah froze. Her heart hammered against her ribs. It was close. Too close. She ducked behind a thick bush, peering through the leaves. A figure shuffled into view. Its clothes were torn, its skin grey and peeling, and its jaw hung loose, drooling. It was one of them. A ‘walker’, as they called them.
It moved with a sickening lurch, its vacant eyes staring straight ahead. It passed her hiding spot, oblivious. Sarah held her breath until it was out of sight. She knew she had to be quicker, smarter.
Her destination was the old convenience store, a mile down the road. It might have canned goods, anything to survive a few more days. The journey was a tense ballet of stealth and speed. She hugged walls, sprinted across open spaces, and listened intently for any sound.
She reached the store, its windows boarded up, a single door ajar. Inside, it was dark and smelled of dust and decay. She moved through the aisles, her axe ready. Cans of beans, a few bottles of water, a dusty bag of rice. A small victory.
As she turned to leave, a sudden crash from the back room made her jump. Not a walker, this time. Something else. A rat, perhaps? Or…
A faint whimper. It sounded human.
Sarah hesitated. Her instincts screamed at her to run, to save herself. But the whimper tugged at something deep inside her. Slowly, cautiously, she moved towards the sound, her axe raised.
In the back room, a young girl, no older than ten, was huddled behind an overturned shelf, sobbing quietly. She was thin, her clothes dirty, but alive.
“Hey,” Sarah whispered, her voice hoarse from disuse. The girl looked up, her eyes wide with fear, then hope.
“Are you… real?” the girl whispered back.
Sarah smiled, a genuine smile for the first time in months. “Yes, I’m real. My name’s Sarah. What’s yours?”
“Lily,” the girl said, her voice trembling.
Sarah helped Lily up. They had found each other. The world was still broken, dangerous, but now, Sarah wasn’t alone. They would face the next dawn together, two survivors in a silent world, ready to fight for every sunrise.
Vocabulary Notes
Story written by Gemini Pro AI
Image created by Imagiyo AI
CC Music: Drifting at 432 Hz – Unicorn Heads
Reading Short Stories/Content for English Learners 
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