Zombi Lock

The silence of the dead city had long stopped feeling like peace. To **Elias**, it felt like a shield—a thick, heavy vault door that kept the terrifying expanse of the unknown at bay. For three years since the last roars faded from the streets, their fortified home had been the entire universe. Every morning began with the same rigid ritual: checking the iron bolts on the shutters, inspecting the sealed water barrels, and counting the rows of canned goods lining the cellar. Elias lived by a single law: **keep her safe at all costs**. He was adjusting the latch on the heavy wooden kitchen window when **Maya** walked in. She wasn't the small, wide-eyed ten-year-old he had dragged through the initial chaotic collapse, nor was she the terrified teenager who used to hide beneath the floorboards. Now 24, she stood tall in the morning light, her posture carrying a sharp, restless tension that had been building for months. "Dad," she said, her voice cutting through the quiet house. "We nee