There was no light at first. No tunnel. No goddamn angels.
Just darkness. Heavy, suffocating. Like the kind you find in deep ocean trenches—quiet and endless.
Then came the pain.
Not sharp, but a dull, growing burn in his chest. He gasped like a newborn, lungs aching as if he hadn't used them in years. Cold air rushed in. It tasted of mold, rot, and dust. He blinked against the light stabbing his eyes.
And that's when he realized: he wasn't in his bed.
He was on a cracked concrete floor, surrounded by rusting metal shelves and toppled boxes. The room smelled like an old bunker—military-grade staleness mixed with something more… primal.
He sat up fast, too fast, and the world spun. He pressed a palm to his chest. The skin was different. Smoother. Thinner. His hands were calloused but young. He stared at them, eyes widening.
„This… isn't my body."
His voice came out hoarse. Not his voice either. Panic bloomed in his gut.
A crash echoed from above. Muffled footsteps. Heavy. Boots scraping against old wood.
He crawled to the corner, breathing hard, heart hammering. His mind raced—memories, fragments of another life. Of being hit by a truck on the way to work. Of a world with phones, cars, people…
And then nothing.
Until now.
He scanned the room again. Military rations. A moldy backpack. A battered map on the wall.
And then he saw it: a faded Firefly logo.
"No way."
He stumbled to his feet, grabbing the backpack, hands moving almost on instinct. A glance inside—half-eaten jerky, a switchblade, two handgun mags. No gun.
He peered out a cracked window. The sky was overcast, buildings skeletal and abandoned. Nature had started to reclaim the streets. Vines over concrete. Rusted cars. Birds circling a broken skyscraper.
It hit him like a punch to the gut.
"This is The Last of Us," he whispered.
Another thump upstairs. Voices now. Human.
Or worse.
He didn't wait to find out. He slipped through the back door of the safehouse, heart racing.
His name—he couldn't even remember his name from before. But none of that mattered now.
If this was that world, then he knew the rules.
Survive. Stay quiet. Don't get bit.
And don't trust anyone.