Hi, guys. I dont have any writing experience. Im currently making this story, and I will add new chapters. This book is kind of draft for new bigger future book. So, its not final version. ChatGPT helped me redacting. But story is mine. Enjoy reading:)

  8 November, 2030

  Gauselskogen, Norway

  I was exhausted. The cold bit deeper than I expected — the Norwegian winter was starting to set in. Thin snow already covered the ground. After all the nuclear strikes, the climate had shifted, becoming harsher, meaner. But worse than the cold was the slow disappearance of food from my backpack. The farther I walked, the hungrier I got — and the lighter my pack became. In a few days, even the st nut bar would be gone—

  I didn’t finish that thought.

  A scream of despair cut through the air — close. I turned left and saw her: a woman on her knees, crying. In front of her stood... one of them, holding a baby.

  One part of me wanted to keep walking. The other… couldn’t.

  The second part won.

  The woman was screaming, begging the creature to leave them alone. She was hysterical — her voice cracked from fear. And then I heard what the thing said:

  “Don’t resist. I only want to make her better. Just like me. I’m amazing, right? Everything’s going to be fine. I just want her make be—”

  That’s when I have taken action.

  The thing turned toward me, smiling. It looked almost… proud. And then it bit the child — right on the arm.

  I smmed it to the ground.

  When it saw the barrels of my shotgun, it changed tone instantly. It began pleading — talking fast about helping me find shelter, food, a safe zone. Promising survival.

  I didn’t listen.

  It was one of their favorite traps. And I was full of hate.

  Yes, it was a female. But I called it “it.” Because of what it had become.

  Then I pulled the trigger.

  Her head exploded like a rotten melon. Blood and fragments of bone sprayed across the snow. I stood still for a second, breathing heavy.

  A scream behind me.

  The mother was holding her daughter — cradling her gently. I looked down. A patch of tiny white fur was spreading across the baby’s leg.

  The infection had begun.

  The mother looked at me — her eyes full of pain, but empty of hope.

  “Go away,” she whispered.

  And I did.