The sun had long set on the horizon, casting an eerie, orange glow over the abandoned streets of the city. The air was thick with the smell of death and decay, and the only sounds were the distant moans of the Infected. Alex and his group of survivors huddled together in a run-down apartment building, the only refuge they had managed to find in this post-apocalyptic world.

Alex sat on a rickety wooden chair in the middle of the room, his eyes fixed on a map of the city spread out in front of him. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he tried to come up with a plan to keep his group alive for another day. The rest of the group was scattered around the room, some huddled together for warmth, others staring blankly into space.

Alex was a natural leader, the kind of person who always seemed to know what to do in a crisis. He was tall and muscular, with short-cropped hair and a five o'clock shadow that never seemed to go away. His eyes were the colour of steel, and they betrayed a deep weariness that came from months of fighting for survival.

As he studied the map, Alex's mind drifted back to the beginning of the end. It had started with a virus, a new strain that nobody had ever seen before. At first, it seemed like a simple flu, nothing to worry about. But then people started to get sick, really sick. They started to cough up blood, and their skin turned grey. And then they died. And then they came back.

Alex shuddered at the memory. It had been chaos in the early days, as the virus spread like wildfire across the country. The government had tried to contain it, but they were too slow. Within weeks, the cities had descended into madness. The streets were filled with Infected, people who had died and come back to life with a single purpose: to kill and infect others.

Alex had been a police officer before the outbreak. He had seen his fair share of violence and death, but nothing could have prepared him for this. He had watched as his colleagues were torn apart by the Infected, their screams echoing through the city. He had watched as his wife and daughter had died in his arms, infected by the virus.

But somehow, Alex had survived. He had gathered a group of survivors around him, people who were just as determined to stay alive as he was. They had scoured the city for supplies, fought off the Infected and other survivors who were just as desperate as they were. And they had managed to make it this far, to this run-down apartment building on the edge of the city.

Alex stood up, his mind made up. They needed to venture out into the city again, to scavenge for supplies. It was risky, but they had no choice. They were running low on food and water, and they couldn't stay here forever. He turned to the group, his voice calm and steady.

"We need to go out and find supplies," he said. "It's not going to be easy, but we have no choice. We stick together, we watch each other's backs, and we get what we need. Who's with me?"

The group looked at each other nervously, but they knew there was no other option. They nodded their heads, and one by one, they rose to their feet. Alex led them out of the apartment building and into the streets, ready to face whatever horrors the city had in store for them.

Alex led the way down the street, his shotgun at the ready. The rest of the group followed close behind, their eyes scanning the surroundings for any sign of danger. The streets were eerily quiet, the only sound the crunching of gravel under their boots.

They rounded a corner and saw it: the supermarket. It was a large, modern building, with big glass windows that had been smashed in. Inside, the shelves were mostly empty, but there were a few cans and boxes scattered about.

Alex motioned for the others to follow him inside. They crept in cautiously, their weapons at the ready. The air was musty and stale, the only light filtering in through the broken windows.

They split up to search the store, careful to stay within sight of each other. Alex went to the back, where the coolers were. He found a few cartons of milk and some bottled water, which he stuffed into his backpack.

As he was coming back to the front, he heard a noise. It was a low growl, coming from one of the aisles. Alex raised his shotgun, his heart pounding in his chest.

He peeked around the corner and saw it: an Infected, stumbling down the aisle towards him. It was a young woman, her clothes torn and her eyes glazed over.

Alex took aim and fired, the blast echoing through the empty store. The Infected fell to the ground, its body jerking with spasms. Alex fired another shot, just to be sure.

The noise had alerted the others, and they came running. They saw the dead Infected and nodded in approval. They knew they couldn't afford to let their guard down for even a second.

They continued to search the store, finding a few more supplies here and there. But as they were about to leave, they heard a noise from outside. It was the sound of a car engine, coming closer.

Alex motioned for the others to hide, and they crouched behind the shelves. The car pulled up outside, and the group could hear the doors opening.

"Hey, look what we got here!" a voice called out. "Fresh meat!"

The group tensed, their weapons at the ready. They knew that they were outnumbered and outgunned. But they also knew that they had to fight for their survival.

Alex peeked around the corner and saw them: a group of five men, all heavily armed and wearing leather jackets. They were grinning as they approached the store, their eyes scanning for any sign of life.

Alex took a deep breath and raised his shotgun. This was it. The Last Stand had begun.

The group reaches a supermarket and finds some much-needed supplies. They encounter another group of survivors, who are hostile and refuse to share.

Alex led the group through the abandoned streets, keeping his eyes peeled for any signs of danger. They had managed to survive this long by being cautious and working together, but they knew that they couldn't let their guard down for a moment.

As they approached the supermarket, Alex signaled for the others to stay back. He crept forward, keeping his gun at the ready. He peered through the shattered windows, scanning for any signs of life.

That's when he saw them. A group of survivors, huddled together in the back of the store. They were armed and looked like they had been surviving for quite some time.

Alex cautiously approached them, holding up his hands in a sign of peace. "We're not here to cause any trouble," he said. "We just need some supplies."

The other group didn't seem convinced. They leveled their guns at Alex and his companions, their eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"We don't share," one of them said. "You're on your own."

Alex could feel the tension rising. He knew that this situation could turn violent at any moment. He tried to reason with the other group, explaining that they were all in the same boat and needed to work together if they wanted to survive.

But the other group was stubborn. They refused to budge, and Alex knew that it was time to go. He signaled to the others to retreat, and they backed out of the store slowly, keeping their eyes on the other group.

As they made their way back to their base, Alex couldn't help but feel a sense of disappointment. They had hoped to find some much-needed supplies at the supermarket, but instead they had encountered a group of survivors who were unwilling to work together.

But he knew that giving up wasn't an option. They had come too far and fought too hard to let a setback like this get them down. They would keep searching, keep fighting, and keep hoping for a better tomorrow.

The group made it back to their base, but they weren't alone. A horde of Infected had followed them, attracted by the noise and scent of fresh blood. They rushed towards the barricades, growling and snarling, their eyes gleaming with an insatiable hunger.

"Quickly, everyone get inside and fortify the defenses!" Alex shouted, his voice ringing with urgency. The survivors scrambled to obey, grabbing whatever they could find to reinforce the barricades. Some used wooden planks, others used metal pipes, and a few even used office chairs.

But the Infected were relentless. They smashed against the barricades with ferocity, their arms flailing and their teeth gnashing. The survivors fought back with everything they had, striking them with bats, knives, and even fire extinguishers.

As the battle raged on, Alex saw movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned to see a small group of Infected scaling the wall of a nearby building, preparing to leap onto the roof of the survivors' base.

"Dammit, they're getting in from above!" he yelled. "We need someone to take them out!"

Without hesitation, Jake stepped forward. He was a wiry man with a scruffy beard and a fierce determination. He grabbed a grappling hook and rope, then sprinted towards the building.