Page 1 of The Last of Love

1

LENA

Lena stood at the front of the meeting room, arms crossed, as the group debated the dwindling supply situation. They were low on everything: food, medicine, ammunition. The familiar tension hung in the air. Everyone was looking to her for answers, for direction, and she couldn’t afford to show any sign of uncertainty. Since the outbreak, Lena had become a leader for her compound. She had to have all the answers. She had to be strong.

Lena was only 35, but the weight of leadership had aged her beyond her years. She carried herself with the kind of authority that came naturally to her; at 5'11", she was tall, imposing, and commanded attention without needing to raise her voice. Her presence alone was enough to make people stop and listen, and when she did speak, her voice had that low, steady tone of someone who had seen too much but refused to be shaken.

Her body told the same story. Even through the worn fabric of her firefighter uniform, her muscles were unmistakable. She had broad shoulders, defined arms, and a strength that seemed almost otherworldly in these bleak times. The uniform itself had become a symbol of her past life, but more than that, it waspractical. She could move easily in it, and it reminded everyone of what she had once been. It still carried weight. In a world where symbols mattered as much as survival, Lena’s uniform was a reminder of order, of the days when saving lives meant rushing into burning buildings, not fighting off hordes of the undead.

Her hair, a dark sandy blonde, had grown longer in the years since the outbreak. She used to keep it cropped short, practical and no-nonsense, but now? There was no time for vanity or upkeep. The world was different. She had other priorities. Most days, she just swept it up and out of her face, tying it back in a tight, no-frills bun. It didn’t matter what she looked like, only that she could get the job done. Efficiency over aesthetics. She never had the luxury of worrying about how she appeared to others.

But even as she walked through the compound, her sharp, stoic features set in their usual expression, people would look at her and feel a surge of reassurance. She exuded strength, the kind of strength that had kept their small community standing for the past three years. She didn’t smile much— since there wasn’t much to smile about. But Lena was their leader; Lena gave them hope.

Yet, behind the tough exterior, there were moments of doubt, of course. They came rarely, creeping in during the quiet hours when no one was watching. She wondered how long she could keep this up. How long before the weight of it all crushed her? How long before her muscles, her discipline, her sheer willpower weren’t enough? But those were thoughts she never let show. She buried them, just like everything else.

Lena’s focus remained outward. There was no space for self-pity or fear. That’s why she wore the uniform. It’s why she hadn’t changed it, ignoring how the sleeves were starting to fray and the edges worn soft from constant use. It was more than just a pieceof clothing. It was armor. It kept her tied to the woman she had been before the world collapsed, to the ideals of service, duty, and responsibility that had shaped her entire life.

The truth was, Lena had always been the one to step up. For as long as she could remember, she had been told that being a Sorenson meant carrying the weight of others on your shoulders. Public service ran in her blood. Her father had been a fire chief; her mother, a paramedic. She had chosen firefighting, drawn to the thrill and the danger of saving lives from the brink of disaster, following in the footsteps of her father. She never backed down from a challenge, and she never gave up on people.

But now, people were different. The world was different. Saving lives wasn’t about pulling people from burning buildings anymore. It was about survival, about making decisions no one should ever have to make. And the hardest part? Knowing she couldn’t save everyone. Not anymore.

As Lena glanced at herself in the reflection of the meeting room door, she barely recognized the woman staring back. The stern set of her jaw, the lines around her eyes, the tight bun of hair that had once been carelessly short. Everything about the way she looked screamed resilience, but there was something else, too: a hardness that hadn’t been there before. A weariness. She had become a leader not by choice, but by necessity, and she wore that necessity like another layer of armor.

Lena focused back on the meeting. Tensions were getting higher and higher when suddenly Lena was saved by a knock at the door. Lena glanced up, seeming irritated by the interruption but actually relieved.

“There’s someone at the gate.” A guard fumbled in. “They say they have some important information.”

Lena’s brow furrowed. “Do they look healthy? Are they alone?”

“She seems to be normal and alone.”

“She? Oh boy. Okay.” She exhaled slowly, letting the tension drain from her shoulders before pushing away from the table. “I’ll go check her out.”

These checks had become routine. She had to be careful about who she let into the compound. Since the outbreak, aside from her role as leader in the community, Lena had also taken on the responsibility of filtering the desperate from the dangerous. They couldn’t afford to make any mistakes. One wrong move, and the entire community could be exposed. One infected newcomer, and they could all be wiped out. The weight of it pressed on her constantly. They needed everyone, every able body, and yet they couldn’t trust just anyone.

Three years ago, Lena never would’ve guessed that this would be her life. She had always been career-focused, following in the footsteps of those in her family before her. Back then, she was living the life she had always imagined. At only 32, she had risen to become a distinguished fire captain in New York. This title demanded respect and carried weight wherever she went. Her life revolved around saving others. She was all too familiar with rushing into burning buildings while everyone else was running out. It was exhilarating, but dangerous.

Of course, that kind of success at such a young age didn’t come without its disadvantages. She’d made sacrifices. Friendships faded as she prioritized long hours at the station, endless training, and the constant need to be on call. Family gatherings became rare, distant memories. At least they were understanding. But relationships? Those were nearly impossible to maintain with the demands of the job. But who else could say they had the same level of respect and prestige? It was a price she’d been willing to pay, at least back then.

Her commitment to saving lives was the reason she was trusted so completely, the reason she had been chosen to lead, to take charge. Her bravery in the face of danger had made her afigure of authority, someone people looked to in a crisis. And for a time, that had been enough for her. More than enough.

But this? This wasn’t the life she had signed up for.

Now she was more than just a fire captain. She had been thrust into a position of total leadership, one that stretched far beyond the scope of anything she had ever trained for. She wasn’t just coordinating rescue missions or leading her team into burning buildings anymore. She was responsible for the survival of an entire community. Defense. Security. Training civilians on how to fight zombies, something that still felt surreal no matter how many times she said it out loud.

And these endless supply meetings. It felt like everything was crumbling around her, and yet here she was, discussing rations and ammunition stockpiles as if they could plan their way out of an apocalypse. It was too much.

As much as it was an honor to be trusted with the role, this wasn’t the responsibility she had ever really wanted. She hadn’t signed up to be a leader of one of the last standing communities in a world overrun by the undead. She hadn’t planned on making life-or-death decisions on a daily basis, or deciding who to let in and who to turn away at the gates. The constant weight of it all pressed down on her like a physical force, a burden that never left her shoulders.

She missed the simplicity of her old life. There had been danger, sure, but it was a danger she understood. There was structure, predictability in the chaos. She could prepare for it, train for it. This, though? This was chaos without rules. It was survival of the fittest in its rawest form, and she had been thrown into the deep end.

It was so much. Too much, sometimes.

And yet she couldn’t let herself buckle under the pressure. People were counting on her. And even when it felt like she wasjust holding things together with sheer will, she couldn’t afford to let that responsibility slip. Not now.

She made her way to the security office, flipping on the intercom as she stared into the grainy black-and-white footage on the camera. Her eyes narrowed at the figure standing at the gate, a person she recognized instantly.

Lena scoffed, rolling her eyes. “You’re telling me you didn’t know who this was?”

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