A rusted bell dings from above the door as Caleb leads Samantha inside the exceptionally dimly-lit restaurant, his hand blocking her eyes. Both of them appear to be in their mid-twenties and are well in shape. They walk forward, Caleb ignoring the engraved 'Reservations' sign on the host's podium to his right. They don't need a reservation. Not today.

Silverstone has been well known for their fine dining for decades, although lately there has not been much commotion over the five-star restaurant. Like the rest of its neighbors, the business died down over the past few years. Times Square has just not been the same. It's been a while since they have visited the Theater District, or even Midtown Manhattan for that matter. With everything going on in their lives, they have almost forgotten all about it.

"Keep them closed." He says as he leads her to the table, his hand still covering her eyes.

He pulls out a chair for her and leans in to brush at the seat. A small cloud of dust fills the air and he swiftly fans it away with his hand. "Okay, have a seat. No peeking." He removes his hand from her face as he guides her to the chair and helps her sit down. Samantha, eyes still closed tight, smiles excitedly as she resists the urge to peek. She feels for the strap of her messenger bag she has slung over her shoulder and grabs it. She lifts it over her head and lets the bag drop to the floor.

Caleb looks at the table and leans over to quickly arrange a few things on it. "Okay. Now."

Her eyes pop open and she covers her mouth, gasping. "Oh, Caleb!"

The small table in front of them is beautifully set up. An empty plate and wine glass sits on each side, next to neatly folded napkins and properly positioned silverware. A red rose sits in a small glass vase on the left side and a candle, wax already dripping down its side, flashes a dim light on them from the right. Centered between the two is a fairly large silver platter, sitting next to a bottle of red wine.

She grabs the rose and smells it, as if to make sure it's real, and a smile spreads across her face. She peers up at him, her eyes beginning to water, as she places it back in the slightly cracked vase. "You remembered!"

"How could I forget?" He leans down to give her a kiss.

Caleb stands at the side of the table and reaches for the wine. He takes her glass and fills it up halfway. "Now this is the good stuff."

"Really?"

He smirks. "I don't know, but it sure sounded fancy. Les Vignes de Bila-Haut." He reads the label, or attempts to, as he butchers the French language. "M. Chap—Chapoutier?" He struggles with the last word and shrugs.

Samantha can't help but laugh. "Please stop."

He looks around as he carelessly pours his glass, the wine filling up to the rim. "What, am I embarrassing you?" He asks sarcastically.

"I wasn't going to say anything," She leans over to whisper as he finally gets seated. "But yeah. Very much."

The two laugh as they sip from their wine. For Caleb it's more like a chug. He sets his glass down and the table shifts downward on his right side. Sighing, he peers down at the tables legs. A small chunk of wood sits on the floor and he kicks it over to prop it under the one of the legs. He applies pressure on the tabletop to ensure it's stable.

"So, what's on the menu tonight?" She asks, glancing at her reflection on the silver platter. Her stomach growls dramatically.

He grabs the lid of the platter and gradually lifts it up to reveal a cooked meat. It looks like turkey. Or maybe it's ham? He sets the lid aside and glances over at her. "Let's just say its rotisserie chicken."

They laugh as he begins to cut off one of its legs with his steak knife. He lays it down gently on her plate and begins to saw him off one of his own. She waits for his plate to be ready before digging in. Several minutes later, the two sit laughing crazily with a devoured chicken—or really, just a pile of bones—resting on the table between them. She sips the rest of her wine and pushes her empty glass toward the center of the table.

"Refill please!" She smiles.

"Yes ma'am." Caleb reaches over for the bottle of Bila-Haut. He begins to pour her a glass but all that comes out are a few pitiful drops. He turns it completely upside down, shaking it and hitting its side as if it were an empty ketchup bottle. "Awe!"

Samantha gazes past him to look toward the bar counter. "Excuse me! Can we get some drinks?" She looks back at him and rolls her eyes playfully. "Jeez, the service here stinks."

They laugh again. Nobody responds or tends to them.

Her smile widens as she leans against the table with her elbows, resting her head on her hands. "So, what's for dessert?"

"Well..." He scans the area.

They hear squeaking and turn to see a chubby rat scaling the wall against them. Clearly it's been eating well. It sniffs Samantha's bag before wobbling off toward the front of the restaurant.

"You're looking at it."

She rolls her eyes again. "Thanks, but I'll pass."

Caleb snarls as he raises his voice, "Okay, that is the last straw! You know for a five star restaurant, you people sure don't seem to know what you're doing." He dramatically slams his hand down on the table, as if to cause a scene.

Her left hand reaches over and lightly grasps his, the diamond on her ring finger shimmering in the candlelight. She smiles. "Seriously, thank you for everything. It's amazing."

"You're amazing." He smiles back as he peers deeply into her eyes.

Samantha gazes around the empty room. Their table is the only one set, and one of the few still actually sitting on its legs at that. The crack between a few tabletops and chairs barricaded against the boarded windows lets a sliver of sunlight shoot into the dining room. Glass and wooden chunks are among the debris scattered across the floor. Crimson red spots stain the carpet from multiple areas, some faded and some fairly fresh. One spot looks as if someone had smashed a bottle of red wine, much like the one they were drinking, on the floor and let the puddle seep into the mat. The fresh liquid glistens in the light from the window.

She turns back to him, rather nonchalant. "I still can't believe you remembered."

He tightens his grip on her hand and flashes a smile. "Of course I did. We survived one more anniversary."

The two lean in for a kiss, when suddenly—

A loud thud comes from the window as something is slammed into the glass from the outside. The glass rattles in the window frame. The two exchange looks. Another bang, this one significantly louder, echoes through the dining hall and they hear the glass crack.

Without hesitation, they jump to their feet. Samantha reaches down to grab her bag and slings it over her shoulders, while Caleb snatches up the steak knife from the table and tightly clinches it at his side. She reaches into her bag and digs out a 9mm handgun.

They walk over toward the front window and peek through one of the cracks in the boards. The creatures outside, stumbling around carelessly, begin to flood 47th street. The deteriorating human beings crash hastily into each other and a massive crowd of them bang against the door of the building across the street.

One staggers by and abruptly freezes, its knee popping as it turns, spotting the couple through the glass. Their eyes widen as the creature, followed by a few of its friends, begins to shuffle toward the restaurant.

"You ready?" Caleb asks, his voice shaken.

Samantha pops the magazine out of the gun, double checking the ammo, and slides the clip back in. She cocks it. "Let's do this."

They walk over to the door and he grabs onto the handle. He looks back at her with a forced smile. "Sorry we had to cut this short."

"You'll make it up to me next year." She smirks, leaning in to kiss him.

The bell above the door dings as Caleb tugs the door open, almost so fast that it rips off its hinges. They both turn to face the horde of savage creatures closing in on the building's entrance. Muffled groans of the undead, and several gunshots, echo throughout the streets of the Theater District.

On the roof of the restaurant, halfway underneath a worn tarp, is a small garden of red roses. Few are almost fully grown but most are just breaking through the mulch. It's just a matter of weeks now until there will be enough roses for Caleb to give his wife a bouquet.

And they say chivalry is dead.