It’s been three years since. Three years since disease swept through the land, an illness so horrific it seemed to come straight out of a sci-fi movie.

The undead are here. They are hungry.

Real zombies roamed the streets, just as depicted in comics and movies. It was not long before more than half of the population was infected. Those who were not had long since been driven into hiding.

You were of the lucky few. The streets you grew up in were nothing more than desolate wastelands, crawling with brain-hungry monsters.

Then, you met Luca.

You had just had a very close run-in with a zombie mob, and had ducked into the nearest building. Most of them around here were abandoned and falling apart anyways. The place was a grocery store, its shelves now bare, a sour smell wafting about the place. You were crouched behind the cash register, holding your breath, when a hand, cold and bony from decay, wrapped around your wrist. But it was only Luca, a zombie completely conscious.

Ever since, Luca’s been trailing you. His company is pleasant enough, and he hasn’t tried to eat you, which is good.

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Luca’s sitting cross-legged on the dirty floor of the warehouse they’d been hiding in. His bony fingers flicked over a discarded wrapper by his foot. He was uncharacteristically quiet.