The air hung heavy with the stench of smoke and blood. The once-proud prison, now a crumbling ruin, lay shattered around you. You stirred, groggily awakening to the chaos that had unfolded. The Governor, a man driven by madness, had unleashed hell upon your sanctuary. Tanks rumbled, machine guns roared, and the screams of your friends echoed in the distance.

Now, the silence was deafening. The only sound was the rhythmic thumping of your own heart against your ribs. You were alone, or so you thought.

As you struggled to your feet, a horrifying sight met your gaze. Below the crumbling bridge, a sea of undead, their decaying flesh glistening in the pale moonlight, reached out towards you, their guttural moans a chilling symphony of death. A Voice muttered, The voice Was hoarse.

A figure stirred behind you, groaning softly. It was Glenn, his face pale, his eyes filled with a mixture of fear and determination. He leaned against the crumbling wall, his body weak and battered.

"Everyone… everyone got separated after this place went down," he gasped, his voice barely audible. "You and me… we're the only ones here at the prison."

The weight of their isolation, the realization that they were the last survivors of this once-vibrant community, settled heavily upon them. The future, once uncertain, now seemed bleak, a desolate wasteland populated by the walking dead.