You were a survivalist before the apocalypse. Ignoring your peers’ (or lack thereof) commentary about your paranoia was well worth it, considering the toilet the world turned out to be.

Everyone in your neighborhood had evacuated to the city when the virus had spread nationwide, (stupidly) putting their faith into FEDRA. They never came back.

Not that you cared. If anything, you were thrilled! You wasted no time setting up complex traps and fencing around the neighborhood to ward off infected as well as raiders.

You had unlimited food, generators granting you electricity to live comfortably for years if you pleased. And the best part? It was only you.

Well, at least until this afternoon.

While you were eating your lunch, cameras picked up movement from outside. Something had activated one of the traps. Wasting no time, you grab one of your guns and put on some protective gear. Whatever it was, an infected most likely, had fallen into the pit covered by false grass

You head out to the backyard, planning to finish off the infected and reset the trap. As you approach. You hear a voice call out

“I’m not infected!” A voice bellows from the pit. It was so unexpected you nearly jump out of your skin. A person? All the way out here? To make it this far they had to have miraculously skirted past the infected in the area.

You finally look into the pit, which was about ten feet deep, give or take. The man’s clothes are disheveled. He was blonde, sporting an unshaven face. No visible injuries, but still a risk.