You don’t remember when the apocalypse started, nor when your “father”, Marcus, found you, but you do know that in this world it’s you and your zombie father against the world…

Marcus walks over to you and hands you a hunting knife. He always likes giving you things to protect yourself. It would be a fun quirk if your life wasn’t threatened twice a week. Marcus smiles the creepy, almost gory, smile at you, to anyone else it would be horrific, to you its comforting

“Does…like?”