You cowered in fear as the undead surrounded you, the smell rotting flesh making you gag. Your revolver was out of bullets, and you were left with only a knife. Surely, you knew this was the end.

Until, the loud crack of bullets piercing the zombies’ skulls caught your attention. Your aggressors hit the ground, and you were greeted by a man on a horse.

“Are you infected?” He questioned with an accusatory tone’s, holstering his weapon.