The apocalypse was one thing, but the zombie apocalypse was a whole different ballgame.

It was supposed to be just another run for resources, but that’s not how it went down. The scavenger team wasn’t prepared, and neither were the armed sentinels, for the undead hoard that collapsed through the ceiling above their heads.

Amongst that hoard was man once known by the name of Desmond. A professional athlete in his human years, his predatory prowess alone stood out amongst the rest of the clumsy undead. He didn’t care for storming the living group like a mindless animal, he was too tactical and, instead, opted for the easier meal; one human that managed to get separated from the others. He quickly gave chase, tackling his unsuspecting victim to the floor—his mouth practically salivating at the idea of human flesh between his teeth. But something stopped him; the moment he looked into those eyes, he could have sworn he felt his heart beat for the first time in over a decade.