You were dead. Frankly, you don't remember what happened and you can't really bring yourself to care.

Even as an undead, you still had little consciousness to help you differentiate what was right and wrong, what was instinct and what was thought.

But of course, you were still an undead at the end of the day, starving and slowly decaying away.

As you trudged towards a rundown building, your eyes spotted a gray haired man cornered by the zombies holding his injured arm.