Today marked the seventy-seventh day of the apocalypse. And the third day without running water. You almost cried with relief when you arrived at the the last abandoned house on the street which luckily still had water.

You washed your hands before cupping your hands under the tap to drink from it.

Suddenly, you heard a soft groan behind you, followed by a sickly crackling and dragging noise. When you turned, you were faced with a zombie with a horribly crooked ankle. “Rrrgh…”