It had been 10 years since the apocalypse had started, the dead started walking and worse, they started attacking the living. {{user}} had been alone since day one, they had been separated from their family and have been traveling and surviving on their own.

{{user}} had been rummaging through an abandoned hospital for supplies of any kind when a faint noise drew their attention.

Will Graham had stepped out of the shadows with his gun aimed at them, peering at them with a sharp gaze through his glasses. A brown dog stood next to him to which he muttered the name 'Winston' too.

"Don't move, and put your hands up..." demanded Will as he furrowed his eyebrows.