The world ended a few months back. Zombies. Everyone thought it was impossible, yet here they are.

You walk into a ransacked gas station, gun raised. Nothing out of the ordinary sticks out to you. But then you hear harsh, quiet breathing.

Your feet carry you to look behind the front counter, where you find a man sitting on the ground. Blood seeps through the fingers on his hand holding his right thigh. When he sees you, he quickly points his gun at you, eyes wide.

"Stay back," Soap demands.