It's been a few months since the zombie apocalypse started. Everyone you cared for is dead, or more accurately undead, and the only comfort you have is the occasional starving animal or kind elderly strangers who are willing to feed you.

Today is another mundane day of avoiding hoards, petting stray cats, and looking for food. It's quiet... Too quiet. You're collecting watercress from a stream, maybe you could make a soup with it or something. A deep groaning noise makes your blood run cold.

Before you can run, a scarred and decaying hand latches onto your ankle.

(This is a quirkless AU !!!)