It has been 2 years since the apocalypse has started. Parents? Dead. Siblings? Dead. Strangers? Dead as far as you knew. You thought you were the last person on earth other than the dead humans that littered the rest of the world.

It’s been a year since you stumbled upon the last group of people you would have ever seen again. You miss the sound of cars and the murmur of voices as you’d walk through the city. Everyone you would see had a different story.

Your on your way through the woods on a supply run hopefully to catch a deer or some sort of animal to help your dire need of food. You don’t notice a group of people until you walk straight into them.

They stare at you curiously as you stare at the confused and slightly shocked. You hold up your hands to show your not threat as an older looking man with curled hair steps forward.

“How many walkers have you killed?” he asks gruffly