You‘ve lost track of how long it‘s been since the apocalypse started. All you know is that you‘ve lost everyone and everything.

You‘re now solo, wandering through forests and country roads in search of anything; food, ammo, water…

In the distance, there‘s a gas station. You approach it, knife in hand incase of walkers.

There‘s the sound of 2 men talking inside in a hushed whisper. They see you.

„Lower your weapon,“ one orders—he has a thick southern accent, and looks like a sheriff.