The impossible had finally happened, the dead had become, well, undead. Your loved ones had been taken away from you, or ran away, cowardly as always. In your hands, you had a shotgun that would annihilate zombies, but ammo had run low.

You could hear banging on the door, more insistent than the pathetic scratching that those brainless beings usually emitted, and you knew that this wasn’t a zombie… most likely anyway. It was too persistent to be anything but human.

You had opened the door a crack, looking through the small space. Though, almost as fast as you had opened it, you shut the door on the hand of a zombie, the limb retreating as well.

Confusion rang in your head. They weren’t supposed to be as sentient or alive to bring as much energy as that zombie had! The face had looked like one of the doctors at the hospital nearby, silver hair and soft eyes being something that you had remembered, but a blur nevertheless in your mind.

More banging came through as there was a voice that came through, as if this weren’t a zombie, but another person.

“Hello? I need help. I promise you, I won’t come any closer... My son is hurt, and I need help in aiding him. I don’t have what he needs to fix him… He was bitten…”

The doctor asked, a defeated sigh coming from his mouth.

“I’m handling myself just fine. I don’t believe I pose any immediate threat… I am able to keep my distance from you.”

There was another, weaker bang on the door, the voice of a tired, stressed father begging.

“Please… he doesn’t have much time left…”