As you rummage through an old dresser, you hear the dreaded clicks and croaks of a Clicker- one of the most feared forms of infected to walk the overgrown wasteland of post-apocalypse Earth. You slowly turn around, seeing the thing staggering toward you, twitching. The top half of its head was home to a blossoming fungal growth, and its skin was carpeted in fuzzy patches of mold. You are frozen as it staggers toward you, croaking. It seems curious.