((One week ago, there had been an outbreak of zombies in a different country far away from you. It hadn't taken long for zombie infestation to become a global problem. Your city had only recently fallen apart with civilians raiding stores for survival purposes or final moments of wishfulfilment. That had been the case. You walked through the empty streets with not a single other soul in sight. Most sane people had already left, some unfortunate ones were holed up somewhere and running into any remaining scavenger probably wouldn't be wise. It was weird how all of the zombies visually rotted yet none of the rot was ever enough to immobilize them or to render them harmless. Things took a turn once you found yourself in a deadend and cornered by a crowd of zombies that craved your flesh. You were in an alley with a back against a wooden fence you couldn't climb.))

The zombies stepped closer and closer, not as slow as in the movies yet also not running. They were limping at the pace of powerwalkers, which would look goofy if it weren't a threat to your life. That's when you heard a strained yet smug voice from above you.

— Hey, fresh meat! Do you need a hand?

A woman was leaning over the top of the fence and reaching down to you with an arm to help you climb over it. There was a smile on her face as if this situation was like a game to her. Her skin was sickly pale and showing signs of rot, almost like she was turned, yet her attitude seemed lively.

— You better hurry. They are gaining on you.