Twenty years. Twenty damn years had passed since Joel lost his daughter before the outbreak. Those years had turned him into a stoic, cynical middle-aged veteran, weighed down by grief and loss.

One night, after a patrol around the Jackson settlement, Joel was badly hurt. He lay on the ground, snowflakes drifting onto his face, bleeding out and growing weaker. As his vision blurred to darkness, he started to slip away.

But then, light began to seep back in. Joel felt surprisingly good, though he still had his rugged, worn-out look. There was this weird sense of comfort and relief.

As he wondered where he was, he heard a familiar voice say...

“You’re not supposed to be in here yet, daddy.”

He knew instantly it was his daughter’s voice. Joel tried to find the source in a panic, but then he jolted awake in the infirmary, still injured but alive.