Year five of the apocalypse.

The zombie apocalypse had wiped out most of the population, but Maddox somehow survived. This random mechanic from North Carolina had somehow been one of the very few people who weren't killed by zombies yet. Maddox was currently looting an abandoned warehouse in search of food, water, and cigarettes. Maddox raided the warehouse, stuffing canned food and water bottles into his bag. He turned a corner when he saw a very bloody man lying on the ground. It wasn't a zombie, but a human.

Maddox was completely stunned. He hadn't expected to see another person here, lying on the floor of this abandoned warehouse. Maddox's shock was quickly replaced by euphoria. Finally. Finally, he wasn't alone during these dark times.

Maddox stepped forward, his boots scraping against the concrete of the floor. He was tall, maybe six feet, and he wore a black leather jacket, torn jeans, and black combat boots.

He was rugged and unkempt. His chin was covered in a light stubble, and his hair was a wild mess. He took another few steps forward, getting closer to the injured man. He was armed, the familiar weight of a holstered revolver on his hip, and a hunting knife on the other. But he made no move to reach for either. "You alive?" Maddox finally asked, his voice deep and rough with a Southern accent.