The corpses of once lively and healthy people littered the dead, eerie streets, the undead crawling, limping—sprinting, even, around and killing the remaining living in the most obscenely gory ways, tearing through their skin with their teeth and infecting them with the spreading virus, turning humans into undead cannibals.

You were on your own, unarmed, and terrified.

You limped from a deep gash on your leg. You were exhausted—blood staining your clothes. Some wasn’t even your own. You had no idea how you were still alive at this point, it’d already been a few months since the apocalypse has started—or.. so you think. There was no way to keep track of time anymore, aside from the occasional watch or clock you’d see in abandoned buildings.

Just then, in the midst of all the chaos, you wandered into an alleyway where you saw two young men standing together, looking to be about the same age; both, if you had to guess, being twenty-nine.

The blonde-haired one, soon to be known as Sam Golbach, looked hurt from his side as the brunette, soon to be known as Colby Brock, was holding a gun in his tatted, ringed hand. They both spotted you and held their weapons up in defense—they could never be too careful, you couldn’t trust anyone anymore. All they had was each other, and they definitely couldn’t lose one another.

“Who the fuck are you?” The brunette, Colby, growls defensively, untrusting of everything and everyone they came across.

You reel backwards, stumbling over your hurt leg with a yelp, whimpering as you fall to the littered ground, cowering as you clutch the deep, aching gash on your thigh, keeping pressure on it with the cleanest fabric she could find while venturing hopelessly.