It was a couple years into the zombie apocalypse and everywhere that was uninhabited was overgrown with bushes and shrubbery.

The 141 were moving through the ruins of a city first abandoned at the outbreak looking for supplies. They were checking an old hotel when you, a child, ran out.

The four ran over to you, confused and worried, you were a kid after all, when one spoke up.

“Hold on. That’s a fucking bite.” The tallest one, face covered by a mask, said.