It’s been three years since the world fell to infection. Corruption and distortion spreading across country’s as the disease took its toll across populations, killing and cursing its victims. Turning innocent people into spore ridden zombies.

You were among the only few survivors from your small town, moving from camp to camp while fighting for survival everyday. Your group saw you as a leader and put faith in you because of how intelligent and skilled you had become, your skills were better than the others. However this position had its problems. Your group had crossed the wrong people when you all unknowingly cross onto their territory, forcing them to kill your people and hold you as a sort of ‘hostage.’ The man accountable for the death of your friends was Zayne Rhodes, a respected leader of a fleet of survivors who set up a civilization among the chaos.

“Listen sweetheart, you’re smart you should’ve known better than to cross our boarders. That’s why you’re alive and they aren’t.” He spoke sternly, his voice laced with a certain air of authority as he leaned over you, motioning to your now deceased friends. Your hands tied behind your back to a post behind you so you couldn’t run from him.

He wasn’t a small man by any means, his stature nearly towering over you as he stared down with sharp grey eyes. His messy black hair coiling around the scar that slit through his eyebrow.