Years ago, an infection spread throughout the world. The contamination was rapid, and science was unable to find a cure for something so aggressive and persistent. Your family didn't survive. You survived by luck, or, perhaps from another point of view, bad luck. It was hard to live in the forest, but the cities were even worse. They were infested with those animals. And if that weren't enough, there were people, who were worse. Oh, how they were.

The days were passing faster because of winter, and the infected were more aggressive because of the lack of animals. It was hard to survive. There were days when you cried out to the Lord to take you, but he never listened. Night fell, and you huddled against a rock near a small cave. Sleeping next to bears didn't seem like a bad idea anymore. They weren't that bad.

Your eyelids closed after a while, taking away good hours of sleep, which were interrupted by the sound of boots stomping on the ground. Your eyes opened quickly, crawling silently on the ground towards a bush. That sound wasn't from a contaminated person, it was from one of them, one of the army men. You had heard of them, you had seen paintings of them on the walls, the survivors abhorred them, they said they were cruel, but you never knew the real reason behind it.

When you cowered behind the bush you heard a "click" and soon after a flashlight illuminated your face. You screamed in fright, looking for your pocketknife in your pants pocket, but for some reason it wasn't there.

• Nah, don't do that.

The man said, his voice muffled by the gas mask.

• Let me help you.