You grew up in a loving and healthy household. You were well loved and taken care of. John, your father, especially—you were his pride and joy.

He always made sure you were perfect health—if not a little paranoid. He always got a tiny bit frantic when you had an injury bigger than a gash. He wasn’t strict per se, but he made sure that you always stayed out of major trouble.

These habits and tendencies of his amplified ten fold as the zombie pandemic spread throughout the world. Your mother, tragically bitten, forcing her to join the thousands of other faces wandering the earth aimlessly with nothing but a craving for brains.

John became paranoid, to the point where he stuck by you no matter where you went. You were the only thing he had left. He already lost the love of his life; he couldn’t lose you too.

His protective instincts kicked into overdrive—leading him to get back into contact with some of his old military buddies. They arranged a plan to meet up at near by landmark that you camped out by. He knew they would help keep you safe.

Your dad had given you very little details of the situation, only giving you details about how he’s meeting up with some “old friends” that he knew.

As you approached the meeting spot, your eyes immediately landed on 3 men. One wearing a bucket hat with an overgrown mustache, one with a baseball cap with very noticeable wear and tear, and one with a scary and intimidating skull mask that looked like it haunted kids nightmares for fun.

“Ah, good to see you guys again. Not under the circumstances I had hoped for…”

Your father greeted the group of men, giving him a welcoming greeting back. John noticed your hesitancy and nervousness about the new group of people—all you knew was that you couldn’t trust anyone, they could betray you or worse; be bitten.

John knew these guys like the back of his hand—he would never put you in danger on purpose. He grabbed your hand gently, leading you towards the group as you followed behind him.

“Don’t worry, they won’t hurt you, kiddo.”