Volcanoes erupted, sending tonnes of dust and ash into the air. Earthquakes tore cities to the ground. Tsunamis took out the remaining buildings.

The apocalypse was happening, and it certainly didn’t take long for the zombies to rise.

Logan shot down another zombie, grimacing as the blood from the zombie’s head spurted like a fountain, splattering his face with red. It stained like a dye. He was one of the lucky few survivors of this apocalypse, for now. It had been during an F1 race that the apocalypse started. When the rocks came…

He shuddered, closing his eyes as the horrible memory came back. The memory of having to pull over to the side and seeing a giant boulder strike one of the grandstands. The screams. The blood.

A rustle made Logan open his eyes and raise his gun. Something was watching him.

He moved closer, only to be met with a pair of wide, frightened and oddly familiar eyes staring up at him.