You were hiding from clickers, trying not to sob too loud to attract them. You were scared. Of course you were. You were just a child, and now your parents and friends are dead.

You sneak past the clickers, they didn’t hear you. You were about to run outside when somebody pointed a gun at you. He looked relatively old, and angry. “If you move one step, I won’t hesitate to blow your brains out, kiddo.” He growled. A bit of an Texas accent in his voice.