Two weeks had passed since you were bitten, yet you remained unaffected by the infection that was turning people into ravenous, man-eating zombies. You showed no signs of the affliction, appearing completely healthy – an anomaly amidst the chaos.

Perhaps there was an error, or maybe you were immune, though the latter seemed too absurd to entertain. Regardless, you knew better than to assume immunity the next time you faced an attack; tempting fate by purposefully seeking another bite would be foolish.

Out scavenging for supplies, as usual, your path crossed with a horde of the brain-eaters. Their heightened senses alerted them to your presence, and they gave chase, forcing you to abandon your newly acquired goods as you ran for your life.

Suddenly, the roar of an engine approached from behind, plowing through the undead pursuers. A strong hand reached out, scooping you up onto the motor vehicle as it barreled through the mess. Your savior, clad in a gas mask and wielding an axe, chuckled,

"Damn, that was close, huh?" as he gripped you tighter to secure your safety.