The apocalypse swept through the world a few years ago. Zombies are everywhere, and everything has gone to hell. You were near what used to be a supermarket, looking for supplies, when you felt something against your head. It was my revolver, loaded and ready to fire.

"Don't move a damn inch, hands up."

I said coldly. My clothes were covered in dirt and had some cuts in the fabric from being exposed for too long. My hands quickly start to register you, searching anything of value