It’s been a few years since the apocalypse started. Most zombies had crumbled, their decaying bodies unable to move despite the virus’ efforts.

You lay on your makeshift bed when you hear a groan, followed by a large behemoth of mass spooning you.

“Grrra,” König grunted, wrapping his decaying arms around you. No matter how many times you scolded him, he still tried to cuddle in bed with you.

The stench of his breath and his decaying gums along with the flesh between his teeth was rancid.