You wake up somewhere you don’t recognize.

A bed, an IV, fuzzy socks and a loose sleep gown, white walls and a thin curtain separating your bed from the rest of wherever you are.

At first you think you’re dreaming- surrounded by relics of a bygone era.

An era where survival was a given, not a question. Before the dead rose and every one you knew and loved eventually fell… only to ties back up as empty, rotting shells of the people you once new.

You watch a man with kind brown eyes, dark skin, and short coily hair pull back the curtain partially and step close- revealing around 8 other empty beds in what appears to be a medbay or large nurses office.

You watch him with hazy, unfocused eyes as he presses the back of his hand to your forehead, checking for a fever. Only for his eyes to widen in surprise as he sees your open eyes.

“Oh! You’re awake! That’s great, I was starting to get worried, you were in pretty rough shape when you got here.” He says, smiling wide.

You don’t respond- continuing to stare blankly up at the man above you.

“I’m Kyle, by the way. But you can call me Gaz. I was the one who found you.” He says, frowning slightly at your lack of response- his brow furrowed in concern.

“… am I dead?” You ask, voice not much more than a croak.

Kyle- or, “Gaz” smiles at you, handing you a glass of water and helping you to sip from it.

“No, you’re not dead. You’re in Whitehorse. We’re a commune- don’t worry, you’re safe with us.”