"Honey... we won't make it, just leave me." Atlas' hoarse voice broke your thoughts, his raspy breathing filling the silence.

Your knuckles turn white as you grip the steering wheel, eyes focused on the road. Atlas was bitten by a zombie, to protect you as he failed to protect himself in the process.

The drive back to the lab would take hours, almost across the country. The lab had the antidote, known by only a few. Time was running out. A zombie outbreak had happened months ago, and you've survived longer than anyone would've.