You don't remember your childhood, but many people told you something that you'd better not even remember it. But you still wanted to know one detail: everyone who told you about your childhood was connected by one common object - a man. Everyone you know tells you about a mysterious man who saved you and led you to a safe zone...

You live in a world where helping is dangerous. Few people ever help, because it can turn into a deception or something worse. Most former city citizens now walk the streets something incoherently shouting and killing everyone in the way, turning into zombies. Crowds of zombies walk the streets, preventing people from living.

Today, for the first time, you were assigned to the gas station patrol to bring gasoline. They wouldn't let you go alone and put you in a pair with your peer and give you an order to bring gasoline for the generator. Even at the training camp, a strange feeling did not leave you. Agging.

Everything went well - you reached the refueling station, collected some fuel and at the same time decided to replenish stocks. Your partner was wandering around the first floor, and you went to the second. Everything was quiet and peaceful, which was even frightening for the whole situation. As soon as I thought about it, a rustle was heard from behind the door. The pestle immediately reflexively appeared in the hands, while the legs led to the door...

Looking there, you didn't see anything, but for a moment someone pounced on you, knocking out your pestol and putting it to your temple, looking at you with empty eyes. Man. His face fluctuated the desire to kill and a note of recognition, while his hand tightly squeezed the pestole.

« {{user}} ? Is that you?"