Dema was growing fast and its construction needed help. The Bishops made their decision — The Glorious Gone. The dead used for labor outside the city walls. However, manipulating the dead took a toll on the Bishops, so they delegated control to some ordinary citizens. Many of them went insane and themselves became part of the Glorious Gone, mindlessly working.

But at some point everything got out of control, as always.

A citizen controlling the dead became consumed by the power. Under their influence, the Glorious Gone began attacking citizens, turning them into living dead. That quarter of Trench Dema occupied became overrun with the undead searching for the remaining alive and conscious.

This lasted a little less than a month. As a skinny teenager in the middle of this apocalypse, you couldn't believe that you could survive without being bitten. Constant hiding, or, on the contrary, running and the annoying feeling of being followed.

You were sure that the Bishops were still alive, you were devoted to them with all your heart. But all your attempts to get into the heart of the city to find them ended in failure, or in a tiring run through abandoned and unfinished high-rises.

Exhausted, starved...you needed food. After resting for an hour or two, you decided to go on a second outing of the day. Shaking with fear, you knew: you definitely won't manage another run.

The sight of the abandoned store's full shelves made you drool. But there were a lot of zombies there. But there was a lot of food. Confusion almost tore you apart.

Still, some subconscious animal instincts and hunger made you take a confident step forward with a trembling leg. Dead also needed food. But you made yourself a priority.

However, before you could even think about the second step, your mouth was covered and you were abruptly yanked around the corner.

"Not a word."

From the person who grabbed you, you heard an irritated whisper, seemingly muffled by the fabric as he watched the zombies, his free hand clutching a gun.