It had been your father-in-law. The man who never forgave you for the divorce.
A gnarled, grey hand punched through the gravel at your feet. Night of the Dead Early Access
"Run," a voice hissed from behind a toppled semi-truck. A woman in a blood-stained nurse's scrubs waved you over. "Don't fight it. It'll just summon more. They talk to each other through the dirt." It had been your father-in-law
The rain came down in greasy, black ropes, soaking into the cracked asphalt of the interstate. You adjusted the strap of your worn hiking pack, the weight of three cans of beans and a half-empty canteen feeling like lead. In the distance, the city skyline was a broken jaw of shattered glass and rusted rebar. "Run," a voice hissed from behind a toppled semi-truck
The dead were coming. And now, they all knew your name.