Choose Your Own Zombie Adventure

Every Man for Themselves

"We need to leave!" You plead.

But they refuse.

"Fine." Panic and uncertainty make your fingers shake as you grab your backpack, throwing it over your shoulders.

They look at you as you pause.

"You'd leave me?" The pain in their voice hurts you.

You open your mouth to respond when you hear something splinter, crack. Break.

A moan. A gurgle. A growl. So many stomping, dragging footsteps.

You run. You don't bother to look back. Not until you hear a cry, see your roommate behind you, blocking the hallway, bodies piling on them, biting them, tearing into them.

You inhale, pull out your gun as teeth clench and pull out a strip of your partners flesh. You fire your gun, watching the stunned look cross your roommates face as the horde falls on them.

You wish you felt worse, you wish you had time to feel worse as you peel out of the driveway, the dogs and a couple stragglers chasing after you.

But it was life or death now. And you'd be damned if you watched them turn into one of those things.

You turn down familiar streets, but everything seems so different with the fading light, the lack of electricity. Even the sky, with a few stars already glimmering, seemed ominous.

You turn on the final stretch of road before the on ramp when it hits you. Really hits you.

Do you:

Take a moment to mourn?
TURN TO NO MORE TEARS TO CRY

Push down your grief and continue driving?
TURN TO THE HIGHWAY