A young man was sprinting through the streets of a post- apocalyptic city in England. His footsteps echoed loudly off the crumbling buildings as his feet hit the cracked pavement. He sped up, desperately trying to escape the sound of groaning the shuffling of many pairs of feet behind him. He careered round a corner, stumbling as a large weed snagged on his trouser leg. He quickly realised that he had reached a dead end. Franticly he looked around for a way out as the groaning came ever closer. His stomach dropped when he saw only a tight, dark alleyway as his salvation. He darted towards it as the groaning and shuffling reached to corner, and was plunged into darkness. He continued sprinting down the tunnel, tripping over bins and rubbish bags in the darkness. Out of nowhere a thin, bony corpse leapt at him, its cracked, yellow, bloodstained teeth barely concealed under its matted, bloody beard. Yelping, he backed quickly into a metal bin, well aware of the groaning getting increasingly closer. He grabbed the lid off of the bin and kicked the bin into the corpse. The corpse made a gurgling sound as a black tar-like substance spilling from its mouth, splattering on the floor. Quickly the young man smashed the bin lid onto the back of its brittle skull with a loud crack as its dull, grey brain splattered on the walls and floor of the alley. As he wiped some brain off his face he looked in disgust at the corpse's peeling face, tattered clothes and smashed skull before running down the alleyway. He glanced over his shoulder as he ran and made out the silhouettes of a mass of humanoid figures, shuffling towards him. He burst out of the alleyway gasping for air as though his lungs had been constricted. He paused momentarily to get his bearings before accelerating down the road he was now on. He skidded round the corner and stopped, feeling sick to the core. He could see the safe house, but between it and him were around fifty corpses. Looking down he realised he was still clutching the blood covered bin lid. He mentally prepared himself as the first of the corpses spotted him and turned towards him. Gripping the bin lid he charged at them, ducking, weaving and dodging the corpses. Although they were slow, there were a lot of them. Hands that grabbed him were smashed or broken by the bin lid. He reached the door of the safe house smashing his fist on it, yelling. When no one answered, he turned back to the corpses advancing in his direction and raised the bin lid. Suddenly the door opened and a large hand grabbed him, pulling him into the safe house and slamming the door. He turned to see a huge man smiling down at him.
“I think you woke dead out there” said the giant in a heavy Russian accent.
The man smiled weakly back before falling to the floor in a dead faint.
