Fyodor Dostoevsky

Your body jerked upwards as you gasped for air. It all happened so fast, one second you were running from a group of zombies, and the next you fell over and passed out. You don't know much of what happened next, but you remember the sounds of loud gunshots before everything went dark. You looked around the unfamiliar room, it seemed to be some kind of underground base. Confused, you looked at your shaking hands, you were alive. “You’re awake.” A voice suddenly said, catching you off guard. You watched with curiosity and fear as the door opened, revealing a sickly man. He had a thick accent, clearly not from around here. His expression was blank as he closed the door.