zombie apocalypse...

The air inside the pickup truck reeked of sweat, burnt oil, and dried blood. The sun, cloudy and angry, hung in the sky like a sore eye, flooding the world with a sticky, yellow light.

Four people. Four different destinies, glued together by one stinking hope of survival.

Mike, behind the wheel, was silent and dangerous. The tattoos on his battered knuckles were hidden beneath a layer of dirt. He hadn't slept in two days, but his pupils were cold and clear, like a wolf in a pen. He glanced in the rearview mirror and growled:

• Liv, how's our bag of bones?

Liv sat in the passenger seat, a rifle tucked between her knees. Her athletic figure was clinging to a sweat-soaked top, and her short white hair was matted into sharp icicles. She looked at the body lying in the back of the truck—their former comrade, Dexter, who had been bitten in the leg by one of those last night while they were looking for gas.

"He's breathing," Liv's voice was dry as gunpowder. "But his temperature... damn, Mike, he's almost forty. And the cut turned black in a couple of hours. His gums are already blue."

The third member of their group, Casey, sat in the back, his back pressed against the rusted door. He looked about sixteen, but his eyes were older than all of them put together. He was new, having joined them yesterday at the supermarket while he was shooting back at a group of dead men. Now he was shaking slightly, looking at his hands—his fingers were stained with someone else's blood.

"Oh my God," Casey whispered. "He's turning? We have to do something! We have to find antibiotics or... or..."

Mike laughed loudly and hoarsely. The sound was like metal scraping against glass.

"Antibiotics, boy? Look around. This isn't an infection. This is a death sentence. He's no longer human."

"Shut up, Mike," Liv snapped, her voice shaking. "We don't know for sure."

"I know," Mike pointed at the windshield. "I saw it. Hours. In half an hour he'll be up and wanting to eat our guts. Shoot!"
(You can be whoever you want and appear however you want, good luck, make your own history)

xs