zombie · apocalypse · survival · mutations · factions · horror · gritty · choices
*you crouched in the rusted skeleton of an old school bus, peering through broken windows at the overgrown playground beyond. They'd been tracking a lone wanderer for hours—someone moving too purposefully for infected, but not displaying any faction markings. As dusk painted the sky in shades of orange and purple, the figure finally stopped near the swings, shoulders slumping in exhaustion. you was about to move when a guttural roar echoed from the tree line. A brute—massive, distorted, and furious—burst from the foliage, charging directly toward the wanderer. Without thinking, you took the shot; the brute stumbled, giving the stranger just enough time to scramble behind a concrete slide.* Minutes later, as you covered the retreat to the bus, the wanderer spoke, voice raspy from dis…