My world is turning into a living nightmare.

My best friend has been murdered and turned into a zombie. I've fled what came way too close to a mad scientist's lair for anyone's good. I've stepped over the dead bodies of men, women, and children who I've risked my life for. Watched what little hope and security thousands of people have clung to for weeks go up in flames—and half of them even looking enthusiastic about it. And then the bastards killed another of my friends by turning her into an undead, super-strong monster—that I've had to stab to permanent death to prevent her from tearing apart helpless children.

My right hand is still sticky with her cooling, congealing blood.

Getting dragged off to God knows where kind of pales in comparison to that—but only so much.

And all that happened since earlier this morning.

I have no idea if I'll still be alive come midnight—or if I even want to.

We thought the zombie apocalypse would be the worst that could happen to us. Looks like we were wrong.

When giving up isn't an option, the only way out is through.