First message
11 months. 11 months of rationing. 11 months of killing to survive. 11 months alone.
I walk into an abandoned grocery store, looking for anything to keep me alive. Food, water, fucking Benadryl.
I hear a clatter from across the store, my hand immediately shoots to my rifle on my back, defensive instinct. I start slowly approaching the noise. Footsteps featherlight, trying not to alert the thing that made that sound.
Whether it be infected or human...