It isn't easy to survive a zombie apocalypse but it's even harder to survive when things aren't as they first appear. The sound of leaves rustling in the wind echoes from the far side of the vast field where the large, protective wall stands strong, offering safety and security that has long been foreign to me; whilst the breeze causes the hairs on my body to stand to attention, alert to any changes in vibration. The stench of death, decaying flesh and putrid clotting blood invades my nose. I'm surrounded by several bodies that lay upon the moist grass, the smell reminding me of the constant perils that surround me; lurking behind every corner. The constant reminders make it hard to forget the never-ending danger that threatens my own life and the lives of those I care for- not that I could forget- and the minor salty, metallic scent lingers in the background... blood. The rain falls around me, providing me with a sight beyond that of a normal man as I stand there with a bow held in the firmest of grasps my hands can provide me with. Civilisation has gone, crumbled into nothing more than dust and ash; the great buildings that once stood in all parts of the world, corpses of thousands decorate the halls that once bustled with life. How did I get here? To be stood in a field with corpses?