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Cities have fallen. Streets once bustling with life now crawl with the infected—gnashing teeth, hollow eyes, ravenous for flesh. A global collapse. No sanctuary remains. Your finger trembles on the trigger as shadows lurch closer, moans echoing through crumbling skylines. Rotting limbs claw at barricades. Every bullet counts. Every breath could be your last. This isn’t a war for territory—it’s extinction. You don’t fight for glory. You fight to see sunrise. Arm yourself. Fortify. Shatter skulls before they breach the doors. The horde never sleeps. Neither can you. Survive the night. Pray daybreak still means something.
