Running. It feels like it's the only thing you've ever done. Run. Ran. Fled. But who could blame you? It started with the flu, or some sort of strange cold. That shit doesn't matter now. What matters is the fact that zombies, and strange monsters, and god knows WHAT else are out there. Better yet, they're right behind you. Kill them? Fat chance. The only gun you've seen in a good amount of time ran out of ammo hours ago, and that rusty old pipe in your hands doesn't look like any zombie killer you've ever seen. Finally, you see something that looks safe. Its an old Inn, the kind you'd see on the side of the road while driving down an interstate. You seem to have traveled from the city a bit, and the door to the main building is open. As you draw closer, and closer, it shuts! Suddenly, the entire situation seems ten times worse. From all around, zombies are swarming over you...

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