**We are outnumbered...
The virus has completely devastated over 150 of the world's major regions and is spreading rapidly.
At this point in time we know of only one method of killing the creatures: destroy the brain.
Be on the guard of any loved ones who may have recently been in any sort of contact could be infected.
And if you find yourself out in a threatening position, please do not hesitate to act.
Again.
This is not a test.
This is not a joke.
We as a species are overwhelmed.**
I woke up too the dark with a taste of metal in my mouth. My head felt like a drill had been forced through it several times. Okay...get yourself together, I thought the hell was I? I was about to get up, when I heard several gunshots muffled from the outside of whatever I was in. I have to get out of here! I panicked. I heaved myself off of a bed-like structure, feeling a tickling pain under my palm on my wrist when I saw a reflection of blood protruding out of a IV tube hooked up to a life support monitor, dead without power. Shit, am I in a hospital? Screams echoed outside as I hobbled near the door, and found myself facing a sign stating "Warm-brook Emergency Room-Authorized Personal Only". I looked around in the cold, dimly lit empty hallways and shuddered with every foot under the muggy, blood stained tiles that covered the floor. I headed the opposite direction of the sign until I saw a dead end, with two heavily barricaded doors named "South Wing". I attempted to pry off the nails and bolts, peeking through the wire reinforced windows... And saw silhouettes of dark figures at the end of the corridor, hunched over a bag? No, that wasn't it.I squinted my eyes to try to get a better look, and- "What the he-" I screeched as a cold, heavy hand grasped my shoulder with a tight lock.
Whatever it was it tried to wrestle me into submission, and after being weak and tired after god knows amount of days on medication or whatever-the-hell they did to me, I just couldn't fight back.
"If you want to live, keep you're mouth shut, and stay low," A raspy voice whispered inches from my ear. "Or else you are better off dead."
I wrestled his left hand away from covering my mouth, and managed a short reply. "Where the hell am I? What the hell are those things? Where is everybody?"
That's when the hooded figure pistol whipped the back of my head, and stars gathered around my peripheral vision as everything became black.
"Jesus (name) are ya sure ya didn't clonk the fella too hard?" A southern voice said sarcastically, then it got serious. "Did you even search him? See if he was infected? I didn't even send you on a rescue mission for Pete's Sake, a flipping looting mission, and this is what you bring back."
The deeper voice that hit me earlier spoke up, "For you're information, I did check him. He had nothing on him, and wasn't a threat, not even one of 'em. All he was going to do was make noise, and I thought he might know a thing or few about what the hell is going on."
I grumbled around when after they ended the conversation; pushing my bruised head off of a pillow, courteous of the company I was with; to reveal a dimly lit apartment, and two guys sitting around a mahogany table a couple feet away. They must of heard me shift, when the redneck looking guy I assumed with the southern accent got up and strolled over.
"Hey look, he's awake."
"From what I could tell, hes been awake for a couple minutes now. Pretending to sleep, right?" When I turned my head towards the other man that had spoken, I realized he was donning a thick, black, trench coat, a beret, and a huge rifle slung across his shoulder.
Who the fuck are these guys? I thought. Was I kidnapped?
"Now we can do this the hard way, or the easy way. You can tell us who the hell you are or we can leave you back where we found you, 'kay?" Redneck said.
I tried really hard to remember who I was at that point. It was blurry, and if I thought about it too much, I developed a headache of sorts.
"He's got nothing. He's got none of the signs of infection, and he doesn't know a damn about them Walkers, so what the hell do we do with him?"
"We can't just leave him, so we'll have to keep him. Though he may be a liability, so if things get hectic, we leave him, got it?" The redneck said sternly.
"Got it."
"Do you always ask so many damn questions? Because if you do, I'm just going to shoot you now." Trench-coat-guy said as he walked around the curtain-pulled windows, glancing down at an at-least a twenty-story building looming over a suburban looking area that stretched into the horizon.
"It shouldn't be so silent. What the hell is going on?" I almost said 'And yes, I do ask questions when I don't know a damn about anything that has happened in the last year or two, there's not a person in sight, and there's those creepy-ass things mumbling around outside.'
He replied, "My guess is that some flipping government bio-project gone to hell. That's 'prolly why they ditched is and saved there own arses as soon as it hit major-populated cities."
"Then why do the two of you look so prepared?"
"I don't know. Rick there, that's the crazy paranoid redneck by the way, owned an armory of weapons at the gun shop and pawn on 22nd."
"Why would he do that?"
"Probably because his house was broken into and his wife and children were murdered, and he doesn't want to lose anymore folk. So when theses maggot filled walking sacks started appearing in the streets, he was prepared. But we try to relocate often, so don't get too comfortable resting here, okay? Were going to move soon."