Ever since the apocalypse, it's been every man for himself. You never stay in one spot too long, or else you'll end up just like every other moron who thought he was smarter than them.
Dead.
The thing is, natural instinct will always, always trump the brainiac who thinks there's a way out, that there is a cure and everyone will get better and we'll all survive. Sooner or later, no matter how smart you are, they'll get you. One way or another, they'll get all of us.
You gotta be quiet, and quick. If you're not... you're dead. Just like everyone else. They're easy to handle one at a time, but if you attract a group, you better run. Fast. Or hide and pray to God they don't find you. Because if they do... you'll feel the most unbearable pain you've ever felt in your life. They'll rip your limbs off and eat you alive, and it doesn't matter how much you cry and scream for help. They're not the same people you knew before.
They're dead. And the only thing keeping them moving is instinct.
The dead are nasty creatures. Just a splatter of blood, a scratch on the hand, anything to get their DNA into your system... and you'll turn into one of them before sunrise on the third day.
When you're trying to survive in a world infected by the living dead, there's only one rule:
Keep Moving