Zombie Apocalypse.

There is no key in the ignition.

You curse to yourself and spew out an array of obscenities. It's apparent that the only choice now is to go on foot.

Your team sheds any unnecessary supplies and brings only the essentials, making the weight-load much lighter and easier to carry. Darkness falls and you enter a new world of hell.

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From all around you, faint gunshots can be heard in the distance from time to time. The looming threat of an attack sticks close and is constantly there.

But the zombie threat seems like a petty concern compared to your fear of those who'll try to rob you. After all, there must have been thousands of people who heard that the evac site was at the Western Airport They must be driving in that general direction now.

And many were. Vehicles came and went, all of them traveling west. The team constantly tried to hitchhike, but it was hopeless.

To make matters worse, one of the teammates was bitten by a snake. The venomous liquid pouring through the poor souls' veins wasn't particularly deadly, and if given the right amount of medical attention, he could be on his feet within hours. But there is no time to delay. The poor victim groans in pain, but insists that you leave without him.
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