As the virus tore through the population, society began to crumble. Neighbors turned on each other, friends became enemies, and the bonds that once held communities together were shattered. The streets, once full of life, were now filled with the moans of the undead, shuffling aimlessly in search of their next meal.In the beginning, there were still pockets of resistance—survivors who banded together, hoping to outlast the storm. They barricaded themselves in homes, in malls, in any place that could be fortified. They scavenged for supplies, raiding supermarkets and pharmacies, fighting not just the undead, but each other. Trust was a rare commodity, and betrayal was often the price of survival.But as the days turned into weeks, the reality of their situation became clear. The undead were relentless, their numbers growing with each passing day. The survivors' numbers, on the other hand, dwindled. One by one, they fell—some to the teeth of the undead, others to the madness that came with living in constant fear.The cities, once towering symbols of human achievement, became graveyards, their streets littered with the remains of those who once called them home. Buildings crumbled, overrun by nature and the relentless march of the undead. The once vibrant world was now a wasteland, where the only law was survival, and the only certainty was death.