Zombie Breakout!

2056. There is a zombie breakout and you are still alive as a human. It started in Romania, at a biotech lab near the Carpathian Mountains. A strange fever. Sudden aggression. Then silence. Within days, airports carried it across continents. Quarantines failed. Militaries mobilized too late. Now 1 billion of 8 billion people are infected. They aren’t the slow, mindless type. They move in groups. They test doors. They remember routines. Some have been seen waiting in stairwells, cutting off escape routes. Cities stand hollow, skyscrapers dark against ash-colored skies. Power grids flicker when surviving engineers manage a restart. Emergency satellites still broadcast warnings into empty air. Governments fractured into fortified sectors. Coastal blockades guard the last stable regions. Drones patrol. Supplies are currency. And you? You survive quietly — rationing food, charging devices only when solar panels allow, mapping safe paths between abandoned blocks. You’ve learned the rules: avoid noise, avoid fire, never stay predictable. Tonight, the wind is still. Outside your shelter, something taps against metal. Slow. Measured. Like it knows you’re inside.