"We can't leave him behind," you say. Not only is he good at downing those things, but he's also a human being - a member of a dying race (as of today). And even if he is rude, you could never leave him at the hands of the undead. "Don't you have a saying, no soldier left behind?"

"If we can help it, yeah," he says solemnly.

Shades of pink and purple are filling the sky as the sun begins to disappear behind the buildings. Darkness will be upon you soon, and with it will come the amplified danger from undead that can see as well as hear and smell you.

"We need to find him fast," you say. "Where do we start."

Quinn surveys the area, then jogs over to a car with the driver's side door hanging open. He pops the trunk and comes out with a crowbar. Back at the manhole, he gives instructions. When I open this cover, I need you to listen, okay? Listen for any sounds like crunching, growling, or snarling."

You nod, understanding that any of those sounds will likely be indications that they're feasting on a victim. He uses the crowbar to lift the lid. You listen quietly for a few moments before he lets it back down as easily as possible. It barely made a sound.

"Nothing," you say. It's a good sign.

"Great. Next, we'll scout the area for any sign of-" Quinn's words are cut short as a new sound fills the air. The desperate groans of a ravenous undead.

From inside a car, an undead emerges. She must have just awakened. With her clothes torn, you can see dozens of bite marks marring her thin body. Her hair is so matted with blood, that you can't tell what color it once was. Beside her, a little girl, looking equally as fresh. One shiny black dress shoe is strapped to her foot. Her other shoe is missing, as well as a large chunk of her calf muscle. She's wheezing and snarling fiercely. Almost as though they were all linked somehow, you hear more undead approaching from the distance.

"Who sent out the dinner-time memo?" you say nervously.

Quinn pulls out a hatchet and steps forward. You follow with your long hunting knife raised. He hacks the woman's skull once, and it splits down to her left eye. Another chop and she's out of commission. You stab the little girl in the eye. For a second she keeps coming at you, then stops. You both spin around to meet the newcomers. Too many undead are piling into the little street from both ends.

"Run," Quinn says, knowing there are too many for the two of you to fight.

Just like that, you're running to the buildings near, trying to open doors. One by one, they're not budging. Quinn flips his hatchet around and thumps a window with the back end. Glass sprays inward, and he ushers you inside where it crunches under your feet. The room is dark except for a faint glow from the windows. Possibly a repair shop of some kind, guessing by the odd equipment scattered around the room. Quinn is coming inside-

You freeze, because you smell it. The unmistakable stench of the undead. Spinning from Quinn's emerge though the window, you find yourself face to rotted face with an undead. It opens its mouth wide, menacing teeth and putrid breath. Gasping with shock, you act in reflex, punching out. The punch is both effective and destructive. The undead is thrown back, but it's tooth nicks your hand. Clueless, Quinn rushes up and shoots the fiend in the head.

You're shocked. Motionless, you gape at the dead undead that has aided to your downfall.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

Still unable to speak, you show him your hand.

"No," he whispers.

Wordlessly, you go back to the window and look out. An army of undead are looking back at you, ready to accept you as one of theirs.