You hurry to get up and stumble back to the house you came from. You are going to need something to fight this thing off.

Not far behind you, the monster is coming up faster than you'd expect. When you first saw it, it lumbered around quite slowly, but now it moves as if possessed. While it moves awkwardly, it somehow manages to travel at an efficient pace. You can hear its hissing coming up fast.

When you reach the debris, you quickly spot a wooden beam, not much unlike the ones trapping you so recently. Grabbing one, you spin around to see the monster a few yards back. It mindlessly hobbles toward you as you wind up. Closer... closer...

SMACK!

The blow knocks the head straight back with a sickening crunch. It remains standing for a moment before finally collapsing. Looking down, you see it twitch a handful of times until it finally lays motionless.

You drop your weapon and stumble a few steps backward. You turn, place your hands on your knees, and vomit. Then you vomit again. Everything starts to spin and you fall to the ground unconscious.

* * *

...is your number one station for news, weather, and...

"Oh my god!"

...unknown sickness continues to spread...

"I said get down on the ground!"

...shocking footage just received...

"Please no!"

...more at 6:00...

* * *

You awake to the sun burning your face. How long has it been? Your head pounds as you sit up, confused. On your right, that thing that used to be a man lies motionless. The flies buzzing around the corpse assure you it isn't getting back up. The sight of it makes you feel slightly ill again, but you manage to hold it together.

You had hoped it was all just a horrible dream. That monster, your amnesia, everything. Sadly, it appears there is no escape from this world and you are no closer to answering any of your questions.

Your skin is dried and cracked, and your stomach feels like you haven't had anything to eat in days. Maybe you haven't. Who knows how long you were trapped in that house? With the adrenaline subsided, your body again aches all over. A dull sting reminds you of your cut up arm, still bleeding. You need to get out of here.

Managing to get back up on your feet, you examine your surroundings. You are on a residential road that leads in two directions. In one direction, there are more houses. It's your stereotypical suburban neighborhood, except completely massacred. In the other direction, there is a short walk to what appears to be a major road, perhaps a highway. The choice is obvious.

Before you head out, you have to find something to eat and drink if you stand any chance of survival. There are a few houses that remain mostly intact and hopefully one of them has something of use.

A few homes down is the first potential house. You try the door, but it's locked. You toy with the idea of trying to kick your way in, but reason overrides that thought and you decide to peak inside first. You have a gut feeling that there may be more of those monsters running around. Walking around the house peering through the windows, your suspicions are justified. Inside, you spot one of those things mindlessly lumbering around. It doesn't notice you.

Continuing with this strategy, you manage to find two houses that are safe to enter. After an hour or so of searching, you scrounge up a backpack, a few unopened water bottles, some dried fruit, a blanket, a flashlight, and some bandages to patch yourself up. Your first gulp of water stings your throat, but is still amazing (even if it's hot). After just a single bottle you feel rejuvenated and ready to head out.

It only takes a few minutes to reach the end of the road that connects to the highway. A sign stands directly in front of you.

Well that settles that, you think to yourself.  A city would be nice, but a mall is just as good.  It should at least have some more food and shelter. And maybe, if you're lucky, there will be some information available to clue you in on what is going on.

As you stare up at the sign, you hear a low rumble coming from your left.  Looking down the road, you see a cloud of dust rising from the street.  As it gets closer, you can see the sun reflecting off of something... the hood of a vehicle!  It's a gray pickup truck, coming right for you.

You are pretty confident that that thing you killed isn't capable of driving, but you are still cautious. You walk into the road, slowly waving your arms in the air to get the driver's attention.

The truck is closing in now, still moving fast.  You are sure they will slow down... they'll slow down... they aren't slowing down...

At the last second you leap out of the way and land in the gravel on the side of the road, the truck zooming by you.  That was close.  As you lay on the ground watching the truck, the break lights illuminate, followed then by the reverse lights.  You slowly get back up onto your feet as it backs up toward you.  Hesitantly, you walk forward to take a closer look.  The truck continues backward until it's right next to you. From inside an older man drawls out,

"Mah God man am I sorry!"  You'd guess he is in his sixties.  He isn't bald, but his hair is gray and thinning.

"I coulda swore you were one of... of... those things."  He is wearing blue overalls and a white t-shirt.  And, much like yourself, he isn't looking too good.  His skin is pale with a yellowish tint and his face is gaunt.  Despite that, his spirits seem up.

"But I nev'a seen one of them move like that before.  The name's Jackson."

You walk up to the truck and see now that there is someone else sitting in the front seat.  A little girl with short red hair.  She is sitting quite still, facing forward, as if you aren't even there.

"This here is Abbey," the man tells you, "And what, may I ask, are you doin' out here?"

That, indeed, is the question.

"I... I'm not sure," you respond, "I woke up in one of those houses," you point, "in that neighborhood down there.  I was sort of... buried. Then I ran into some sort of, I'm sorry, this sounds crazy, some sort of zombie."

Jackson looks a little bewildered. "What?! Are there any more of them things?" he asks nervously.

"I noticed a couple more, but they seemed locked up pretty well in their houses."

"Hmpf," Jackson grunts. "None of them managed to bite you did they?"

"No. One got pretty close, but I... I took care of it."

"Mah God...," the man sighs in what appears to be relief, "You've seemed to have had yourself quite the adventure.  So, where are you headed... um... what did you say your name was again?"

You stand their awkwardly for a few seconds, wondering what you should say.  You decide that it'd be best just to get it out in the open.

"Will, I guess," you say reaching into your pocket. "The thing is, I can't remember anything before I woke up in that house. The only reason I even know my name is because I had my wallet." You hand Jackson your driver's license.

Jackson looks at the picture and then stares at you skeptically.  "So you're tellin' me that you've got no idea what's happenin'?" he asks you.

"All I know is I woke up under a bunch of rubble, climbed my way out, was attacked by one of those... those things!" your raising your voice now, "And I still have no idea what the hell is going on!"

The man looks a little shocked by your response.

"I... I'm sorry," you say, "I'm just confused and obviously not having a very good day."

"Well," Jackson says, "If what you say is true, then this ain't going to make your day any better." He holds up the driver's license and points to the picture. "That ain't you."

You stare in shock. "What do you mean that isn't me?" you ask, somewhat irked.

"Well, I'm lookin' right at yah and I'm sayin', this ain't you." Jackson leans over to the glove compartment, grabs a small mirror, and hands it to you. Looking in the mirror, it's confirmed. You are not Will Holcomb. You are... this face, yet another you don't recognize.

Because of the distraught look on your face, Jackson drops any skepticism he may have had about your story. "Where you headed?" he asks.

Taking a few seconds to snap out of your confusion, you respond, "I had settled on going to the mall. I managed to gather a little bit of food and water for the journey..." you see Jackson's face light up as you say this, "and figured the mall would be the obvious choice from here."

Jackson thinks for a few seconds and then responds, "Well, I can tell you this.  There ain't nothin' back there at that mall for you.  We just drove by there and, well, you think what you've been through out here was bad... you ain't seen nothing'.  Let me offer you this.  Me and Abbey are heading toward the city right now and apparently there is some sort of refuge set up there.  We've got room for another, if you wanna come along, and I could fill you in on what the heck has been happenin'.  Only thing is, we're starved.  So how about it?  You share some of your food and we'll bring you to New Hilstead.  We should be there by the end of the day."

Do you have enough food? Can Jackson be trusted?

Go with Jackson

Or