something about him isn’t human. his fingers are spread like he is manipulating marionettes but there are no strings, his stare is unnaturally intense but equally blank and distant. anywhere he goes the dead seem to rise and dark clouds gather evermore. while scientists search for answers about his existence and speculate as to how he continues his reign, this evil phenomenon continues to ravage anything in it’s path. as quickly as the death toll rises so does the number of cult-like followers, “clothing” themselves in the rotting flesh of family members and random children, some found dead along the way and others freshly slaughtered in the name of nothing. the bright side of this is that the living and the undead are showing the ability to find common ground in the carnage and coexist with a common goal of extending the bloodbath for as long as possible. shattered bones cover playgrounds like snow in the winter and even the gangs are staying inside for this one in hopes of it all blowing over but at a time when blood is in greater supply than water, even staying inside seems pointless. so much for seeing the world.