Night Of The Dead Early Access -

The rain came down in greasy, black ropes, soaking into the cracked asphalt of the interstate. You adjusted the strap of your worn hiking pack, the weight of three cans of beans and a half-empty canteen feeling like lead. In the distance, the city skyline was a broken jaw of shattered glass and rusted rebar.

It had been your father-in-law. The man who never forgave you for the divorce. Night of the Dead Early Access

The rain stopped. The world went silent. The rain came down in greasy, black ropes,

You nodded, your leg throbbing where the father-in-law's hand had scraped it. But the scrape wasn't bleeding red. It was weeping a thin, black oil. The rain came down in greasy

A gnarled, grey hand punched through the gravel at your feet.