“Aargh!” Molly screamed out in agony as a zombie chomped through her forearm. She heard a crack, and her hand went limp. Desperate to get away, she swung her worthless, bloody flannel sleeve of an arm around and away from the brain-thirsty beast to make way for her handgun. She pulled the trigger and shot right through the zombie’s head.
    “Ooph, okay,” Molly murmured to herself reassuringly and turned away from the mangled body. She preferred not to look. Nursing her hand, she gingerly continued on her way back to the base. Before the attacks, she had pinpointed some food for her team, and it wasn’t going to last long in the open. After all of her scavenging, her findings weren’t as rewarding as she would have hoped as, by now, the abandoned supermarkets were steadily running out of their food supply, and there was no one to provide more. Molly was told by her chief right before she left, however, that barely anyone would be around this early in the morning. Prepared to go on a quiet foraging trip, she was unpleasantly surprised. If no one was supposed to be around, why had she already fought for her life three times?
    Something more evident had been eating away at the back of her brain, though. If it was this hard to dispose of a single zombie, surviving the main zombie attack with but one functioning hand would be a problem for her. The pain was slowly fading away, but her life would be in imminent danger as soon as she stepped out of the stuffy, medicine - smelling army base.
    Molly’s biceps had started to lightly pulsate - an indication that she was close to her destination. All at once, she was taken aback by an unmistakably painful jab - the end to the increasingly more noticeable vibrations issuing from the tiny chip.
    “-Molly! Molly?!” Molly whipped her red locks around just in time to be knocked spine first into the mossy gravel. As she scrambled to stand up along with the teammate that knocked her down, she noticed not only her team (About time, I’ve been out here alone long enough) but the entire camp running towards her.
    Wait, huh, that’s where the medicine plant used to be. Everyone was barreling away from a rising wave of coal-black ash and smoke and dust, terrified to look back. Away from an explosion. Damn! Damn it! Molly gasped and choked as she inhaled a mouthful of the air. Someone must have forgotten to check on the machine gears this morning! Immediately, without the medicine soaked air healing her from the inside, Molly noticed her arm, where the zombie had bitten her, withering. The skin started shedding, until all around the wound became a ghastly green, the color of the undead. Molly looked like she had aged 30 years in a minute, she was now bony and clumps of her hair could be seen on the ground, painting patches of it orange. Soon enough, she would be fighting against her own army, seeking their brains, her own decomposing inside her skull.