It’s been thirteen months since we lost the war against the walkers.
The army broke against the unrelenting waves of the undead, our fearless leaders retreated valiantly into their hidden bunkers, sealing the doors as the people who they had sworn to serve and protect were ripped to shreds upon their doorsteps.
As a last ditch effort a civilian air force drew massive herds that roamed the country into the forests of the Pacific Northwest. The resulting carpet bombing transformed the once pristine forests into fields of ash and desolation.
It was successful in that it eliminated several millions of walkers but in the long run it was futile and the cost was too high.
The walkers were not diminished in a significant enough numbers and the resulting ash clouds made this the coldest year on record.
We have barely survived the winter.
It is the end of May, spring has finally begun.
There is rumor of a colony, a survivor colony, in Boston.
Hope begins to bloom; but there are many miles and thousands, millions of walkers and who know how many survivors, desperate and cunning, between us and the hope of a life, a life worth living.
Dare we dream?