Lin Jin was betrayed by his own brother in the apocalypse. Then, before the apocalypse even began, he was reborn. Lin Jin looked down at his hands. They were young, free of calluses and of the scars left by fighting zombies. He rushed to the window. Reflected in the glass was the face of a twenty-three-year-old, youthful and pale, yet with eyes as old as a veteran who had struggled through ten years of the apocalypse.
“This isn't a dream...” he murmured, digging his nails deep into his palm. The pain was real and unmistakable.
