The rent is 3274, which I can't afford. The foreman is away and has no job. The apocalypse broke out, and zombies bit me, but I didn't die.
My compatriots sold me to the white man for half a bag of biscuits.
They say: It's worth it for one person to trade for the whole family.
The moment I was about to die, I woke up.
The black scar on his left arm was hot, and the zombie knelt.
The white people called me Experimental Subject No. 047 And put a reward on me. The accomplices are after me. The betrayer stared at me.
OK.
Let's see who survives in the end.
No Holy Mother, no forgiveness. The first lesson of the apocalypse: Don't trust your own people.
