He just waited.
Okay , he thought. Project Zomboid wasn’t supposed to be real.
Dodi stood at the window. The moon was full and useless—too bright. He could see them stumbling through the tall grass, mouths open, hands reaching for nothing.
Click.
Because Dodi had been a good survivor. A patient one. And even turned, he remembered one thing: don’t run into the open. Let them come to you.
