It's the zombie apocalypse like you've never seen it.

Jackson has a problem.

First, he was being attacked by unending hordes of zombies who have destroyed his world.

Next, he found himself trapped by unknown assailants and tortured with views of the outside world where zombies kill and maim before his eyes.

Can he escape? Who has imprisoned him?

It's a zombie story unlike any other. You've seen shamblers, you've felt the terror of sprinters and rage zombies. Now, look into the mind of the zombie.

Jackson tripped over the half eaten corpse of a woman in a yellow sun dress.

He could hear the uneven shuffling of the zombie pursuing him. He tried to leap to his feet and continue his flight but a stabbing pain in his ankle threw him back to the litter strewn pavement with a scream. A cliché; he was going to die as the worst zombie movie cliché ever. He began to crawl, cursing himself the entire way. Why didn't he watch where he was going? If he hadn't turned at the last moment to see how far ahead he was he could have hurdled that woman's corpse and been half way to his shelter by now.

Zombies weren't fast. One on one, Jackson could outdistance any zombie within a couple blocks but at a crawling pace the undead creature was gaining ground like a sprinter chasing a snail. The smell of mold and rotting meat enfolded Jackson as the zombie caught up to him. He rolled onto his back to face his attacker and grabbed the hammer hanging from his belt. The creature had been a man once. It wore a blue sport coat crusted with blood. The fabric was shredded in places and the left sleeve was missing. Its eyes were a bilious yellow color with irises the color of blood. The zombie's skin was a waxy gray with gaping wounds, probably received when it was killed and turned into an unnatural creature by others of its tribe.  Drool flew from its gaping mouth as it dove onto Jackson, clawing and snapping like a rabid animal.

Jackson swung the hammer with frantic strength. He missed the head and hit the zombie in its shoulder. He might as well have hit a brick wall. The creature tore at his skin, unfazed by the repeated blows Jackson rained down on it.  Jackson screamed and redoubled his efforts when the monster locked his head with a grip like iron and pulled itself up until its mouth was above Jackson's forehead. The pain as the teeth ripped into the flesh of his scalp was worse than the time he had cut his palm to the bone with a fillet knife, worse than the burns from the exploding firework on his thigh when he was a teenager, worse than the boiling radiator water that had hit him in the face on a road trip during Sophomore year in college. He screamed so loud that his voice cracked and ceased to provide sound to accompany his agony. He felt and heard a grinding crunch as the zombie's undead jaws cracked the bones of his skull. The world contracted to a small circle of pain and blinding light surrounded by encroaching darkness. The pain stopped; everything went black.