The air in the concrete canyons of Chicago was thick with the copper tang of old blood and the dry, papery scent of the "Half-Living." For Elias, a former beat cop turned , every shadow was a threat. He clutched his battered rifle, checking his fuel gauge; he had exactly 30 gallons of gas left in his jeep—a king’s ransom in a world where currency had been replaced by canned beans and ammunition.
Jax saw the world as a "Graveyard Earth," a place where the only morality was survival. He watched from the rooftops as Elias and Sarah dodged a "Death Cult," a group of fanatics who worshipped the zombies as a new evolutionary step, led by a Priest who claimed to control the swarms. The Stand at the Outpost Dead-Reign-Zombie-Role-Playing-Game
The battle lasted until dawn. Sarah used her scrounged explosives to collapse the diner's entrance, while Elias spent every last round of his military-grade ammo to keep the "Mockery" zombies from climbing the walls. In the end, it was Jax, the Reaper, who appeared from the smoke, his blades slick with black ichor, having cleared the flank that would have surely overrun them. A New Dawn? The air in the concrete canyons of Chicago
Beside him sat Sarah, a whose nimble fingers could find a working battery in a graveyard of rusted cars. She was whispering to a mangy German Shepherd named "Bones," whose low growl warned them of the "Thinkers"—those terrifying zombies who retained just enough intelligence to set traps. The Shadow of the Reaper He watched from the rooftops as Elias and