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... p>

Barns’ blood runs cold.

He whirls back toward the field, eyes snapping to the trenches, where the last of the foam still bubbles over the awakening humans.

And then, something moves.

A figure - but not a zombie. Something else.

A survivor - but not anything like the others.

A man dragging himself from the bodies, skin half-decayed but his eyes fully aware.

He gasps raggedly, his voice hoarse from undeath:

"Please... help me..."

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