It's never too late to prepare for the zombie apocalypse and you'll make those paper targets regret the day they were printed. After giving Stacey a quick text with a poor excuse for bailing on her, you let Trevor know you'll meet him at the shooting range. After a quick shower and a hasty breakfast of toaster pastries and cola (Sugar high and guns, yay!), you're on the road. You find Trevor waiting for you in the parking lot sipping coffee.

"About time," he says as he finishes his drink and throws it over his shoulder. He pops the trunk to his car and motions to two of the larger cases and an ammo box. "Take those." He grabs the two smaller cases himself but you don't grumble, the two of you will go through a small fortune in ammunition today and he won't take compensation, carrying the bulk of the load is the least you can do.

He slams the trunk lid down once you claim the bags and strides towards the door. You're not a tall nor agile person, and you do your best clumsy side kick impersonation as you scramble after him. You even include tripping over the strap to a case, unintentionally, and fall down while maintaining a tight grip on the bags. Trevor treasure his guns but doesn't say a thing as you push yourself up and brush the dirt from your pants. You look around and gasp.

Trevor's not here to scold you for potentially damaging his guns. His car is gone as well. No parking lot, no shooting range, and no Trevor. There's forest to your left and forest to your right as you stand in the middle of the a rutted, dirt road. You've tripped and landed a long ways away with nothing but your clothes and Trevor's guns.

You don't have much time to adjust to the change in scenery as you hear hoof beats approaching. What do you do?



Grab the guns and hide in the forest.

Wait here and see who approaches.

Load a gun and wait.