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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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