I got bit. He bit me and I killed him. I shot him, my brother. Fuck, I shot my own brother. A strong feeling ran through my leg to the rhythm of my pulse, but I moved to a different beat. I could feel tears from my eyes dripping down my cheeks. I puked. Blood flowed down from the hole in his head, over his jaundiced, papery skin. Blood—my blood, and the fabric of my jeans is stuck between his teeth. My brother wanted to eat me, and I killed him. I shot my bro—fuck, not my brother. He is no longer my brother. I had no option. I had to survive. It was him or me, and I have to live. I have to make it. My leg—what the hell am I going to do about my leg? I can’t become a zombie. I won’t turn. There has to be another way. To find out what happens get your copy today or read for free with Kindle Unlimited.