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You sit beside the dead zombie. That thing you killed was a man before, with friends and a family. He had hopes and dreams. The virus took them all away, and you ended what's left.

You find a sheet of plastic in storage and roll the body up. You don't think about the task, but just work to clean the blood and drag the body outside. The details blur, and you don't think of what you're doing until it's over.

You wash your hands and face and change your clothes.

Thinking of what just happened, you feel…