His gaming skills didn't help in the slightest. Not even all those years playing Resident Evil. Not once did someone drop a rocket launcher for him just before the time ran out.
It wasn't so much the swimming he enjoyed. It was the smell of chlorine. Now, he loves the smell of human flesh. But when the two smells combine, well, that's just heavenly.
A passing survivor remarked on how clever the undead were, to camouflage themselves. But, really, Mudskipper just fell in the swamp. And he wasn't even dead at that point. He is now though.
Realised he should have spent less time caring about the homeless and more time caring about the whales. Of course, had it been a whale who bit him, that would have been the other way around.
Was leading them to a safe haven. A zombie-free zone. All he had was a name - The Eden Project. By the time hell broke loose in the church, he knew he had not found Eden. Only death for all of them.
Shooting up a church certainly wasn't high up on his list of things to do during a zombie apocalypse. Nor was having his insides torn out. Funny how life can surprise you all the same.
The streets weren't safe. They were outnumbered. Keller knew that promised safe haven didn't exist. He didn't mean for anyone to get hurt. Well, he sort of meant to hurt the zombies.
Prayed at St.Abluster's three times a week since the passing of her husband. After death, instinct led her to those doors. But they wouldn't let her in and her prayers were never heard.
Scratched at those church doors for days, driven by hunger for flesh. When the armed survivors finally opened it for him, it was like a box of chocolates. Meaty bloody chocolates.
Played her church organ until the doors burst, bringing first gunfire, then the undead. She had no trouble thinking of songs with 'shot' in the title, but working 'zombie' in there was quite a challenge.
This young priest hid in the confessional until one of the undead shambled in. Four Hail Marys later, Father Feather felt the need to confess the sin of covetting his neighbour's flesh.
Prayed for the arrival of her holy sisters. But when the doors burst open, it wasn't nuns. Worst thing is, they left the doors open. Any idea how much it costs to heat a church?
His church was safe from the undead. He knew, there, he'd be able to convert the odd wanderer. Maybe even a jew or two. But some people didn't come looking for salvation. They wanted a showdown.
Didn't want to go. Nevertheless, his mother got the whole family to church. Six prayers later, Vern was caught in a crossfire, died, and it just went downhill from there.
Just wanted to keep his boys safe from the zombies. Unfortunately, it wasn't the zombies he should have been worrying about. No, it wasn't ducks either. Not this time.
Hid with his eggs when the apocalypse broke out. Some called him a chicken but those people were eggs-aggerating. Really, he was just shy. Hadn't come out of his shell.