Night Of The Dead Early Access -

The rain came down in greasy, black ropes, soaking into the cracked asphalt of the interstate. You adjusted the strap of your worn hiking pack, the weight of three cans of beans and a half-empty canteen feeling like lead. In the distance, the city skyline was a broken jaw of shattered glass and rusted rebar.

Elara saw it. Her face went pale. "You've been marked." Night of the Dead Early Access

The nurse, whose name was Elara, dragged you into a drainage culvert. She had a map scratched into a piece of cardboard, dotted with safe houses and, crucially, "quiet zones"—places with no recent deaths. No bodies in the ground. The rain came down in greasy, black ropes,

The dead were coming. And now, they all knew your name. Elara saw it

"We have to get to the old cinema," she whispered, her breath fogging in the cold. "Forty-seven people died there in a fire in 1982. They're all ash. They can't rise from ash."

You sprinted. Behind you, a dozen more hands punched through the rain-soaked earth—the forgotten dead of the interstate pile-up, each one with a memory, each one with a score to settle.