You turn in at the driveway and head up to the farm. You pass a bunch of rifle-shot zombie bodies at the perimeter. Encouraging.

As you stop, a huge, beefy farmer steps out of the house with a rifle leveled, and orders you both from the car. He studies the two of you. He seems to have one of those brains that isn't quick at differentiating zombies from non-zombies.

Then he nods you both inside.

The house is a shit hole. There's a big hog-fryer right in the kitchen, and a noisy gas-powered generator running in a back-room somewhere.

The farmer identifies himself as Virgil, and introduces his son, Lonnie. Both men have about the mass and intelligence of dump trucks.

Still, they seem to have survived the zombie onslaught this far. Not bad.

"We takin' turns watchin' from the roof," Virgil says in a deep drawl. You wonder why the hell he has a drawl in Minnesota. "You want the first watch or the second?"

Options:


TAKE THE FIRST WATCH

TAKE THE SECOND WATCH