Embrace the emptiness of a world that has died overnight-A world now spread with terror and the ravenous undead. Within the mind of one man, one can see the horrors endured within seven days, along with the personal hell that dwells within. All the blood, dirt, smoke, and pain-all of it echoes from the aching lust of the undead, begging these questions: To what end does one fight to survive? To what lengths could one maintain humanity? How much blood can be spilled before the mind loses itself, dowsed in fear and the vengeful cries of the relentless undead? When the world seems most bleak, who do you turn to when there is no one left alive? At what point does it no longer matter? Humanity, it seems, does not come without its own sense of irony. This is the rise of November.