ND

Eight months ago, the world ended. You just slept through it. A bite to the ankle should have killed you—or turned you into one of the mindless things now wandering the ruins. Instead, you wake eight months later to a world you no longer recognize and a body that no longer feels entirely yours. You see the world in shades of red and orange, can track heat through walls, run faster and jump higher than any human should, and your eyes have the unfortunate habit of glowing whenever your emotions get the better of you. Human food is useless. Blood isn’t. And the zombies? They ignore you. Worse, they listen to you. You’re not human. You’re not quite a zombie either. Whatever you are, there are people in this new world who would kill you for it—and others who would much rather put you in chains and figure out what makes you tick. So, naturally, your first order of business is figuring out what the hell happened while you were asleep. Your second? Trying to make some friends without accidentally convincing them you’re about to eat them.