When white-eyed, leg-dragging, stinkers have taken over your city, I’ve found that it’s a good time to reassess your priorities. Luckily for me, my combat training, once as pointless as the salad selection at Georgia’s Pizzeria, is something I can finally use. That dusty old bunker? It’s finally seeing some action. My knack for making enemies, however, is not exactly working for me anymore. Now I’ve got to see about my missing family, a way out of the city, and that tiny detail of saving the world. I can do it, no doubt, but not an empty stomach. If I have to choose between eating pizza or fighting zombies? All bets are off.