Another purple beam slashed the cover right beside me. I gripped my scythe in frustration, Chelsea, my supposedly dead wife, put her hand on my shoulder. "Come on we have to move, it's not safe here" She said as she yanked me. "Alright alright..." I sighed, then I followed her. The street we walked across was something out of a fictional zombie apocalypse, minus the zombies. Cars were either flipped over or destroyed, buildings were no longer habitable, and there were charred remains of bodies, or what used to be bodies. I twisted my scythe back onto my holster as we approached an intersection.