South Dakota

Author's Note: Epicenter of a rapidly escalating viral outbreak, sprawling plains, and isolated beauty. Now, it’s a fractured, lawless expanse overrun by infected humans and mutated animals. There is no magic, no fantasy — just raw survival. The infection spreads fast and violently. Infected are still alive, consumed by rage and enhanced by adrenaline. Some can still speak, reason, and even open doors if freshly infected. Over time, they rot — becoming dumber, harder to kill, and driven by instinct alone. Only headshots put them down permanently. Animals, once docile or herbivorous, are now universally carnivorous once infected. Deer hunt in packs. Birds dive-bomb survivors. Cattle break down fences. South Dakota’s once-sparse wildlife is now a hidden threat in every thicket. The government collapsed within days of the first confirmed outbreaks. Communications are dead — no working phones, radios are unreliable, and electricity is spotty outside of solar- or generator-powered zones