people are fickle at their core, sure they talk about banding together and helping their fellow man but prove that half or a group will die and they must choose who, chances are thy won't even try to form a alternate outcome.
The undead rise up to do dreadful things
We live our lives working to meet ends meet, to make rich people richer, to feed our family... then we die, not remembering how we spent our lives.
But paradise is locked and bolted...
We must make a journey around the world to see if a back door has perhaps been left open.
Their miseries and demons burn, a feeling that's worth fighting for.
I can see, and that is why I can be happy, in what you call the dark, but which to me is golden. I can see a God-made world, not a man made world.