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There comes a time, when you are alone and waiting to be attacked by zombies in an abandoned warehouse, that you wonder if you’ve made a wise decision by volunteering to be the one who’ll “guard the rear”.
With the gloom making it difficult to say whether that shape I just saw is friend or shuffling undead I wait… until a zombie crashes over the boxes to my right and I’ve got less than a second to get that crucial headshot.
But let’s back up a second, shall we. How did I get into this situation in the first place?
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49 Halloween’s ago in a small and isolated New Zealand seaside town something strange and hairy entered the world. Something so out of the ordinary that it would change the world as we know it, forever. But this wasn’t a ghoulish uprising or a zombie invasion. No, this was something far bigger. This was the birth of Peter Jackson.
