You stand up, joints creaking, and peer around through the darkness. As your eyes get used to being dead, you begin to make out a smoke-stained brick wall with "the end is extremely nigh" spray-painted upon it. There is another, similar, wall behind you, but this one merely displays various rude words in half-unreadable writing.

You wobble slightly, your legs stiffening with rigor mortis, and reach out to steady yourself - then snatch your hand away again as it comes to rest on the cold, slimy edge of a dump full of flies and rotting food.

A drifter sticks his head out, and slurs: "Find yer own bed, ya bum!" Then his eyes widen as he sees your gray face. "A z- a zo-"

"A zombie?" you offer helpfully.

His only reply is to scream shrilly, vault out of his dumpster, and flee down the alleyway. How rude.