Comfort, Colorado,
is a sleepy little village nestled at the foot of the Rocky
Mountains, just beyond the Eisenhower tunnels. Surrounded by a forest of gold and orange, it’s
a picture-perfect paradise on sunny, autumn days like today. Right now, the meteorite destined to slam
into poor George Potts’ head and begin the zombie apocalypse is still weeks
away, Fred and Timmy are happy and breathing back in Jersey,
and the Turnpike … well, the Turnpike is still shit.
Here’s what happened.
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