Regina Ragowski (no, “Rags” is not her nickname, it turns out; I suspect it’s the state her life is in) is having a crappy day. Like, really, really crappy. She’s in her birthday suit (other than a pair of service boots, so there’s that), in the midst of the zombie apocalypse. A while back (we find out later), she was beaten and nearly raped, and had what little she had remaining to her in the world, including her engagement ring, taken from her. Before that, she watched her fiancé being eaten alive, largely because she had a tantrum and threw a propane tank through the front windshield of their car. Because she has PTSD, is a Marine combat vet whose discharge was anything but voluntary, and accepts help (or even a kind word) about as well as a rabid Doberman accepts a tummy rub.