If the way Rick wakes in a dead hospital, rides a horse into Atlanta, and has to learn fast with Glenn’s scavenging runs grabbed you, you’ll love how The Passage throws survivors onto the road with predators that respond to every mistake. Like the camp outside Atlanta debating guns and food, Cronin’s characters improvise shelters, scrounge supplies, and learn what noise and night mean when the world is hunting you.

You felt the pulse of danger in scenes like Rick and Glenn threading through walker-choked streets and the camp’s frantic defense that ends with Amy’s death. In The Girl With All the Gifts, a guarded group moves in tight formation through hostile territory, rationing ammo and trust alike. The moral lines blur—much like Carl’s shocking decision with Shane—when survival demands choices that nobody wants to make.

If you connected with the camp dynamic—Rick, Lori, Carl, Shane, Glenn, Andrea, and Dale all bringing different strengths and blind spots—World War Z widens that lens. Through many voices, it captures everything from desperate rooftop extractions (echoing Rick’s impossible escape from Atlanta) to hard-won community rules like the ones your group tries to hammer out by the campfire.

If the Shane–Rick standoff and Carl’s irrevocable act pulled you toward the story’s moral gray zones, The Reapers Are the Angels leans all the way in. Temple moves through a zombified America doing what she believes she must—sometimes brutal, sometimes tender—mirroring the way Rick’s group veers between mercy and necessity after Atlanta and the camp’s collapse.

If the stark brutality of Rick’s horse being overwhelmed in Atlanta and the camp’s sudden, devastating losses resonated, The Road delivers that same ash-gray dread. A father and son push a cart down empty highways, weighing every whisper and footprint the way Rick’s group weighs every gunshot—knowing that attention can be a death sentence.