Once the undead finds you, they slash your body one at time, with their sharpened swords, they continue to do so, till pieces of your flesh break apart. Till, you have bled so much, it's a miracle you haven't lost consciousness yet. Then, when you open your eyes, hoping the worse is over. 

They make you watch as they transform your family into flesh-eating aberrations like them. Until all of your family's flesh is melted away by a heat so high, their fleshes become big puddles on the ground. You watch and observe them as they come closer to you. As they bite into your flesh, you scream with pain and agony.

You twist your body anyway you possibly can yet there is no avail. No one will come save you. Everyone is already dead and rising. Once and only once they have finally done all this to you, they finally kill you. Do you know what the worse part is? It's the realization that accompanies you on your way to the afterlife.

Your body won't stop moving then and there. It will rise again and when it does, it will hurt and pillage entire villages and town. Cities even. Your body will move of its own volition hurting all those that stray to close near it. Even after death, you will continue to serve those skeleton monsters. Even after death, you will rise to serve them with every fiber of your being.

Your only hope then is to meet your unsavory demise--and this time, to never move again. Once the undead catches you, it is already over. Even with no weapons, all it takes is a single bite for them to turn you. To turn you into a lesser version of themselves. Into a Lesser Undead that you will grow comfortable enough to kill with it. Finally, you will bid your new master's wishes.