Got plenty of zombies roaming the land already. They tend to congregate in big bunches where there's lots of blacktop and concrete, office buildings, wine bars and Starbucks. They've become quite mobile, and wear cute outfits while pedaling bicycles and trying to commit "suicide-by-car".
I'll pick Door Number 2 and go with the 50/50 chance. The possibilities of a "nuclear tan" bothers me a bit, but if there are any shelters left, and stocked with old "survival rations", I think I'd fear THEM more than latent radiation. The reason: While stationed on Guam, back in the Pleistocene Era, my comm-shack watch section was stranded while on-duty for three days due to being hit by a typhoon. The chow truck couldn't make it to the comm site, so all the gee-dunk in the shack was soon gone. We had no choice but to break into a stash of WWII emergency supplies, contained within big tins. I remember foremost the abominable, stale crackers and 5-packs of Lucky Strikes. The smokes were so old that the paper was spotted brown, and they were so dry that they burned like a California brush fire, and just as hot. Good times!
Nuclear war is obviously the last thing any of us want, but I've never been able to understand the "If we get hit, I'm just going to play in the fireball and get it over with quick," kind of attitude. If you've lost any kind of survival instinct, I would classify that type of person as excess baggage, anyway, and pay your fare to watch the fireworks up close.
The rest of us 'roaches will take it from there. More oxygen for the rest of us, thank you.