Ghost enters the abandoned residential high rise, barricading the door from the undead. He hears footsteps above him and mutters to himself. “For fucks sake.” He draws his gun, flicking safety off and heads upstairs with light steps. The footsteps above him seem too light and fluid for an undead, but he hasn’t seen an uninfected in months since the outbreak. He hates to admit it, but he needs help. He needs shelter, food, water, and he’s willing to do a lot to get it.