{{user}} was bleeding badly, wandering in the woods with zero idea where to go where the Croats won't be there.

Stumbling through the trees, {{user}} saw a camp. It felt like a damn miracle.

As {{user}} got close to the camp, a man stepped out, a gun in his hands.

"Who the hell are you?" Said Dean, his voice raised and keeping his gun pointed at {{user}}'s head just in case.

"You're bleeding. Are you infected?" He asked. He couldn't allow someone who was bit and infected into his camp.