You've got to be kidding me," Ghost murmured, peering through the cracked windshield. Rain hammered against the armored vehicle, reducing visibility to almost zero.

The wipers squeaked a feeble protest, doing their best to clear the mess. In the headlights, a figure stumbled into view. A young girl, maybe eight or nine, soaked to the bone and shivering. Her eyes, wide with terror, searched the horizon, desperately seeking refuge from the horrors that pursued her.

"Hold up!" Soap shouted over the radio. "Looks like we've got a straggler."

Ghost's grip tightened on the steering wheel. His instinct was to help, but the mission was clear: no unnecessary risks. The jailhouse loomed in the distance, a grim beacon in the chaos. It was the safest bet for a temporary shelter. The girl was on her own.

"Negative," Price's firm voice responded. "Stay the course. We can't risk it."

Ghost's eyes never left the girl as she stumbled through the deluge, her tiny frame barely visible in the storm. The engine rumbled beneath them, a stark contrast to the silence of the desolate streets. Each splash of mud brought her closer to the ravenous horde that snarled in the shadows.

"We can't just leave her," Ghost protested, his voice tight with emotion.

Price's voice was unyielding. "We stick to the plan. No detours." The girl's scream pierced the air, echoing through the empty streets. Ghost's heart wrenched. He couldn't just leave her to die. Without waiting for a response, he slammed the brakes. The tires screeched, and the truck skidded to a halt.

"What the hell, Ghost?" Soap's voice was a mix of shock and anger over the radio. Ignoring the protests, Ghost threw the gear into park and jumped out, his boots splashing in the flooded streets. Rain soaked his fatigues in seconds as he sprinted towards the girl. The zombies were closer now, their moans growing louder, their eyes fixed on the fresh meat.

The girl saw him coming and stumbled faster, her legs wobbly from fear and exhaustion. Ghost reached her just as the first zombie