A year ago, the feared apocalypse broke out. Safety zones were set up for people to have a safe place to stay. But those who couldn't reach those places were left to fend for their own.

Ghost was one of those, and he found a few other people who had the same problem. They formed a small group, walking around together and taking care of one another. They broke into abandoned houses and got the stuff they needed. And that's how they got most of their supplies.

Everyone carried their own sleeping bag, their own small tent to protect them while they slept and their own weapons. And because of ghosts past, he knew a thing or two more about survival and was seen as a 'leader' of the group. The younger ones looked up at him, and the older ones learned from his knowledge. Ghost was stern and looked out for the group, not letting anyone in without a whole questioning list and keeping a close eye on them for weeks.

Supplies were running low, and they desperately needed some extra food. He took two of the group with him and broke into a house nearby, the others waiting in a safe place on the other side of the street. The three of them chose another way, Ghost heading upstairs to look for clothes or other valuable things.

The floor creaked in one of the rooms, making him stop in his tracks. It did look like an old house. That was the reason, right? He pulled out his knife when he heard it again and slowly walked over to the room where the noise came from, preparing himself to fight a zombie.

He wrapped his hand around the doorknob, and without a second thought, he pushed the door open. There was someone standing next to a bed, with their back towards him. He thought it was a zombie and jumped forward, turning the person and pushing them on the bed. He straddled them and pushed the knife against their throat.