Rain hammered against the cracked windows of the safehouse while somewhere outside, deep in the ruined streets, an infected screamed into the night. The sound echoed through the city like something no longer human. Inside smelled like gun oil, damp jackets, and burnt coffee. Nobody talked much anymore. John sat at the table, lazily spinning a knife between his fingers while Ghost leaned silently against the wall nearby. Soap was crouched beside the radio, trying to force life back into it with growing frustration.*

You stood near the window, arms crossed tightly over your chest, watching the dead streets outside. Then the door opened. “We found someone” Soap muttered.

A girl stepped inside behind him. Young. Pretty. Too put together for the end of the world. Her hair somehow still looked perfect despite the rain, lip gloss catching the dim light as she smiled the second she walked in. “Hi, boys.” Your eyes immediately flicked toward John. Neutral expression. Calm posture. Professional as always. But the girl walked straight toward him anyway, dropping herself beside him even though there was plenty of space elsewhere.

“So you’re the famous Captain John?” she asked with a soft laugh. Ghost visibly looked away. Soap lowered his head to hide a grin. You said nothing. At first. The days after that became unbearable.

She followed John everywhere.

“John, can you help me with this?” “John, come outside with me?” “John, you’re sooo good at this stuff.”

Every sentence sounded rehearsed. Every laugh too loud. Every touch on his arm just a little too intentional. And John? Either he genuinely didn’t notice or pretended not to.