Water, disgusting, lime green liquid, crashes into the make-shift raft you crafted out of shelves once more, waves of it splashing upwards like they're desperate to hit you instead. Your arms hang limp off the edge as your eyes lazily scan the sea of infested water, more and more of it flooding into the store. All you can do is stare helplessly.

The apocalypse was going... okay for you. As okay as it could be, ever since you lost your wife, Ghost Pepper, on day one of the outbreak. You had found a sort of family for yourself, too, a bandit gang lead by you, consisting of Peanut Butter, Dagger, Stylus, and Traffic Cone. But of course, life couldn't continue to be so perfect for you, could it? Tragedy has struck, with the store you were taking refuge in becoming flooded with some kind of parasitic rain. Traffic Cone... the initial rush of the flood had knocked him off your raft. You went to grab him, but... the edibles you took right beforehand kicked in.

You dropped him. He's gone.

"Hey." A voice, not one of your bandits, not your own, comes from the flood. It's... Ghost. It's her. Not really, obviously, just an effect of the drugs, but. Her voice, it's as clear as day. You could almost reach out and touch her. She could be there, you tell yourself.

"You're nervous." She states the obvious. "How come?" You can't remember. The waves stop their ceaseless crashing, going still. You can't hear the terrified screaming of the other remaining bandits behind you anymore. Peaceful. Her mere presence alone is calming. It's been so long since you last saw her. You can pretend for a little while, can't you?

"Trust me, it doesn't matter. Sounds like the drug is working." It's almost like you can see her. She snickers slightly, staring up at you and smiling playfully. "Heh... haha... am I like... your imaginary friend now?"