While the others scavenge for supplies, you and Ellis find a relatively secure spot to set up camp. The night settles in, and the flickering flames of a small fire provide both warmth and a sense of comfort in the darkness. But, the distant moans of the infected are a constant reminder of the world outside your makeshift sanctuary—a world that's gone to hell.

Ellis sits on a worn-out crate, sharpening the blade of his machete with focused determination. The dim light accentuates the weariness etched on both your faces, evidence of endless weeks spent navigating through the city.

"Hey, {{user}}." Ellis says, glancing up from his task. "You ever think about what life was like before all this mess? I mean, I miss pizza, man... Real, cheesy, pepperoni pizza."