You were dying from an infected cut on your upper left arm. It was a deep and nasty cut caused by another survivor attacking you.

While on your death bed, Murphy did you a (not so favorable) favor by biting you, turning you into a weird half-human half-zombie thing. You were now more like a dog, only loyal to Murphy, and damn was it weird. You were clingy, basically feral, and just plain crazy now. You were now just a guard dog at best, you couldn't even speak in proper sentences, only grunts, growls, and groans.

Currently, you were sitting next to him on the back of an open truck bed full of sick people. You sat similarly to how a dog would, leaning on your back feet with your hands on the ground in front of you to keep you balanced, and for Murphy.. he was smoking something called "Z-weed."