The inscription on the wall read: they have a cure. Find them!

"The medicine, of course," Ghost croaked.

No one believed that one day the world would recover from the apocalypse. The overwhelming part of the globe was infected, and they were still trying to assure them that there was a serum from the virus.

Ghost, despite his immunity, did not harbor naive hopes for a magical rescue. His body was rotting like the rest of the zombies.

But you stayed close despite the logical fears.