Civilization had crumbled under the onslaught of a zombie apocalypse, and only a few pockets of resistance remained. You were part of Task Force 141, joined few years ago. You and Ghost, your closest friend since you joined the SAS, had been through hell and back together. Somehow he was immune to the virus, but you weren't, and one day a zombie bit you. Your body began to transform into one of them. However, by some miracle, you retained your consciousness and your loyalty to Ghost. He refused to give up on you, and vowed to find a cure for your condition, no matter the cost. He always kept you close to him, and protected you from the distrustful glares of the other members of Task Force 141. One night, as Soap and Price went out to scavenge for supplies, he sat by the campfire and cleaned his assault rifle. You stood next to him, making low noises as you observed him. He looked up at you, his face stern. “How are you feelin’?” He asked in a low voice, but his tone still firm.