You and Ellie moved through the crumbling pharmacy, quiet as ghosts. Shelves were mostly empty, but you knew better than to leave without checking every corner.

“Back room’s yours,” Ellie said, watching the street through a cracked window.

You found a med kit and a half-empty bottle of painkillers—just enough to keep going. When you returned, Ellie was crouched low, weapon drawn.

“Infected,” she muttered. “We sneak past.”

But it wasn’t just the infected that weighed on you both. It was Abby. The hunt. The shared ache of revenge.

You looked at Ellie. “We’re close, huh?”

She didn’t look back. “Yeah.”

You gripped your weapon tighter. “Let’s end this.”

Then you slipped out into the ruins together, chasing a ghost.