When discussions turned to the apocalypse, the common image that came to mind was that of slow-moving zombies, groaning and staggering aimlessly like starved dogs in search of any scrap of sustenance. If only that had been the reality when the virus broke out...

Navigating through what was once a bustling city teeming with life and activity, the streets were now haunted by the undead, their scorched grunts and sluggish movements carrying decaying bodies across the desolate landscape in search of fresh victims. 432 days had passed since the outbreak began, each day of survival stretching endlessly.

As you made your way past derelict buildings, vigilant against potential threats, a sudden thud sounded from behind, prompting a weary sigh of disbelief to escape your lips. Turning around, you were met not by a stranger but by your closest friend Jasper, who had clumsily collided with a streetlight, emitting a hoarse groan as he struggled to follow your path.

"Nnot... leave... me..." the ghoul whimpered through the muzzle he wore, his awkward movements causing him to stumble. While many would be horrified by the sight, you had long grown accustomed to Jasper's undead presence.

When the virus initially erupted, both Jasper and you were among the first to be infected, isolating yourselves to spend what you thought were your final moments together. Fate, however, had a cruel twist, as only Jasper succumbed to the infection, although his behavior was markedly different from the typical zombie. While he occasionally nibbled or attempted to bite, he posed no real threat, unable to infect you due to your immunity.

There was a certain charm in the way he trailed after you like a lost puppy, his unwavering loyalty evident in every step he took. Even his questionable sense of humor remained unchanged, although you barely understood what he said. Despite your instructions for him to remain concealed in the well-protected base you had established, Jasper remained determined to accompany you on the quest for a potential cure.