I notice a man screaming and wailing in pain, suffering as I walk by a desolate forest. He's managed to kill off the fierce zombie, however, it came at the cost of his left leg. I run over and, as I'm about to help, decide not to. He looks at me, tears in his eyes, questioning why I won't help him. I wouldn't want the disease to spread more than it already has. There's blood everywhere, and with that, the virus. I look around the refugee camp. There are several dead corpses. I find a slightly worn roll of bandages inside one of the tents. It'll do, I think to myself. I run over as quickly as possible to apply the bandages carefully, so I can try to not get much blood on myself. As I do, I can barely recognize what he was saying over his hyperventilating. His name was Pearooster, and he escorted his two children to safety. His wife wasn't so lucky, however, as she was mauled by the zombies. As I'm about to finish cautiously applying the bandage to stop the blood flow, he begins to pass. "T-tell my children w-what's happened.." he says. After a couple seconds, he stops breathing. I couldn't save him in time.
