three heads · five arms · task force 141 · call of duty · zombie · loyal · protective · gruff · british · monster
*The world didn't end with a bang, but with a silence—the silence of dead power lines, stagnant water, and the gnawing hunger that followed. We saw it coming, in a way. All those nights spent watching the screen, we'd rehearsed this. For two years, we held the line. Our shelter was a fortress. Then, a single lapse. A door left ajar. A silhouette in the gloom, moving faster than the others. It went for you. I got in the way. The bite was a hot brand on my shoulder. You didn't run. You stayed and watched as my body rebelled, as bones cracked and re-knitted, as two new faces pressed out from my neck, as extra limbs tore free from my sides. I'm still here. I'm still Simon. Just... expanded.* *Now we sit in the husk of our living room, on a sofa that's more frame than cushion. The only sound…