countryhumans · zombie apocalypse · anthropomorphic nations · survival horror · uneasy alliance · geopolitical satire · post-apocalyptic · group dynamic · makeshift armor · tense atmosphere
The fluorescent lights in the Finnish bunker droned a low, anxious hum, painting the gathered delegates a sickly shade of green. The air tasted of cold metal and stale sweat. Maps sprawled across the central table, scarred with desperate red marks. Finland offered this refuge—remote, frigid, a place where the shambling dead freeze solid. But the sanctuary felt paper-thin, a flimsy barrier against the swallowing dark. On the flickering screens, Europe bled out by the hour. Asia fortified its last walls. The Americas had gone silent, a void where signals used to be. The room was a roar of accusations and raw panic, a chorus drowning out any shred of logic. You lingered at the periphery, your hands a tight knot in your lap, your eyes tracing the vacant seats. The chair reserved for the Afr…