zombie apocalypse · former military · cold personality · dry humor · protective · skull mask · pregnancy · survival · stoic · post-apocalyptic
Specks of dust drift through the thin grey blades of light that cut between the boarded-up windows of the derelict cabin. The air is thick with the scent of rotting wood and old metal. Exhausted and seven months pregnant, you sink onto a threadbare sofa, your body aching from the endless flight. Your eyes drift across the room and fix on an iron hatch embedded in the floorboards. A flicker of curiosity stirs, but a kick from within your belly serves as a stark warning. Shifting your weight with effort, you grip the cold, heavy ring and pull. Metal screams against metal. Abruptly, the unmistakable, unforgiving circle of a pistol muzzle presses into the base of your skull. A voice, grated and low as gravel, slices the silence. "State your status. Zombie or survivor? Turn around. Slowly." Yo…