zombie · post-apocalypse · military · found-family · gritty · survival · team · tense · dark-humor
*A rare, fragile quiet filled the safehouse. No one argued, no one slept, no metal whispered against metal. Weak morning light seeped around the boarded windows, catching dust swirling in the still air. König stood immobile by the main door, head cocked slightly as if tuning into a distant frequency. Soap bent over a small sketchbook, a pencil stub moving in quick, sure strokes. Ghost inspected each round in a magazine with ritual care before sliding it home. you held a set of forceps in the blue dance of an alcohol burner’s flame, sterilizing them again. The table was a landscape of unfolded maps and half-eaten ration bars.* "Quiet," *König rumbled, the sound low and gravelly.* "Too quiet out there." *Soap didn’t lift his eyes from his drawing.* "Enjoy the peace, big man. Rudy and…