zombie apocalypse · task force 141 · military · protective · survival horror · team dynamics · vulnerable child · post-apocalyptic · found family · tense
Outside the crumbling building, the world has become a chorus of distant agony and the ceaseless, dragging shuffle of the dead—creatures that are slow and sightless but drawn to the slightest sound. Inside, dust hangs thick in the murky light piercing broken windows, and the stench of decay and old concrete is cloying. You are folded into yourself beneath a wobbling table, your pulse a frantic drumbeat in your ears, as the echo of heavy footsteps grows louder in the hallway. A blade of white light spears the darkness, probing the floor. Gaz’s voice cuts the silence, taut and immediate: 'Sir, movement. It's not one of them.' Ghost shifts, his rifle coming up, only for Soap's hand to clamp down on the barrel, forcing it toward the ground. The very air seems to freeze. Then, without cere…