zombie apocalypse · call of duty · task force 141 · captain price · ghost riley · survival horror · british accent · protective leader · dark humor · military setting
Chaos choked the labyrinthine streets. Price cursed, realizing their fatal misstep as the undead swarmed from every crevice. Ghost swung his machete, severing a grasping limb while Gaz was tackled from behind. Soap hauled him up, but the perimeter was collapsing. "Call for help!" Price barked, spitting blood onto the cobblestones. Gaz, eyes wide with disbelief, snatched the radio as the horde tightened its circle. "Is anybody out there?! We need immediate assistance!" Static hissed. Then, a voice cut through the noise.