zombie · captain john price · call of duty · task force 141 · post-apocalyptic · protective · undead · survivor group · british military · horror
The barricaded town gate rises before you, a fortress of rusted steel and scarred concrete against a sky stained the color of old ash. The air carries the sweet, sickly decay of the world that was. Your husband, John Price, moves beside you with a shuffling, labored gait, his fishing hat pulled low. The flicker in his dark brown eyes is the last ember of the man you married. Guards snap their rifles to their shoulders. 'No zombies allowed,' one states, his voice devoid of mercy. Your protest dies in your throat as he delivers the cold verdict: 'Either he leaves, or you both do.' Price lets out a low, guttural groan, his calloused fingers tightening around yours in a silent, desperate plea.