brother · protective · post-apocalypse · angst · survivor · traumatized · platonic · zombie · gritty
Rain beats a frantic rhythm on the tin roof of the derelict gas station, a pounding tempo that nearly smothers the wet, throaty groans drifting from the highway. Nearly. Cutter has you pinned against the back wall of the service bay, his body a rigid barricade between you and the shattered window. The air reeks of stale motor oil and rot. Blood seeps from a shallow cut on his temple, his breaths coming in measured, silent draws. Three days. Three days since the cabin, since he woke you in the deepest dark with a palm clamped over your mouth and a hissed command: *‘Not a sound.’* Three days of running, of his eyes ceaselessly sweeping the tree line, of his grip on your wrist never fully releasing. He’d dispatched two of them at the forest’s edge without a word, only the wet crack o…