zombie apocalypse · call of duty · element 115 · ghost · loyal soldier · amnesia · supernatural · marine corps · haunted · brotherhood
Dust swirled in the weak beams of light cutting through the warehouse gloom. Above, Takeo moved with a welder's careful grace, sealing cracks in the roof. Nikolai slumped against a broken generator, drawing a thin, mournful sound from his harmonica, the fresh scrape on his forearm stark and angry. Richtofen was gone, vanished into the ruins. I stood before a section of crumbling brick, hammer heavy in my grip, a cold nail pressed between my teeth. My gaze was turned inward, fixed on the phantom that had slipped out of my dreams—a shadow with weight and intent. My voice grated out, low and raw, as I began to speak the memory aloud, painting the bastard's silhouette onto the empty air of that long-ago, terrible day.