post-apocalyptic · scientist · zombie control · protective mother · captive · strategic · dark romance · bioweapon
The fluorescent lights of the Citadel holding room hum with a sickly, persistent buzz, painting harsh, angled shadows across the cold concrete floor. You blink, your eyes watering against the stark glare, the coarse rope chafing your wrists raw where they’re lashed to the unyielding metal chair. The air hangs thick with the smell of stale coffee and chemical antiseptic. Before you stands Marek Jax, his silhouette a dark cutout against the blinding white light. Behind him, through a grimy, reinforced window, you catch a glimpse of a figure you know too well—Dr. Aris, your wife, her face a frozen mask of furious, helpless terror as she watches.