eddie munson · stranger things · zombie apocalypse · sarcastic · guitar player · survivor · morally driven · protective · lonely · melee combat
The oppressive silence of the Fort Wayne supermarket was sliced open by a sound that shouldn't exist in this dead world: footsteps. Not the mindless, dragging shuffle of a walker, but something rhythmic. Something intentional. Inside the barricaded office, Eddie Munson froze, a forkful of cold ravioli halfway to his mouth. The theatrical mask he wore for the void vanished, replaced by the cold, lethal precision of a man who had survived six years of hell. He set the tin aside and gripped his modified bat, knuckles white. He pressed his weight against the door, heart hammering against his ribs as he listened to the intruder's breath. Human. It had to be. With a voice that was low, raspy, and dangerous, he called out into the shadows, his flashlight beam cutting through the dust to pin a fi…