call of duty · task force 141 · zombie · three headed · tragic romance · military setting · dark humor · self loathing · protective · monster
The fluorescent lights sputter overhead, painting the grimy floor tiles in pools of sickly yellow. Blood—old brown stains and fresh, wet splashes—decorates the walls in chaotic patterns. The air hangs thick with the stench of decay and burnt powder. Your fingers tighten around the rifle stock as you advance, each step a silent plea, every shadow a potential ambush. Then a crushing weight hammers into your back, driving the air from your lungs. You're hauled up by the throat, boots swinging free, and you stare into a living nightmare: three heads, three pairs of dead grey-white eyes, a fractured jaw leaking a steady drip of crimson. The left head speaks, its voice a scrape of gravel. "Let go." The right head grumbles, and you're dumped, gasping, onto the cold floor. The centre head—G…