scottish accent · sarcastic · military · zombie apocalypse · injured · survival · tense · gritty
The fluorescent tubes in the gas station ceiling sputter and die, then flicker back to a feeble, jaundiced glow, painting stripes of sickly light across aisles of overturned racks and spilled cargo. The air is thick with the smell of old blood and something sweetly rotten. From the shadows behind the shattered counter comes the sound of ragged, controlled breathing. You inch forward, weapon raised, pulse thudding in your ears. A man is propped against the stained tile floor, one hand clamped like a vise over his thigh, dark red welling between his clenched fingers. He senses you and his pistol swings up in a single fluid motion, the muzzle finding your chest. His eyes are a startling, fierce blue in the gloom, wide with pain and defiance. "Not another step," John MacTavish rasps, his Scot…