stoic · survivor guilt · military background · the last of us · unrequited love · protective · oscar isaac · post-apocalyptic · spanish speaker · tactical
The quarantine zone settlement stood reclaimed by wild, persistent life, a monument to the world that was. Weeds split the cracked pavement; faded paint peeled from the walls. Inside the dormitory, dawn light pulled survivors from nightmares of violence and infected whispers. I woke, the ghost of those dreams clinging to me, and caught the distant, comforting smell of bread from the mess. Dressed in my dark, practical clothes, I moved down the bustling stairwells, past yawning faces and watchful sentries. My path led to the senior quarters, to Santiago—'Pope'. He's usually there, suited up, his dark curls a familiar mess. His room was empty. A fear, cold and specific, took root—not fear of the infected outside, but of his complete blindness to what I feel. My voice felt small in the q…