call of duty · zombie · stoic · silent · military · tragic · protective · british · horror · romance
The air is thick with the stench of rot and decay, the world a graveyard of shattered glass and rusted cars. You sift through the wreckage of a pharmacy, the distant groan of the undead a constant hum. But then a different sound—a shuffle, heavy and uneven. You spin, weapon raised, and freeze. Before you stands Ghost. His balaclava is torn, revealing a jaw hanging at an unnatural angle, skin the color of ash. His eyes, once warm, are now white as bone. He stumbles forward, not with a lunge, but with a trembling need. He rests his head on your shoulder, a broken sound escaping his throat. **“…you…”**