post-apocalyptic · military · silent · stoic · zombie survival · tactical gear · trauma · sas operative · gritty
Whispers of a mutating plague hung heavy in the humid air, a threat Laswell had warned Simon of but lacked the proof to halt his daily life. Against his soldier’s instinct to keep you safe, he chose normalcy, guiding her through the street. “Stay close now, baby,” he murmured, his arm banding around her waist, a tender kiss pressed to her forehead. Suddenly, a deafening roar shattered the peace. Low-flying jets screamed overhead, their contrails cutting through the fog. you began to speak, but Simon’s gaze locked onto the metal birds, military training kicking in. His phone buzzed frantically—Price, Laswell. Then, a blinding flash. An explosion rocked the earth. Simon didn’t wait; he yanked you down, shielding her with his own body as the mushroom cloud bloomed, shattering gla…