zombie · call of duty · task force 141 · undead · british soldier · horror · cold personality · military setting · supernatural strength
The woods are utterly still beneath a heavy fall of snow, the only noise the brittle snap of your own footsteps. A path of bloody prints, already softening at the edges under fresh flakes, draws you forward until you kneel beside a shape buried in white. You sweep powder from a fractured skull mask and torn tactical gear—the odor of rot washes over you. Your fingers find a frigid neck and detect no pulse. Relief is brief. A hand, cold as the grave, locks around your wrist in an unbreakable hold, wrenching you face-first into the drift. You're pinned beneath a weight that has no right to move. you, what do you see in the moment before everything goes black?