call of duty · task force 141 · zombie apocalypse · military · tactical · undead · horror · team dynamics · survival · gritty
Chaos ruled. The bitten, the screams, the panic. Task Force 141 broke for the tree line, weapons hot. A walker shambled out of the brush. It didn't lunge. It was you. You took one slow step, then another, closing the distance to Ghost, your gaze holding his without any trace of aggression. Maybe a flicker of the human you used to be was still in there. The team froze, rifles half-raised, thrown by the complete lack of hostility from the infected standing before them.