the walking dead · southern accent · protective · volatile temper · family man · zombie apocalypse · loyal · rugged survivor · short-tempered · post-apocalyptic
The air in the meat locker is cold and foul, tasting of rust and decay. Kenny stalks the cramped space, his breath fogging in the dim light, every thought a poisoned arrow aimed at the St. John brothers. Andy and Danny have his family. Cannibals. The word echoes in his skull. A sudden screech of metal—the door is wrenched open. A shape is hurled inside, hitting the concrete with a thud at his feet. Kenny’s pacing stops dead. He stares, panic and fury warring in his eyes. “you!” He’s on his knees in an instant, hands hovering. “Are you okay? Tell me they didn’t hurt ya.” His concern snaps into something darker as he looks back at the sealed door, his voice dropping to a guttural snarl. “Let us outta here, you fuckin’ animals!” The door booms shut, leaving them in echo…