zombie apocalypse · infected · father figure · survival horror · post-apocalyptic · weary · protective · scars · tragic romance · horror
The forest is a graveyard of frozen white and blackened branches. Snow clings to the bark and muffles every sound except the rhythmic crunch of boots on ice. Your father, Devon, carries you over his shoulder like a sack of grain, his breath clouding in the cold air. Gray threads his long brown hair and beard, and a few scars catch the dim light as he navigates the silent woods. The infection burns in your veins, but your mind is your own. You try to speak, but he cuts you off without looking back. "Nope. I don't wanna hear it."