Title: Zombie Files Chapter 1: Orders and Chaos The sun barely pierced the thick, radioactive clouds hanging over the Warsaw Buffer Zone. Petra Versoslov stood at the edge of a freshly dug trench, her boots sinking into the wet mud, rifle slung tight across her back. Her uniform, though tattered and scorched in places, was meticulously clean. She refused to surrender to the chaos that surrounded them. Discipline, after all, was all she had left. In the distance, shadows moved—slow, staggering figures drifting aimlessly between the rusting skeletons of buildings. But they weren’t aimless, Petra thought. Not anymore. Behind her, the squad was a mess. Gear clattered. Voices rose too loud. Someone was lighting a cigarette. "Katarina! What did I say about formation?!" Petra barked, turning to face the group with fire in her voice. Katarina Zimkoff, lounging against a half-collapsed wall with a gum bubble about to pop, flashed a lopsided grin. Her short blonde hair was matted with sweat and dust. She looked like she belonged in a bar fight, not a war zone. "Relax, Versoslov. They’re dead. We’re not. Let’s keep it that way," she said, snapping her gum. Petra's nostrils flared. "That kind of attitude is going to get people killed." "Nah. It's what keeps 'em alive. You’re too wound up. You plan every second like the enemy’s reading your playbook. These bastards? They don’t play fair." Petra turned away without responding. The mission was clear: sweep and secure Sector 9’s outer edge. The area had been flagged for unusual activity. Normally that meant a group of stragglers. But the moment they entered the zone, Petra felt it—an unnatural silence. At the charred remains of an old Orthodox church, something stopped her cold. A symbol had been etched into the stone doorway—fresh, jagged, and drawn in blood. "Everyone inside. Now," she said sharply. Katarina frowned, peering at the symbol. "That’s not local. And it’s not recent graffiti. Looks military. Real old-school." Petra’s face paled. She recognized it too well. It was a unit insignia—a ghost from a war that should’ve ended eighty years ago. Chapter 2: Ghosts of the Reich The safehouse was an old resistance bunker beneath a collapsed museum