Horrific Shorts: Zombie Edition

The altar was made of bone.

Not metaphorically—real femurs, ribs, and vertebrae, fused together with some kind of black resin. It stood in the center of a crumbling medical theater beneath the old Virex facility, now overtaken by the Cult of Decay. Candles flickered around it, casting long shadows across the chamber, while the smell of formaldehyde and burning flesh tainted the air.

Lena and Ward had followed the trail of missing survivors here. But they hadn't expected a ritual in progress.

"Don't move," whispered Ward, as robed figures surrounded the altar, humming low and guttural. In their center, a girl—barely twelve—lay strapped to the structure. Still breathing. Still conscious. Her eyes flicked toward Lena's.

"She's alive," Lena hissed. "We're not too late."

From the far end of the chamber, a figure emerged—tall, skeletal, with his face hidden behind a mask of rotted wood carved into a permanent grin.

"Brothers," the figure spoke. "We begin the Sacrifice Protocol. Let the blood unlock the Vessel's promise."

Lena lifted her rifle.

Ward put a hand on her arm. "Wait. If we fire, they'll kill her first."

The cultists began to chant.

A machine behind the altar rumbled to life, ancient wires sparking as a greenish serum flowed into a syringe the size of a forearm. It hovered over the girl's chest—ready to inject.

Lena couldn't wait.

She fired.

Chaos erupted.

Cultists scattered as bullets tore through robes and bone. The lead cultist turned, snarling inhumanly, and lunged. Ward met him halfway, the butt of his rifle smashing through the wooden mask, revealing a decayed face beneath—half-human, half-zombie.

"What the hell are they?" Ward shouted, grappling.

"Hybrids!" Lena screamed, cutting the girl loose from the altar. "Failed experiments!"

With the girl in her arms, Lena turned and ran—Ward behind her, dragging a bleeding leg. The hallway twisted into a maze of surgical rooms and rusted containment pods. Everywhere, broken screens displayed the same phrase:

SACRIFICE PROTOCOL INITIATED

CONTAINMENT COMPROMISED

They found a steel door at the end of the hallway. Locked.

Behind them, footsteps. Wet, dragging ones.

Lena slammed her palm against the override console. "Come on, come on—"

The screen blinked:

Override requires blood sample: keyholder.

A hiss.

The girl stepped forward. Without hesitation, she pressed her thumb to the scanner. It accepted her blood instantly.

The door creaked open.

They stumbled out into the forest, just as sirens howled beneath them. Explosions rocked the facility. The Cult was purging the chamber.

"Why did it respond to her?" Ward asked, panting.

"She's not just another kid," Lena said, eyes on the girl. "She was the sacrifice. But also… the key."

As the smoke rose behind them, Lena whispered to herself, "What else is locked?"