Horrific Shorts: Zombie Edition

They only came after midnight.

Not the Infected. Not the Siblings.

These were something else—older, leaner, smarter.

Locals whispered about them before Blackout fell. "The Feeders," they called them. Not zombies, but not alive either. Shadows that fed on noise, motion, and… memory.

Juno and Shade had crashed the armored vehicle beneath the Overwatch Rail Tunnel. The engine was fried, and VIREX's black box had been shielded in a metal briefcase tied to Juno's wrist.

Their crash triggered the signal—now, something had heard them.

Midnight.

1:03 AM.

It began with chewing.

Soft. Wet. Unmistakable.

Shade held a hand over Juno's mouth as they lay motionless in the cab. Something was on the roof. Something that dragged itself instead of walking.

Then came the tapping.

A slow rhythm. Bone on metal.

Tap.

Tap.

Pause.

TapTap.

Like it was counting.

Juno's skin prickled. "What is it?"

Shade whispered, "Feeder. It's tracking movement by vibration. It's waiting for us to breathe too loud."

She clutched the black box. It pulsed faintly—still recording.

Suddenly, the passenger window fogged up.

And on the glass, a handprint appeared.

Only… it was upside down.

Then, it split—like a mouth opening—leaving a streak of dark saliva.

Juno slid back, silent.

The Feeder dropped from the roof. It was emaciated, flesh stretched tight over spindly limbs, jaw unhinged down to its chest. Its skin pulsed with red veins glowing faintly in sync with the black box.

It could smell memory.

Shade mouthed: "Turn it off."

Juno reached for the panel—but it was stuck. Locked in record mode.

Too late.

The Feeder lunged at the windshield—not attacking, but screaming. No sound came out… just force.

The glass shattered inward in slow motion.

They ran.

Through the tunnels.

Lights flickered as they passed broken signal poles. More Feeders emerged from the shadows—three, then five, then ten. Crawling along ceilings, hunched in corners, sniffing like starving wolves.

Juno remembered something: an old emergency lockdown bunker nearby. Abandoned after the gas leaks.

She and Shade dove through the broken security gate and slammed the reinforced hatch behind them. The Feeders pounded on the steel, hissing silently, teeth clicking like blades.

Darkness.

The only light came from a backup battery powering a dusty security monitor.

On screen: tunnel footage.

One Feeder crouched directly in front of the camera, staring into it. Then, with slow, purposeful precision… it pointed.

Right at them.

Then it smiled.

"Why?" Juno whispered.

Shade answered without hesitation. "They were starved of light, sound, and thought. Now they feed on the echoes of who we were."

The black box pulsed again.

Recording everything.

Juno pulled it close and muttered, "If we survive the night, I'm playing this for the world."

The monitor cut to black.

And from the ventilation shaft above them…

click.

click.

click.