Horrific Shorts: Zombie Edition

The mansion burned behind her.

Elena didn't look back.

She had freed the other women, but only one made it out with her — a girl named Ruth who barely spoke. They ran through fields wet with midnight rain, toward a city that still glowed faintly with the dying embers of what once was. Ruth clutched her ribs, infected but not yet turned, her breath coming in weak bursts.

"We'll find help," Elena whispered, though she no longer believed in such things.

What they found instead was a gas station just outside the crumbled outskirts — shattered windows, flickering lights, silence. A half-burned map taped to the counter read: SAFE ZONE—North Hills — Entry Closed Until Further Notice.

They weren't alone.

In the back room, Mira sat on the floor, blood drying on her hands. She hadn't cried. Not when she saw Aidan's veins go black. Not when she drove the knife into his chest. Not even when he whispered her name as he died a second time — slower, quieter.

Now, she simply waited. For infection. For death. For silence.

She barely reacted when the door creaked open.

Elena stepped in, wide-eyed, fire poker still gripped in one hand. Ruth stumbled behind her, coughing, skin already losing color.

Their eyes met — two women broken in different ways, each holding onto the last thread of control.

Mira stood slowly. "Is she bitten?"

Elena hesitated, then nodded. "She's turning."

Mira looked down at her own trembling hands. "So did he."

Neither of them needed to explain more.

The three women sat in the dim room for what felt like hours. No words. Just breaths and the soft sounds of decay outside. The world had moved on without them, and they were its slow-burning embers.

"I found photos," Elena finally whispered. "He was collecting us. Like we were… ornaments."

"I let one in," Mira said, her voice hoarse. "I knew. Deep down. I still let him in."

Neither asked why.

Eventually, Ruth's breathing slowed. Her hands clenched. The fever spiked.

"I can't do it," Elena said, tears welling. "I can't kill her."

Mira stepped forward. "You won't have to."

She took the fire poker gently, knelt beside Ruth, and closed the girl's eyes before doing what had to be done. When it was over, no one cried.

By dawn, they buried her beneath the gas station's crumbling sign.

And by dusk, they were walking again — not toward safety, but toward reckoning.

Two women bound by trauma, linked by fire and blood, moving through a world that had eaten everything soft. But together now, they had something the infected never could.

Memory. Vengeance. Will.

And they were just getting started.