Horrific Shorts: Zombie Edition

The new "safe zone" was an old sports arena.

From the outside, it looked abandoned — rust eating at the gates, graffiti covering cracked concrete. But once inside, Mira saw signs of life. Tents lined the bleachers. Fires burned in metal barrels. The air smelled of boiled rice and sweat. A few dozen survivors moved about with the tense rhythm of people who knew safety was a temporary gift.

The man with the rifle — his name was Caleb — led them through the main court. The younger girl trailed close behind him, eyes scanning the newcomers like she was memorizing their faces.

"You'll stay in Section B," Caleb said, pointing toward a cluster of tents near a wall reinforced with scavenged sheet metal. "No wandering after curfew. No hiding bites. Anyone turns — we burn them before sunrise."

"Efficient," Elena muttered.

"Necessary," Caleb replied.

As they settled into a corner of the section, Mira's eyes traced the people around her — a medic stitching up a man's leg, children playing quietly with a frayed soccer ball, a woman sharpening a machete until the blade gleamed. It almost felt like a community. Almost.

Then Mira noticed the cages.

They were tucked into the far side of the court, hidden in shadow. Three of them, each holding someone — or something — that shivered and groaned in the half-dark. The sound wasn't quite human.

She pulled Caleb aside. "You keep infected here?"

He didn't flinch. "We keep suspects. People who were exposed but haven't turned yet. Gives us time to watch."

"And if they don't turn?"

"Then we let them out." His eyes narrowed. "But most do."

That night, Mira couldn't sleep. The low moans from the cages threaded through the dark like a sickness. She turned and saw Elena staring at the ceiling.

"You're thinking about leaving," Mira said.

"I'm thinking about how this place feels a lot like the mansion," Elena whispered. "Rules. Control. And people in cages."

Before Mira could reply, a scream tore through the arena.

They ran toward the cages.

One was empty.

The suspect — a young man with shaking hands and wild eyes — had broken free. Blood smeared the bars. People scrambled, shouting, some grabbing weapons. The medic yelled, "He's not turned! He's just scared!"

But fear had already chosen a target.

Caleb raised his rifle.

The shot cracked through the arena, and the man dropped.

Silence fell.

Caleb turned to the crowd. "This is why we keep them locked up. One mistake and we all die."

Mira felt Elena's hand tighten around her arm. They didn't need to say it — this "safe zone" wasn't going to keep them safe. It was going to turn them into something else.

Something they didn't want to become.

By morning, the two women had made their decision.

And by the next night, they were gone.