Horrific Shorts: Zombie Edition

They landed hard.

Metal scraped skin. The world spun. Gravity felt... inconsistent.

Juno groaned and opened her eyes. She was inside a vehicle—rusted leather seats, shattered windows, blinking dashboard. The scent of mildew and ash filled the cabin.

Shade sat in the front passenger seat, dazed, blood at his temple.

H-13 was crumpled against the back door, muttering equations under his breath.

And Juno—she was in the back seat of a taxi.

A taxi with no driver.

Outside, the city loomed in shades of gray and amber. Skyscrapers leaned like exhausted corpses. Roads twisted into the distance but never crossed. A thousand street signs pointed to nowhere. The sky was frozen—clouds in mid-swirl, sun a dull white disk stuck between rising and setting.

Then the meter clicked.

FARE: MEMORY / IDENTITY / TIME

Juno snapped upright.

"This isn't real," she whispered.

H-13 touched the window, eyes wide. "No. This is Dead City—a simulation layer built to mimic neural collapse. We're inside a transportation failsafe. The AI assumes we're dying and is trying to transport us to our final memory anchor."

"So it made a taxi?" Shade asked.

"It's… metaphorical," H-13 shrugged. "VIREX liked drama."

The taxi started driving on its own.

No engine noise.

Just motion.

Juno leaned out the window—and saw herself on the sidewalks again. Different versions. Broken. Lost. One was crawling. One was sprinting. One just sat on a bench and screamed into her hands.

The street names changed as they drove past.

REGRET AVE

FORGET-ME-NOT ROAD

HOLLOW MEMORY WAY

Shade gritted his teeth. "We need to get out."

"There is no out," H-13 said. "Not until it reaches the destination it thinks is your deathbed."

Juno closed her eyes. "Then we change the destination."

She reached over the seat and touched the old touchscreen GPS unit.

It blinked once—then hissed static.

RE-ROUTING... ERROR. PATH UNKNOWN.

Suddenly, the taxi screeched and jerked to a stop.

Ahead, the road had ended. Not broken, not collapsed—just stopped.

Beyond it: empty white space.

The edge of the simulation.

The end of mind.

Juno pushed open the door and stepped out.

A voice came from the driver's seat.

She turned.

A driver had appeared—gaunt, eyeless, stitched mouth. Hands on the wheel.

"You are not finished," the stitched man rasped. "You do not pay. You do not exit."

Juno stood her ground.

"We're rewriting this route."

The stitched driver smiled—a terrible grin.

"Then drive."

The wheel turned.

Juno understood.

She climbed into the front seat.

Her hands touched the wheel—and the world shifted.

The buildings realigned. The clouds spun in reverse. The taxi transformed—metal twisting, lights flaring, wheels turning electric.

Juno looked back at her team.

"Next stop: reality."

And then they drove.

Off the edge.

Into the unknown.