Horrific Shorts: Zombie Edition

The storm didn't die when the tower fell.

It screamed.

Red lightning spiraled into the clouds like veins pulled from a corpse, then vanished in a vacuumed silence. The Stormwalkers collapsed in twitching heaps. The spire's core exploded in a whisper, folding in on itself with a sound like static breathing.

Juno stood among the wreckage, chest heaving, face lit by the flickering fire of a broken world.

"We need to move," Shade said, wiping blood from his brow. "Sector 9's collapsing. Storm or no storm, it's unstable."

"There's one way left," H-13 said, holding out a cracked datapad. "An emergency ferry route. Hidden. Military-class evac from before the fall. Heads toward the Drift—a neutral zone with no viral density. If we can reach it—"

"We're out," Juno finished.

They followed what remained of the broken map down to the coastline—where sea met fog like two ghosts touching fingertips. There, half-buried in kelp and ash, sat an old ferry terminal. Rusted. Humming with flickers of forgotten power.

And floating offshore, barely visible through the mist, was the ferry.

No name on its hull. Just a single green light blinking on its bridge.

"This thing looks like it's been waiting for us," Shade muttered.

"Automated," H-13 said. "VIREX used it to ferry data, assets, even test subjects out of hot zones. It should still be hard-coded to respond to serum carriers."

Juno stepped onto the dock—and the gangway lowered itself.

But something in her chest tightened.

A warning.

As they boarded, the ferry doors hissed shut behind them. Too fast.

The air inside smelled like copper and dust.

No crew.

Just rows of metal seats.

A dull voice echoed from unseen speakers:

"Welcome to Ferry Route Zeta-9.

Passengers: Identified.

Cargo: Accepted.

Destination: Reclamation."

H-13 froze. "That's not the Drift. That's a reclamation center. A reverse-processing unit. It absorbs escaped mutations and rewrites them."

"We were never meant to escape," Juno realized. "This route was a trap for those who got too far."

The lights dimmed. Metal restraints began to rise from the floor.

"Brace yourselves!" Shade shouted, kicking over the nearest console.

Juno leapt to the ferry's control room. Screens blinked with biometric overlays of her, Shade, and H-13—scanned, analyzed, targeted.

"Auto-pilot engaged.

Begin extraction sequence."

"No," she growled.

She plunged her arm into the main interface, letting her serum-fed blood surge through the cables.

The ferry shook.

Lights burst.

Sparks rained down.

And with a scream of iron and intention—Juno rewrote the route.

"Manual override," the speakers coughed.

Outside, the ferry shifted course—no longer toward Reclamation, but into a new heading: UNKNOWN.

The ocean hissed as the ship powered forward.

Shade slumped beside her.

"That was the last lie," he said. "The ferry wasn't salvation."

"No," Juno replied, eyes locked on the horizon. "But now… it might be freedom."