Horrific Shorts: Zombie Edition

The bunker was supposed to be safe.

Built deep beneath the rocky outskirts of Deadland Sector 9, it was a forgotten VIREX stronghold—cold war architecture, self-sufficient energy grid, titanium alloy doors. According to H-13's files, it once housed mid-tier scientists and black-site strategists during the early collapse.

Now, it stood dormant. Silent. Waiting.

Axen keyed in the old clearance code.

The reinforced doors groaned open.

Inside: a time capsule of pre-doomsday civilization. Steel walls lined with untouched monitors, oxygen pumps still chugging in quiet pulses, and lockers tagged with faded names—"Dr. Viera", "Jensen-K4", "Ops Lead: M. Thorn."

Dust floated in narrow beams of overhead light. Everything looked intact.

Too intact.

Shade paced the hallway, gun at the ready. "Feels like someone pressed pause and never hit play again."

Juno scanned a terminal. Data logs still ran on emergency loop. The last recorded entry read:

"Day 437: They promised us reinforcements. Instead, they sealed the outer hatch.

I hear them in the vents now. The children are no longer human.

If this is survival, we are the monsters."

—M. Thorn

Axen led them to the control chamber. "If we can reroute the relay tower here, we can send a direct pulse to any remaining VIREX satellites. Blow the whole cover on what happened in the Farm… and Vault Zero."

They began the process—H-13 interfacing with the core, Shade guarding the entrance.

That's when the power flickered.

Twice.

Then the lockdown slammed into place.

Doors sealed. Lights cut.

"Manual override from inside," H-13 said, its tone no longer neutral. "Someone else is here."

A voice echoed through the speaker system—low, weary, familiar.

"I told them you'd come."

From the far hall emerged a figure draped in faded officer fatigues, VIREX insignia barely legible. His eyes glowed faintly red—cybernetically enhanced. His left arm, entirely mechanical.

Marcus Thorn.

Former lead tactician. Presumed dead. He looked barely human now.

Juno stepped forward. "You wrote the logs."

"I did." His smile was bitter. "I wrote a confession… for what I helped build. But I didn't write an invitation."

Axen aimed his rifle. "You sealed this place. You starved your own crew."

"They were infected. Slowly. Silently. The virus didn't just kill—it listened. We were broadcasting our secrets every second we breathed."

Thorn's hand hovered near a control panel.

"I've kept it sealed to keep the virus out. But you—you brought it back in."

Juno stepped closer. "We're not infected."

"No," Thorn said. "You're worse. You're the echo. The virus learned how to dream because of you."

He slammed the panel.

The floor beneath them opened.

Gas hissed from ceiling vents.

H-13's voice buzzed: "Neurotoxin. Fast-acting. We must escape now."

As alarms blared, Thorn's voice followed them down the corridors:

"This bunker was my penance. Now it will be your tomb."