Horrific Shorts: Zombie Edition

Lara didn't scream. She couldn't.

Ethan—no, what used to be Ethan—stood in the flickering light of the firehouse, swaying slightly like a broken marionette. His head tilted. His mouth hung open. His body twitched with unnatural, jerking motions. The fever had devoured the man she loved and left a husk that hungered.

She backed toward the corner, gripping the axe handle so tightly her knuckles went white.

"Ethan," she whispered. "I know you're still in there."

A low growl rumbled from his throat. His feet shuffled forward.

Tears blurred her vision. "Please... fight it."

He lunged.

Lara rolled beneath his reach, scraping her shoulder against a cabinet. She screamed—not in fear, but in fury. This wasn't supposed to happen. He'd said "I love you" just before the infection took him. That had meant something. That had to mean he was still there—somewhere, buried beneath the rot.

He charged again.

This time, she swung.

The axe buried deep into his side, and he howled—not like a man in pain, but like an animal denied its prey. He fell back, stumbling over the overturned cot.

"I'm sorry," she sobbed, dragging the axe free, blood dripping across the floor. "I don't want this. I didn't want this."

She tried to steady herself. Her heart beat like a war drum. The infection worked fast, and whatever was left of Ethan was slipping by the second.

He growled again—louder now, more savage.

Then, for one terrifying moment, he stopped.

He looked at her. Looked. Not just stared.

His lips quivered. "L... Lara..."

She froze.

"Ethan?" she whispered.

His body shook violently. His jaw clenched. Blood dribbled from the corners of his mouth as he mouthed words he could no longer form. He stumbled forward, reaching for her—not to attack, but to touch. His fingers trembled as they brushed her cheek.

And then, without warning, he collapsed.

Lara dropped to her knees beside him, cradling his head. "Ethan... please... don't—"

But something was different.

His eyes no longer twitched. The color had returned—slightly. His body stopped convulsing.

"Is he... reversing?" she whispered aloud, hope catching in her throat.

Then she saw it.

Blood. On his lips. Not his own.

Her arm. A fresh wound.

She gasped and looked at the axe—still bloodstained. Still slick.

She'd been grazed. During the struggle.

Ethan had tasted her. Bitten... just enough.

A chill ran through her. She could feel it now—the heat creeping up her shoulder, the sharp sting of corruption already spreading in her veins.

She laughed. Not out of joy—out of madness, maybe. Out of heartbreak.

"I guess we stay together after all."

She crawled beside him, curled into his side, and waited. For the fever. For the change. For whatever came next.