Horrific Shorts: Zombie Edition

The department store was colder than the streets.

It had no power, no warmth, no food left on the shelves—just mannequins twisted in strange poses and broken displays that glinted like teeth in the dark. Lara had chosen the bedding section for the group to sleep. The plush mattresses and curtains offered the illusion of safety. Comfort. Home.

But illusions had a way of rotting faster than corpses.

That night, Lara took first watch while the others slept among dusty blankets and faded dreamcatchers. June curled up beside Tess, who was finally breathing steadily. Milo, sleeping near the aisle, had one hand on his knife even in his dreams.

At 2:11 a.m., Lara heard it.

A faint thud. Not loud. Not dragging. Just… wrong.

She crept toward the sound, her axe in hand. It came from the children's furniture section—a pastel room of forgotten innocence. Toy chests. Tiny beds. Stuffed animals with ripped seams.

And beneath one of those beds… a whisper.

It wasn't words.

It was crying.

High. Ragged. Human.

Lara crouched low, flashlight flickering across the space. "Hello?" she whispered. "Is someone there?"

No reply.

She inched closer, heart pounding. The crying continued—slow, shaky sobs. Then… silence.

She leaned forward. "Hey, it's okay. I'm not going to hurt—"

A hand shot out from under the bed, grabbing her wrist.

Lara screamed and fell back, axe swinging, light jerking wildly.

The crying turned to laughter—sick, gurgling laughter.

And then it crawled out.

Not a child.

A half-turned. Small, yes, but feral. Barely human. Its skin hung in shreds, eyes glowing faintly. Its teeth were filed to points, and dried blood caked its tiny hands.

It screeched and lunged.

Lara rolled and slammed her axe down—once, twice. The body spasmed and stilled.

She sat there, breathing hard, the creature's remains twitching beside her. The others came running—Milo with his knife, June with a curtain rod, Tess dragging herself up.

"What was that?" Milo shouted.

"Under the bed," Lara gasped. "It was waiting. It lured me."

Tess stared at the twitching corpse. "That's not just infection. That thing knew."

June covered her mouth. "It laughed…"

A chill settled over the group. They weren't just fighting mindless rot anymore. Some of the turned—especially the young—were adapting. Learning.

Lurking.

That night, no one slept.

They moved the mattresses to the center of the store. Took shifts in pairs. Kept the lights—what few battery-powered lanterns they had—burning until dawn.

Lara sat by the broken toy shelf, staring into the dark.

There would be no more comfort in beds.

Only the memory of screams beneath them.