Horrific Shorts: Zombie Edition

Milo hadn't spoken since the night of the child-ghoul.

His hands shook whenever he touched his knife. He wouldn't look at the bloodstain Lara had scrubbed from the tiles. Even Tess couldn't get more than a nod out of him. Something had changed—something irreversible.

That morning, they voted to move again. The store was no longer safe. If smart infected were real—lurkers who mimicked fear and used it to bait prey—then no building, no hiding spot, no barricade was enough.

June scouted ahead through alleyways with Lara. Tess stayed close to Milo, limping through cracked sidewalks and broken glass.

They stopped for shelter in a wrecked preschool. The walls were covered in peeling murals of smiling suns and animals wearing clothes. A fake jungle gym sat in the center of the main room, half-collapsed and stained with soot.

And then they heard it.

Scraping.

The unmistakable sound of fingernails on wood.

Tess held up her hand. Everyone froze.

From the hallway beyond the classroom door came low growling. Two shadows shuffled forward—adult infected, their eyes glazed, jaws slack.

But between them was something else.

A man. Not infected.

Bleeding from the side. Limping.

"Help," he croaked. "Please."

The infected weren't attacking him.

They were herding him.

Lara raised her axe. "Trap," she whispered.

The man collapsed. The infected paused—then spotted the group.

They charged.

Lara and June went left, drawing one of the infected away. Tess tried to pull Milo back, but he stood frozen, eyes wide.

The second infected came straight for him.

It snarled. Fast. Relentless.

Tess reached for her brother. "Milo, MOVE!"

But he didn't.

Not until the creature was inches away.

Not until its mouth opened, ready to bite.

Then he struck.

Milo's knife buried deep in its temple. Once. Twice. He screamed as he stabbed again, blood spraying across his face, chest, hands. The creature spasmed and dropped. Still. Silent.

Milo stood over it, chest heaving.

No one moved.

Then he dropped the knife. Fell to his knees. And vomited.

Tess knelt beside him, hand on his back. "It's okay," she whispered. "You're okay."

"I killed it," he gasped. "I—I didn't even think. I just… did it."

Lara returned with June, who had a bruised shoulder but no bites. "You saved yourself," Lara said gently. "That's what matters."

Milo shook his head. "No. It wasn't just that. I wanted to. It felt like I had to kill something. And that scares me."

"You're not turning, Milo," June said. "You're surviving."

Tess helped him to his feet. "First time's the hardest. After that… you remember why you did it. And who you saved."

They left the preschool quietly, stepping over blood and toys.

Milo didn't look back.

That night, by the campfire, he cleaned his knife in silence.

He was still himself.

But now… he knew what it felt like to take a life.

And he'd never be the same.