Horrific Shorts: Zombie Edition

It wasn't the bite that broke him.

It was the way she whispered his name… as her teeth sank in.

They found the couple in a burned-out bus, engine melted to the road, emergency exit wide open to the gray sky.

One was already gone—head caved in, blood long dried.

The other was tied to the seat with a silk scarf.

Still warm.

Still breathing.

Until she wasn't.

Her name was June.

She'd been traveling with her partner—Theo—since the first outbreak. Through the riots. The checkpoints. The blackouts.

Their story was on the walls of that bus.

Photos.

Love notes scribbled on receipts.

A small ring box, crushed but still glowing with purpose.

Milo read a letter they'd written together:

"If we turn, let it be together."

But it hadn't gone that way.

June was fading fast.

Infected from a shoulder wound, shivering under a thermal blanket Tess had wrapped around her.

Milo checked her vitals. "She's got hours. Maybe."

Tess stood watch, silent. Watching how June looked at Theo's broken body with more love than grief.

"I should've let him bite me," June rasped.

"No," Tess said gently. "You kept going. That matters."

"Not without him. It never did."

Then June looked at Milo. "Can I ask… something strange?"

He nodded.

"If it happens… will you let me remember him? Just for a second?"

They didn't understand.

Not until she turned.

It was fast—her eyes glossed, her back arched—

But her voice was still hers.

"Milo," she whispered, "hold my hand."

He did.

"Tell me his name."

"Theo."

She smiled.

Then her teeth found his wrist.

Milo didn't flinch.

Because he saw it in her face:

She wasn't attacking.

She was remembering.

One last touch.

One last kiss of blood.

Tess ended it quickly. Cleanly.

And gently.

They buried them behind the bus. Side by side.

Used the ring box as a headstone.

Milo didn't speak for a while.

When he finally did, it was nightfall.

"She didn't bite out of hunger."

Tess nodded. "She bit out of memory."

"I think that's worse."

"No," she whispered. "It's human."

They sat by the fire in silence.

Milo wrapped his bandaged wrist.

"No infection," he said. "I checked twice."

Tess exhaled. "You scared me."

"You've seen worse."

"But I felt this one."

Then, softly, Tess reached for his hand.

"I won't ever let you turn alone," she said.

He squeezed her fingers. "Same."

Because in a world full of gnashing teeth—

the softest bites

are the ones that leave the deepest scars.

And sometimes, the last thing love gives you…

Is pain that feels almost gentle.