Horrific Shorts: Zombie Edition

There was blood on his neck.

Not a lot—just a smear, just enough.

But it changed everything.

They'd made it to a safehouse on the upper floors of an abandoned hotel, after crossing the wire between death and survival.

Tess's hands were still raw.

Milo's shoulders ached.

But they were alive.

Together.

Alone.

And that night, for the first time in too long…

They let the war fall away.

"I can't feel my fingers," Milo joked as he stripped off his jacket.

"You're lucky you didn't lose your arm," Tess said, unbuckling her harness.

"You worried about me?"

She gave him a look. "You keep asking like it's news."

They shared a ration bar and some whiskey they'd found in a cracked mini-fridge. The warmth came quick—faster than reason, stronger than fear.

Tess traced the burn scar on Milo's collarbone.

He didn't flinch.

He traced the knife wound under her ribs.

She didn't stop him.

The kiss started slow.

Not desperate—deliberate.

She pressed her mouth to his with the softness of someone remembering touch.

He held her like he was learning it all over again.

They didn't talk.

Not at first.

Just tangled limbs and half-removed gear, breaths syncing in the low light of a dying candle.

For one hour, the apocalypse didn't exist.

For one hour, they forgot the world was trying to kill them.

But when Tess pulled back, her fingers found the blood on his neck.

Fresh.

Unfamiliar.

Her smile vanished.

"Milo," she whispered, "where did this come from?"

He blinked, disoriented. "What?"

She dabbed the blood. "This… this wasn't from the climb."

They both froze.

Then frantically checked for wounds.

None matched.

"Did something scratch you?" she asked.

"No… no, I don't think—"

He paused.

"I helped that kid over the barricade earlier. He had a split lip…"

"But what if—"

"I'm fine."

"You don't know that."

The room turned cold.

Not from temperature.

From fear.

She backed away.

Half-dressed. Breath shaking. Eyes wide.

And he hated it—that look on her face.

Like he was already lost.

Like she was already mourning.

"Tess…" he said softly.

"I know," she replied. "It's probably nothing. But it could be everything."

They slept on opposite ends of the room that night.

No kisses. No warmth.

Just silence.

And the space between two people who had just remembered what they could lose.

In the morning, Milo was fine.

No fever. No signs.

But the intimacy wasn't undone.

Only shifted.

No longer about bodies pressed close—

But hearts laid bare.

Because in a world ruled by infection…

Every touch is a risk.

Every kiss a gamble.

But the biggest danger isn't the virus—

It's what love awakens

when you finally let yourself feel again.

Even when it might cost you everything.