Horrific Shorts: Zombie Edition

I should've known.

The way she looked over her shoulder every time we rested.

The way she flinched when I mentioned the name "Jonas."

The way her hand lingered on her backpack, like it held more than supplies.

But I didn't ask.

Because love makes you blind.

And the apocalypse makes you grateful for even broken company.

Her name was Nyla.

Sharp-tongued.

Stronger than she looked.

She once beat two raiders unconscious with a fire extinguisher and didn't lose her breath.

But around me, she was quiet. Tender, even.

I thought I knew her.

I was wrong.

It happened near the coast.

We found a radio tower barely standing—an old place for emergency broadcasts, long abandoned.

We decided to camp there.

Nyla said she needed time to "check something."

I thought she meant rest.

Instead, I caught her whispering into a still-powered transmitter.

A name I hadn't heard in months: Jonas.

My brother.

Missing since the outbreak at Millstone General.

Presumed dead.

"Who were you talking to?" I asked, stepping into the room.

She flinched.

Then lied: "Static. I was just testing the signal."

But I saw the tremble in her lip.

The way her fingers clenched the radio like it might turn to dust if she let go.

I waited.

I didn't push.

Didn't shout.

Just looked at her the way you look at someone you thought you could trust.

That's when she broke.

"Jonas is alive," she whispered.

I felt the floor vanish under me.

"He found me months ago. He… he made me promise not to tell anyone—not even you. Said it was for your own good."

My hands curled into fists.

"For my good? He was my brother. My blood."

Tears welled in her eyes.

She stepped closer. "He was infected… but resisting it. Changing slower. Said there were people studying him. A cure, maybe."

I took a step back. This content is hosted at M|V|LE^MPYR.

All this time… she knew.

"He didn't want you to hope," she said.

"Didn't want you to come looking. He knew you'd never stop."

I turned away.

Because she was right.

The silence between us was worse than any zombie's growl.

I left her that night.

Didn't say goodbye.

But I took the transmitter.

Now, I scan frequencies every night.

Calling out his name like a ghost in the wires.

No reply.

Maybe he's gone.

Maybe she was lying about all of it.

Or maybe she was trying to protect me…

The way I once protected her.

Love and lies are twins in this world.

We keep secrets to save the people we care about.

But some truths fester.

Some wounds don't bleed—they whisper.

She hid the truth.

And now I live inside the echo of it.