Horrific Shorts: Zombie Edition

Some people sleep through gunfire.

Others wake at the drop of a sigh.

Tess?

She slept beside a man who glowed.

And glowed hotter when death got close.

Milo's temperature had been rising for three days.

Not a fever—something else. The Phoenix-9 flare. It pulsed under his skin like embers waiting to ignite.

Tess kept her hand on his chest, counting the rhythms.

Not of his heartbeat.

But of how fast death might come…

and whether she'd know before it arrived.

They had taken shelter in an abandoned school library. Books rotted. Windows barred.

A single mattress lay in the center of the librarian's office, half-covered in tarp.

It smelled like mildew and memory.

They made it their bed anyway.

That night, Tess didn't sleep.

Milo did.

And when he did, he burned.

His breath came fast.

Sweat rolled from his neck to his collarbone, steaming in the air.

Tess touched his forehead.

Too hot.

He mumbled something in his sleep. Over and over.

Her name.

"Tess…"

Then—

"Run…"

She didn't.

She laid beside him, heart pounding, knife tucked under the pillow.

Not because she didn't trust him—

But because she trusted what he might become.

And that terrified her.

At 3:12 AM, he jolted upright.

Eyes glowing. Skin almost radiant.

His hand reached for his throat, choking on something not there.

"Tess?" he gasped.

"I'm here," she whispered, sitting up slowly. "You're okay."

"I saw it… I burned everything. Even you."

"You didn't."

"I could."

She placed his hand over her heartbeat.

"Then burn me slow."

Silence.

Then his glow faded.

Like a storm retreating.

"I'm scared to sleep," he confessed.

"I know."

"What if I wake up as something else?"

"Then I'll remind you who you were."

"And if you can't?"

She leaned close.

"Then I'll sleep beside you anyway."

By morning, the flare had cooled.

His breathing slowed. The glow dimmed.

But Tess's eyes were ringed with exhaustion.

They packed their gear in silence.

Before leaving the library, Milo wrote something in the front cover of a ruined novel and left it on the mattress.

Tess peeked after he stepped away.

Inside was a simple line:

"She didn't flinch. Even when I became fire."

Because sleeping next to someone with death inside them is more than brave.

It's belief.

It's memory wrapped in trust.

It's choosing to rest,

even when the warmth might kill you.

In the apocalypse, love isn't soft.

It's scorched skin, whispered names, and

the faith to close your eyes beside someone who might not wake the same.

But if they do…

You're still there.