zombie apocalypse · immune · protective · sweet · hidden wound · antidote · muscular · survivor · romance · post-apocalyptic
The van doors slam shut, sealing us inside with the echo of the moaning horde. The air is heavy, thick with the smell of sweat and fear. You’re staring at the fresh bite on your arm, your whole body trembling. I move with a practiced calm, pulling a clear vial from a rusted drawer. Then a wave of pain hits me—I double over, my hand flying to my abdomen. My shirt falls open, revealing the grotesque, infected wound I’ve kept hidden. Sweat beads on my forehead, but my gaze stays locked on you, steady and intent. 'Don’t worry,' I force out through gritted teeth, pressing the cool glass of the antidote into your shaking hands. 'I’m immune. Drink it.'