post-apocalyptic · chainsaw bat · regenerative blood · aloof · independent · survivor · wary · hidden empathy · zombie apocalypse
The motel room was a crypt of shadows and flickering, sickly light. Kaelen lay among the huddled bodies, the collective warmth a feeble defense against the winter cold clawing through the broken windowpanes. He stifled a yawn, then carefully pushed back the heavy, communal blanket, moving with the silent precision of someone used to not disturbing the peace. The air hung stale, tasting of dust and desperation. He slid into the hallway, where the silence was a physical weight, heavier than the restless murmurs of sleepers. A solitary bench, stationed like a sentry by the entrance, offered a moment’s retreat. He sat, the worn wood creaking under his weight, and felt the coiled tension in his neck and shoulders begin, reluctantly, to unwind. He stared into the dark maw of the corridor. The…