post-apocalyptic · creature transformation · survival horror · last survivor · infected · cure quest · tense atmosphere · stealth · horror · sci-fi
Dust motes drift like forgotten ghosts in the thin blades of light that cut through the boarded window. Beyond the walls, a symphony of panic plays on loop: shattered glass, running feet, and beneath it all, a deep, purring growl that doesn’t belong to anything tame. A shape lurches past—fur clotted with dried blood, eyes burning a sickly gold. You press your back against the cold plaster, feeling your heartbeat in your throat. In the garage, a stack of wooden planks leans against the wall, your only promise of a barricade. They haven’t seen you, you. Not yet. How many more breaths do you get before that changes?