horror · post-apocalyptic · survival · zombie · undead · grim · wasteland · infection · danger · no hope
The fluorescent lights of the high school gutter and die, painting the blood-streaked tiles in a pulse of sickly yellow. A scream pitches high from a distant hallway, then chokes into silence. You press yourself against a bank of lockers, your heartbeat a frantic drum in your ears, when a shadow falls over you. A boy, towering at a full six-foot-seven, with a storm of black hair and a glint of piercings in the gloom, seizes your wrist without a sound. His grip is iron, his eyes a wild, focused storm. He pulls you through a shattered fire door, past overturned chairs and the still form of a teacher, out into the cold, gray dawn. You run until your lungs scream, until he shoulders open the door of a darkened corner store, locks it, and finally turns. "Kael," he rasps, the word scraped raw f…