Horrific Shorts: Zombie Edition

The desert winds howled across the ancient ruins of Black Hollow, a once-forgotten fortress now serving as the last line of defense for the surviving Resistance fighters. The sun bled across the horizon, painting the sky in shades of crimson and fire, a fitting backdrop to the nightmare about to unfold.

Standing atop the jagged stone entrance, General Viktor 'Bloodfang' Kruger crossed his arms, his expression unreadable beneath the shadow of his crimson beret. His eyes, however, burned with absolute certainty—the certainty of a predator who had already won.

Behind him, ranks of undead warriors stood motionless, their bodies grotesquely enhanced by the Necrostrain virus. Their flesh was a patchwork of decay and bio-augmentation, their eyes hollow voids that pulsed with an eerie glow. This was his army, his masterpiece—the Legion of the Damned.

Kruger turned to Sergeant Darius 'Hellhound' Rook, who stood beside him, fingers twitching over his sidearm. "We have them cornered," Rook growled. "They won't last the night."

Kruger smirked. "They won't last an hour."

He raised his hand, and the Legion stirred, a ripple of movement passing through their ranks. Then, with a simple downward motion, he gave the order—the attack began.

Inside the fortress, Commander Elias Thorn tightened his grip on his assault rifle as the first wave of undead slammed against the gates. Dust rained from the ceiling as the walls trembled.

"Hold the line!" Thorn barked, but his voice wavered. He had seen what Kruger's monsters could do. They weren't mindless husks—they were intelligent, tactical, relentless.

Gunfire erupted as the Resistance soldiers unleashed a hail of bullets. The first ranks of zombies fell, but those behind them climbed over their fallen, unfazed by pain or death. Then came the shock troops—grotesque hulks of rotting flesh reinforced with crude metal plating. Bullets barely slowed them down.

Thorn cursed under his breath. "We're not going to make it…"

Then, the gates exploded inward.

Kruger stepped through the wreckage, the flames reflecting off his obsidian combat knife, his face untouched by the chaos. Like a god of war stepping onto his battlefield.

The gunfire slowed as fear gripped the Resistance fighters.

Kruger exhaled. "Kill them all."

The Legion surged forward, overwhelming the defenders in a flood of claws and fangs. Screams filled the air. Thorn tried to fight, unloading his rifle at the approaching general—only for Kruger to dodge with inhuman speed and drive his knife into Thorn's chest.

The commander gasped, blood spilling from his lips.

Kruger leaned in, whispering, "Welcome to the new world."

As Thorn's body hit the ground, the last of the Resistance crumbled. The fortress of Black Hollow had fallen.

Kruger turned to his army and smiled. "Onward."