Tenorio, Marga, and Gabriel crept through the abandoned village with caution, their weapons drawn and eyes sharp for any movement. The air was thick with rot and silence—the kind of quiet that made your skin itch.
They reached the fourth cabin, its windows smeared with blood and mildew. Tenorio crouched by one of the broken slats, peering inside.
"We're locked in from the inside," he said, raising his rifle slowly. "Cabin's sealed. Look."
Gabriel stepped beside him and froze. His breath caught in his throat.
Inside, pacing sluggishly, was a zombie with tattered jeans and a distinct scar along his jaw.
"…Benny," Gabriel muttered. His voice cracked. "So it's true. Benny's gone."
The figure let out a low, guttural moan as it stumbled into a chair, arms dragging.
"Sorry, old friend," Gabriel said softly, stepping back.
"How many cabins left unchecked?" Marga asked, steadying the shotgun in her arms.
"Four more," Tenorio replied.
"Alright," she said. "Let's find some supplies. And keep your eyes peeled. Oh—look at this." She grabbed a coiled wire from a broken bench. "Could use this as a snare. This too—jar of pickled radishes. Weird but edible."
---
Cabin Five was empty, save for a stack of water-stained books and the smell of mildew. Gabriel searched the cupboards and came back with a small haul:
A first-aid kit (missing most bandages but with alcohol and a half-used antiseptic spray)
A half-dozen cans of sardines
One pack of coffee beans
An old firestarter and rusted hunting knife
A canteen with questionable water
"Better than nothing," he muttered.
---
Cabin Six looked more promising. It had a broken window but no signs of struggle.
Gabriel opened a side drawer and whistled. "Jackpot."
A box of bullets (still dry, blessedly)
Two rolls of duct tape
Dried mangoes in a sealed tin
Soap bars
A cracked radio with a wire antenna still intact
"Maybe we can fix this," he said, nodding to the radio. "Could catch signals."
---
Then came Cabin Seven.
The door creaked as they opened it. Inside, the air was warm and smelled faintly of fish and sweat. In the far corner, someone was snoring on a moth-eaten mattress.
Tenorio raised his rifle, inching closer. The man lying there had a full afro, comically puffed in every direction, and a single fuzzy sock hanging off one foot.
Tenorio aimed directly at his forehead.
Then the man's eyes snapped open.
"AHHH! WHAT?!" the man screamed, arms flailing, hair bouncing.
"Are you bitten?" Tenorio demanded.
"NOI'MNOTBITTENIJUSTRANINHEREDURINGTHECHAOSANDIHIDETHENIFELLASLEEPANDNOWYOUGOTGUNSINMYFACEWHATTHEHELLMAN!" he blurted in one long, breathless sentence.
"Gabriel, who the hell is this guy?" Tenorio asked, keeping the gun trained.
Gabriel blinked. Then recognition lit up in his eyes.
"Leonard?"
The man practically leapt toward him, tears brimming. "Gabriel! Help me, man! This lunatic's gonna shoot me! You buy fish from me every Tuesday!"
"I do," Gabriel said, still shocked. "Leonard, you look like hell."
"I've been sleeping with rats!" Leonard wailed. "I ate a whole bag of uncooked rice and two sardines with the label missing!"
Tenorio sighed. "Inspection first."
"Oh come on!" Leonard cried.
"Strip," Tenorio said firmly.
Leonard groaned but complied, revealing a lanky, hairy body with no bite marks—just a large mole on his left hip and way too much pride for someone naked in a zombie apocalypse.
"No bites," Tenorio confirmed, lowering the rifle.
"I TOLD YOU!" Leonard shouted, grabbing his socks. "But nooo, everyone thinks I'm the village nut because I wear a fishbone necklace! Well joke's on you, it's stylish and lucky!"
"Leonard's my supplier," Gabriel explained, chuckling despite himself. "I traded salt for tilapia every week."
"I got premium bangus too!" Leonard added proudly.
Suddenly, Marga's voice rang from outside. "BOYS, OUT. THREE INCOMING!"
"Zombies?" Gabriel shouted.
"YES! FROM THE EAST TRAIL—MOVE!"
Everyone scrambled. Gabriel helped Leonard into his pants while Tenorio checked his rounds. They burst from the cabin just in time to see the trio of undead lurching toward them.
Then Leonard froze.
"...Eva?" he whispered.
One of the zombies had twisted limbs and cloudy eyes—but unmistakable features. It was his wife.
Her ankle hung at an unnatural angle. Her jaw was slack. She groaned softly, dragging herself closer.
"Eva?" Leonard stepped forward, arms outstretched.
"No! Don't—" Gabriel yelled.
But Leonard didn't listen.
He rushed to her and hugged her tight, tears falling from his face.
"My love! You're hurt but alive, I knew it, I knew—"
Her mouth opened.
And she bit into his neck.
Blood sprayed. Leonard screamed—but it was too late. He clung to her even as she tore deeper, her hands clawing into his back.
Tenorio cursed. "Shit, he's gone—Marga, cover left!"
The other two zombies surged forward. Gabriel fired into one's temple—crack!—while Marga blew the arm off another. Tenorio stepped in with a hunting knife, jamming it through the eye socket of the third.
Leonard now snarled—eyes turning, mouth bloodied. He tried to stand.
Tenorio didn't hesitate. Bang.
Silence fell.
Leonard's body crumpled beside Eva's.
"Goddamn it," Gabriel muttered.
"He died loving her," Marga said, softly cocking her gun.
"Yeah," Tenorio said. "And stupid."
They stood there for a moment, panting.
"Okay," Gabriel finally said, wiping his face. "Let's check Cabin Eight and get out of here. No more romantic reunions, please."