Furzombie - a gay furry zombie apocalypse

Sanctuary - Joshua

I released the clutch, my hands trembling on the wheel, just as a zombie slammed into the side of the car. Its gnashing teeth scraped against the window, and its filthy hands clawed at the metal, leaving streaks of grime and blood. My heart shot into my throat. The sudden jolt of terror sent a wave of nausea through me as I revved the engine hard, tyres screeching against the cracked pavement.

The car surged forward, leaving the alleyway behind. In the rearview mirror, the zombie staggered after me, its body jerking unnaturally. My breathing came in shallow gasps, the adrenaline pumping like a drumbeat in my ears.

The main road opened up ahead, scattered with debris and abandoned vehicles. I weaved through the wreckage, my knuckles white against the steering wheel. Broken glass glittered like shards of ice on the asphalt from store fronts. Each bend, each turn, felt like a gamble. Every shadow held the potential for something far worse than death.

As I drove further out of the suburbs the houses began to thin out, the suffocating urban sprawl giving way to the rolling fields of the countryside. For a brief moment, the sight almost calmed me. Almost. But the occasional burned-out car or overturned truck dragged me back to the grim reality. Nothing was untouched by the apocalypse.

The farther I drove, the less I saw of the world I once knew. Each abandoned home was a silent monument to someone's last desperate moments. A smashed windshield here, a bloodstain on the concrete there—it all told stories I didn't want to hear.

The occasional car in my path forced me to swerve onto the grass verge or crunch over the pavement, my eyes darting between the road ahead and the fuel gauge. I prayed the tank would hold out just a little longer.

Finally, the village came into view, its small, familiar silhouette rising from the fading daylight. The co-op store sat at the centre near the crossroads, its once-bright sign now smeared with filth and grime. The village had always been quiet, but now it felt like a ghost town, stripped of life.

Why had Mum chosen to live here? Maybe it reminded her of where we grew up, of simpler times. She'd said she liked how close it was to me, how easy it was for me to visit. But I hadn't visited enough.

A lump formed in my throat. She moved here for me, and I'd repaid her with excuses. Work, friends, Mike—everything seemed more important than a trip to see Mum. Now, with the world falling apart, I couldn't stop thinking about how much time I'd wasted.

God, I hope she's okay.

The fuel light flickered on just as I reached the edge of the village. My stomach twisted. I didn't have a backup plan if this failed.

At the crossroads the scene stopped me cold. A black 4x4 Audi was smashed in the centre of the road, its front end crumpled against a toppled green Land Rover. Blood streaked the pavement, leading to a lifeless zombie sprawled in the middle of the carnage. Its face was frozen in a grotesque grimace, its head caved in.

I slowed down, my eyes darting between the wreckage and the empty windows of the surrounding houses. No movement. No sound.

I whispered to myself, "I hope they got away..." but the silence offered no reassurance.

Turning right, I passed the co-op glancing into the store. Its shelves were stripped bare, the glass front smeared with bloody handprints. The houses here were spaced far apart, each one dark and foreboding, like empty shells of a forgotten life.

At the very end of the lane stood Mum's house, a small navy cottage with an overgrown garden. The sight of it brought a rush of emotions that threatened to overwhelm me.

I parked the car, switched off the engine, and sat in the deafening silence. My hand hovered over the door handle as I strained to listen. Nothing but the faint rustle of leaves in the evening breeze.