Furzombie - a gay furry zombie apocalypse

Shelter - Joshua

I drove slowly down the narrow, winding lanes, following the back route we'd carefully planned. The road was rough, the asphalt cracked and patched with weeds, but the isolation was worth it. I glanced over at Sam, who was hunched over the map I'd sketched, ticking off landmarks as we passed. So far, so good.

Occasionally, we'd see a zombie in the distance, shambling aimlessly along the road or lingering near an abandoned car. Some cars were still locked tight, their windows streaked with grime, while others had their doors wide open, luggage spilling onto the asphalt. It was clear people had scavenged these vehicles—or tried to. Sometimes we saw bloody handprints smeared on the windows or the faint shadow of a figure slumped against a seat.

The occasional groans of the undead followed us as we passed, their heads snapping toward the pickup at the sound of the engine. A few started to stagger in our direction, their movements jerky and uncoordinated. I kept an eye on them in the rear-view mirror until they disappeared from view, too slow to keep up with us.

Sam sat in the passenger seat, his crossbow resting across his lap, one paw gripping its handle tightly. His ears twitched every so often, and his eyes constantly scanned the surroundings, wary of any surprises. "Relax," I said softly, glancing over at him.

"Can't," he replied without looking up. "This feels too easy."

It wasn't much of a comfort, but I knew what he meant. In a world like this, things going smoothly usually meant something was about to go wrong.

After another ten minutes, the track to the house finally came into view—a narrow, overgrown path that almost looked like part of the landscape. Grass grew tall between the ruts left by old tires, and the tree line on either side made it easy to miss unless you were looking for it. I turned the wheel carefully, guiding the truck onto the track, which bumped and jostled us as it snaked through the woods.

When the trees gave way to open fields, I let out a small breath I didn't realize I'd been holding. Nestled in the corner of the clearing was the house. From a distance, it looked as promising as it had on the map.

The building was old, its stone brick walls weathered but solid, with a long rectangular shape that hinted at its past life as a barn. Modern additions stood out—wooden cladding on its sides, sleek windows that reflected the pale afternoon light, and a roof covered in solar panels. It was the kind of place you'd dream of in a world like this: secluded, functional, and self-sufficient.

I pulled the truck to a stop just outside the yard, killing the engine. The silence that followed was almost deafening.

"What if someone's in there?" I asked, keeping my voice low.

Sam turned to me, his ears flattening slightly. "We've talked about this. We'll check it out. If someone's there, we'll deal with it."

I hesitated, my fingers lingering on the keys. "But what if—"

"Look," he interrupted, gesturing toward the house. "No smoke from the chimney. And those massive glass windows? If anyone was living here, they'd have boarded them up by now."

I nodded reluctantly. "Maybe you're right."

He gave me a small smile. "I'm always right."

I rolled my eyes but couldn't help a faint chuckle. Steeling myself, I opened the door, stepping out into the crisp air. Sam followed, moving silently as he slung his crossbow over his shoulder. Together, we crept toward the house, sticking low and close to the walls.

The main door loomed ahead of us, its weathered wood scratched and slightly warped but still intact. Sam took one side while I took the other, our movements synchronized without a word. He knocked loudly on the door, the sound echoing in the stillness.