Love is Dead

The Stranger in the Woods

Another couple weeks go by and another late are
The fire crackled and popped, sending small sparks into the night air, as Carmen and Logan sat quietly beside the small campfire behind the cabin. The moon hung low above them, casting long shadows through the forest. Despite the chill in the air, the warmth from the fire provided a welcome comfort. But still, there was a subtle sense of unease, like something was about to shift—an invisible weight pressing down on the world around them.

Logan sat with his usual stillness, his mismatched eyes scanning the trees, alert and watchful. His posture was always calm, deliberate, a sharp contrast to the rest of the chaotic world. Carmen tried to settle into the moment, her own muscles tense from the long day, but she couldn't help feeling a knot of anxiety twisting in her stomach. They'd come so far, and yet... something about tonight felt different.

The crackling fire and the gentle whispers of the wind through the trees were the only sounds until suddenly, a sharp noise shattered the quiet—something snapping in the underbrush, a rustling of leaves, the unmistakable crunch of boots on dry ground.

Carmen stiffened, instinctively reaching for the pole at her side as she scanned the treeline. Logan, too, was alert in an instant, his body coiled like a spring, his eyes narrowing.

Then, from the shadowy woods emerged a figure—a man, tall and broad-shouldered, carrying a bundle of firewood in his arms. He had messy blonde hair, and he wore a faded green flannel shirt and worn blue jeans. As his eyes locked onto Carmen and Logan, he froze, his expression a mixture of surprise and confusion.

Logan didn't move. Carmen stayed still, but her hand subtly shifted on her pole, her eyes narrowing. She'd learned not to trust people easily, but there was something about the man's posture that was... different. It wasn't the aggressive stance of a predator or a threat. It was simply uncertainty.

The man blinked, staring at them as if he'd stumbled upon something completely unexpected. His mouth opened, but nothing came out. Then, slowly, his gaze flicked to Logan, and his eyes widened in recognition—or horror.

"That... thing," he muttered, his voice shaking. "What the hell is that?"

Carmen's heart sank. She had braced herself for this, she knew other people they met would do this. The fear. The panic. She took a deep breath, stepping forward, trying to steady herself, and raised her hands in a peaceful gesture.

"Wait, please," she said, her voice firm yet gentle. "He's not what you think. He's not dangerous."

The man's eyes darted between Carmen and Logan, but his hand was already hovering near his belt, where a knife was strapped, his body tense. "That thing—*that's* a zombie!"

Carmen stepped forward more, her heart pounding. "No, he's not. He's not like the others."

The man blinked, looking between them in disbelief. "How is that possible? He looks... *dead*."

Carmen felt frustration bubbling up inside her. She couldn't let the fear and ignorance dictate everything. She had to make him see. "I know what he looks like. But listen—he's different. He's reformed. He's not like the mindless zombies you're used to. "He's... *in control."
She glared at Logan who was definitely not as friendly as he could be. "C'mon Logan! Help me out here!"

The man didn't seem convinced. He took another step back, tightening his grip on the knife. "In control? That is a zombie. No way."

Carmen took a breath, thinking for a moment. There was only one way to show the man that Logan wasn't a threat—one simple gesture. Without taking her eyes off the man, she reached out and gently took Logan's hand in hers.