Story 1234: Dead Doesn’t Mean Gone

Daryl thought he'd buried her.

He remembered the weight of the soil, the sound of the last shovel of dirt landing on her chest, and the silence that followed. It wasn’t mercy. It was survival. Elise had been bitten. She begged him to end it, and when he couldn’t, she ended it for him—pressing the barrel of her pistol to her heart.

But now… she stood in front of him.

Soaking wet.

Eyes wide.

And whispering his name.

“Elise?” he choked out, stepping back, the flashlight in his grip trembling.

The underground metro station had long since gone cold. The tiles were cracked, cables hung like veins from the ceiling, and old advertisements fluttered in the stale wind. Daryl had come here looking for a safe place to rest. Instead, he found the impossible.

Or rather, she found him.

“Elise… you’re dead,” he said.

Her lips quivered. “I was.”