Flesh and Fire
1285 Words
The day was winding down, the sun bleeding out across the horizon. Shadows stretched long and jagged over the cracked asphalt, turning every alley into darkness. Elias and Ivy moved quietly, sticking to the narrow paths between gutted buildings and overturned trucks—places where the light barely reached.
Those alleys felt safer.
They were filled with Tier-0 zombies—the shamblers.
Mindless.
Weak.
Skin peeling off in wet sheets, jaws slack and dripping black bile. Eyes cloudy and empty. They shuffled in aimless circles, bumping into walls, into each other, into nothing.
They didn’t even twitch toward Ivy.
Not with Elias next to her.
He was Tier-3—but different.
Stronger.
Other.
The shamblers could feel it. Even without him letting loose his aura, they cowered.
Heads low.
Shoulders hunched.
Like dogs sniffing a wolf.
For some reason, Elias felt on top of the world.
Powerful.
If he’d been in his original body with rifle heavy in his hands, he’d be planning how to kill them.
They were the ones who ended him. Their nasty, jagged teeth tore into his flesh and ripped him apart like paper.
The memory flashed—hot, raw:
Claws digging into his gut. Teeth biting his throat. Wet muscle tearing from bone.
It almost drove him mad and made him want to kill them for no reason.
Maybe to smash their skulls just to hear the crunch.
But that would only feed his Corruption.
He forced the thought away—hard—and looked around for somewhere to rest.
Ivy, on the other hand, felt protected.
But useless.
She hadn’t swung her crowbar in hours.
The thick, crusted blood on the iron had dried into rusty flakes.
She glanced up at him—and then froze.
“You’re hurt,” Ivy said suddenly, reaching out.
Elias looked down, pretending to notice the shallow cut across his left side.
A clean slice—three inches long, just under the ribs.
Blood welled bright and glossy against his pale, metallic skin.
It didn’t sting.
Didn’t even itch.
His body was already repairing itself.
System Notification:
[Minor Wound Detected.]
[Auto-Regeneration in Progress.]
[Full Recovery in 00:07:45 minutes.]
But seeing the worry on Ivy’s face...
Fuck.
He couldn’t help teasing her.
He winced—dramatically—grabbing his side with a hiss.
“Shit... didn’t even feel that,” he growled, voice rough with fake pain.
Ivy looked furious.
But worried.
“You’re reckless!” she snapped. “Sit. Let me help.”
Elias smirked quietly but dropped onto a broken chunk of concrete—legs spread out, back resting against rusted rebar.
He watched her kneel between his thighs, fumbling with an old first-aid kit from her pack.
Her first-aid kit.
Her fingers were surprisingly gentle as she pressed a damp cloth on the wound.
She was the only human who’d ever bother taking care of a zombie.
Maybe it was because she was used to it.
Maybe.
Her touch was almost sweet and careful.
Too careful.
Elias’s blood stirred—for a different reason.
'Fuck... her hands are so soft.'
That’s all he could feel.
Her touch.
Not the pain.
Not that he could really feel pain as a zombie.
That’s why he hadn’t even noticed the bleeding.
She bit her lip in concentration—plump, pink, tempting. Her cheeks were flushed and her hair was sticking to her forehead in damp curls.
Her body was perfect—even from this angle, looking down at her.
And he couldn’t stop thinking about how she’d look underneath him.
Panting.
Squirming.
Begging for—
He cut it off fast.
Ivy cleaned the blood, muttering under her breath:
“Infections.”
“Zombies.”
“Idiot.”
“Infection?”
“Zombie?”
Elias just grinned, resting his elbows on his knees, watching every little move—every blink, every twitch of her fingers.
“You’re staring,” she said without looking up.
“Can you blame me?” he said low and teasing, a purr in his voice. "You’re cute when you’re bossy, Sister.”
She blushed hard.
“I told you not to call me that.”
“Right, right,” he chuckled filthily. “Whatever you say... Sister.”
She scowled but kept working—wrapping a rough bandage around his waist.
Her hands brushed his abdomen.
Lingering longer than needed.
When she finished, she sat back on her heels, blowing a stray hair from her eyes with a puff.
“There,” she said. “You’ll live. While we walk, let’s find you some clothes. I’m uncomfortable with a naked zombie around.”
Elias tilted his head, smiling lazily and slowly—predatory.
“Wanna bet if I’ll live?”
Before she could answer, he tugged the bandage loose with one finger.
The wound was already sealed. His skin was smooth with no mark. It was like the wound had never been there.
Ivy’s mouth dropped open.
“What the hell...?”
Elias laughed—reaching out to flick her forehead gently with a knuckle.
“Relax, Sister. I heal fast.”
“That’s not normal,” she hissed, grabbing his arm—fingers digging in. “Even for normal zombies, it’s not...”
“I’m not normal,” Elias said, voice dropping an octave. "You know that already.”
Their faces were close now.
Too close.
Ivy’s breath hitched.
She didn’t pull away.
For a moment, the world shrank to just them:
The heat. The tension crackles between human and monster. The scent of her—sweat, blood, fear, want.
Elias leaned in more—his lips brushing her ear.
“Unless you wanna check if everything else heals this fast too.”
Ivy’s face flamed crimson.
She shoved him back—roughly—standing so fast she almost tripped over her feet.
“i***t,” she muttered, grabbing her gear. “Pervert.”
Elias laughed louder—stretching his arms lazily above his head, muscles flexing under pale skin.
Fuck.
Teasing her was too easy.
System Notification:
[Corruption: +0.1%]
[Total Corruption: 2.8%]
[Lust Status: Active.]
They set off again.
The city stretched endlessly ahead—ruins on ruins, a graveyard of glass and steel.
And just like she said, he found clothes.
He didn't steal them, he just borrowed them.
From an abandoned boutique—mannequins toppled like dominoes, racks collapsed under dust and time.
He pulled on:
Black pants—tight, worn leather cracked at the knees.
Black turtleneck long-sleeve—stretched across his chest, hiding a long scar on his throat.
Black cloak—tattered, hooded, fluttering like raven wings.
Black. Black. Black.
They moved on—heading wherever the city pulled them.
As they walked, the quiet warmth between them lingered.
.
.
They travelled in silence for a while.
Until the broken skyline gave way to the ruins of an old shopping mall.
Boarded windows—plywood splintered, nails rusted. Twisted metal beams jut like broken ribs.
Dark shapes moving inside—slow, deliberate.
Elias’s eyes sharpened as his instincts screamed at him.
“Careful,” he murmured, pulling Ivy close against his chest without thinking.
She stiffened—small body pressed tight against his.
The heat of her back against his front. The scent of her hair filled his nose.
“There’s something inside,” he whispered against her ear, his hot breath stirring the fine hairs at her neck.
She hummed softly—tightening her grip on the crowbar until her knuckles turned white.
They didn’t know what was in there.
So they slowed down and stepped into the ruined mall.
Elias grinned—teeth gleaming in the dim light like the monster he was.
“Hope it’s a real fight.”
- Writer
