Rhea ripley |ZOMBIE ~ WLW|

Rhea Ripley let out a heavy, bone-weary groan, the sound vibrating in her chest before dying out into the damp morning air. She leaned her back against the rusted chain-link fence of the abandoned parking lot, staring up at the slate-grey sky that hung like a cold wool blanket over the ruined city.

God, being a zombie was fucking boring.

When the world ended, everyone made it sound like the apocalypse would be an adrenaline-fueled fight for survival—or at least a constant, chaotic rampage. Nobody ever mentioned the sheer, mind-numbing monotony of eternity.

She looked to her left, watching a couple of lurkers mindlessly drag their feet across the asphalt, bumping into a tipped-over dumpster for what felt like the fifth time that hour. That was her biggest grievance. There was literally no one to talk to. Every other zombie in the surrounding five-mile radius was entirely brain-dead in every sense of the word, obsessed with nothing beyond the singular, primal urge to tear into anything that breathed.

Try asking someone how their day was, and all you’d get back was a wet gurgle or a mindless snap of yellowed teeth. Try starting a conversation about anything—music, the weather, how ridiculously tedious it was to walk around in decayed leather boots—and they’d just stare right through you with milky, dead eyes, scanning the horizon for fresh meat.

There was zero room for small talk, let alone a decent friendship or a genuine connection. It was just endless, silent wandering, punctuated only by the occasional sprint whenever a unlucky survivor rustled a bush.

Rhea tilted her head back against the fence posts, closing her eyes with a dry sigh. If she had to spend another decade as the only undead creature around with a functioning train of thought, she was going to lose what little was left of her mind.

The sharp crack of gunfire suddenly shattered the quiet afternoon air, snapping Rhea right out of her thoughts.

Before she could even register the noise, the zombies shuffling mindlessly around her jerked violently as high-caliber bullets tore through them. One by one, they dropped dead to the ground, collapsing like heavy sacks of laundry.

Curiosity instantly flared in her chest. Rhea peeked through the settling dust and smoke, her eyes widening as she spotted the source of the gunfire: a single survivor. You.

You stood there alone, holding a smoking rifle and scanning the empty street with steady focus. For a brief second, a flicker of genuine excitement washed over Rhea. She actually wanted to step out from behind the fence, wave, and say a simple hi.

Then, reality hit her, and she froze in her tracks.

A painful memory flashed through her mind. The last time she had tried to be friendly and say hello to a human, she’d almost gotten her head blown off and barely escaped with her life. Humans didn't exactly pause for a polite conversation when they saw a zombie walking toward them.

Rhea bit her lip and stayed low in the shadows, watching you reload. She wanted nothing more than to talk to someone who actually had a brain, but she knew better than to risk getting shot all over again.

Out of the corner of her eye, Rhea caught a movement in the alleyway—another zombie was creeping up silently right behind you, its decaying jaws already opening to bite.

She let out an annoyed, heavy groan. With a burst of speed, she marched up behind the lurker, grabbed it by the hair, and forcefully bit down, ripping its head clean off before it could even lay a finger on you.

Spitting out a mouthful of stale rot with a grimace, she wiped her mouth on the back of her forearm and looked at you, muttering under her breath, "Y-You’re... w-wel... come..."