Horrific Shorts: Zombie Edition-Chapter 856 Story The Predator’s Hunt
856: Story 856: The Predator’s Hunt
856: Story 856: The Predator’s Hunt
The survivors ran.
The Flesh Reaper did not chase them.
It stalked.
A monstrous silhouette in the mist, its shifting flesh rippling as if it were still deciding what form to take.
The streets were its hunting ground.
The ruined city—a cage where it was both captor and executioner.
Lucas perched on a rusted fire escape, rifle aimed.
His breathing slowed.
His scope locked onto the creature’s head.
He fired.
The bullet struck true—an explosion of gore and shattered skull.
For a second, the Flesh Reaper froze.
Then, it did the impossible.
Its flesh swarmed the wound.
The missing pieces of its head reformed.
And it laughed.
A guttural, sickening sound.
Lucas barely had time to move before the creature lunged.
It leaped onto the fire escape—metal shrieking under its weight.
Lucas rolled back just as a clawed hand slashed through the air.
Sparks flew as the steel was torn apart like paper.
“GO!” Evelyn shouted from below.
Lucas jumped.
He hit the ground hard, rolling onto his side just as the Flesh Reaper landed in front of him.
No hesitation.
It swung.
Leon tackled Lucas out of the way just as a claw the size of a machete buried itself into the concrete.
The impact shattered the pavement.
“We can’t kill it!” Mia yelled, her voice breaking.
The Flesh Reaper turned to her.
Then, it spoke.
“You… can… run.”
The words were slurred, but clear.
“Meat… always… runs.”
Mia’s blood went cold.
“Shut up,” Reaper growled, raising his shotgun.
He fired point-blank into its chest.
The creature barely flinched.
It grinned.
Then, it struck.
A blur of motion.
Reaper flew back—hitting the side of a ruined car so hard it caved inward.
His breath came in ragged gasps, blood trickling down his forehead.
Evelyn grabbed a grenade from Dominic’s belt.
“Get down!”
She ripped the pin and hurled it at the creature.
BOOM!
The explosion tore the street apart.
Smoke and debris filled the air, shrouding the battlefield.
Silence.
Then—a low, gurgling growl.
The dust cleared.
The Flesh Reaper still stood.
Its entire left side was gone—obliterated by the grenade.
And yet, its flesh was moving.
It wasn’t just regenerating.
It was mutating.
New tendrils crawled from its wounds, reshaping its body.
Bone jutted from its shoulders, twisting into crude armor.
Its claws grew longer, sharper.
Evelyn’s stomach twisted.
It was adapting.
The Flesh Reaper turned to her.
And smiled.
“Run.”
