He Fed Me To Zombies Nineteen Times

A doomsday blizzard hit just before Christmas. The zombie virus exploded. Our fortress was a top-tier ski resort. Now, it was about to fall.

My husband, Ethan, was a former Navy SEAL. Our head of security. He swore his defense system was foolproof.

The blizzard knocked out the power.

But he’d sent all the backup generator fuel to the summit. Just to light up a Christmas tree for Chloe. He even had a few guards up there with them, throwing a party.

In my last life, I fought him. I herded everyone into the last bunker.

But Chloe whined. A crowded Christmas was boring, she said.

She stormed out of the safe room and ran right into the jaws of the horde.

Ethan carved a path through the horde to secure the walls. Then he sat in silence, cradling Chloe’s bones.

He pretended he wanted to start over with me. He let me get pregnant with his child.

The day I gave birth, he knocked me unconscious and dumped me into a nearby zombie nest.

He always rescued me just before I died. He’d inject me with a serum that kept me from turning.

Nineteen times, he threw me to the zombies.

I died in agony as they tore the flesh from my bones.

"If you hadn't sabotaged my defenses," he’d hissed, "if you hadn't crashed our party and led the horde right to us, Chloe would still be alive!"

I opened my eyes. I was back. Christmas Eve.

Before Christmas, the zombie apocalypse came. My husband threw me, his wife who had just given birth, to a horde of zombies because of his lover. I was eaten alive.

My eyes snapped open and shot to the clock on the wall. December 24th. 11:47 PM.

I was back. Christmas Eve.

The final blizzard was closing in. The horde would be here in thirteen minutes.

No time.

I shoved through the crowd, sprinted to the control room, and slammed the emergency broadcast button.

A piercing alarm shrieked through the entire building.

“Everyone, listen up.” My voice echoed from every speaker. “A blizzard is approaching. Winds will hit 120 miles per hour. Temperatures will drop to minus thirty. More importantly—”

I paused for a second, watching the panicked faces on the security monitor.

“A horde of zombies is using the storm for cover. They’re closing in on us. Everyone, get to the B3 bunker. Now. This is not a drill.”

An explosion of noise erupted from the main hall.

Screams. Sobs.

People began to stampede towards the stairwells.

My assistant, Marcus, went white. “Scarlett, are you insane? Ethan didn’t give the order—”

“Where is Ethan?”

“He’s… he’s at the summit. With Chloe. They're having a Christmas party.”

I let out a cold laugh.

Of course.

Without me to stop him this time, he got his Christmas party after all.

Angry shouts rose from the hall. “Where is the Captain of the Guard? We need Ethan!”

“Who put the doctor in charge?”

I keyed the mic again.

“You want Ethan?” My voice was as cold as a blade. “Your great captain is on the summit. Having a Christmas party with his little mistress. He took all the fuel for the backup generators and hauled it up the mountain, just to light a Christmas tree for her.”

A sudden silence.

Followed by even greater chaos.

“That’s impossible!”

“Ethan would never do that!”

“She’s lying!”

Just then, the first red light on the console began to blink.

Perimeter Defense Grid: LOW POWER.

Then a second light blinked red. A third.

The technician’s face went ghost-white. He stared at the monitor. “Oh my God… the perimeter radar is offline. The infrared sensors are dead too. We’re blind.”

I pushed him aside, trying to restart the backup power.

The fuel reserve gauge read zero.

It had all been sent to the summit.

“Let me contact Ethan.”

Martha’s voice cut through the noise. She sat in her wheelchair, her face a mask of cold fury.

She activated her private comms. An encrypted unit from her days as a federal judge.

“Ethan, answer me now.”

Static hissed for a dozen seconds.

Then Ethan’s voice, tight with anger. "Mom? If Scarlett put you up to this, you can tell my 'soon-to-be-ex-wife' she's crossed a line."

In the background, I could hear Chloe's soft, soothing voice.

Martha took a deep breath. "Son, this is not a joke. The outer defenses are failing. Radar showed a massive group of hostiles approaching. You need to cut power to that Christmas tree and divert it back to the B3 defense systems, now!"

"Defense systems?" Ethan scoffed, his voice dripping with arrogance. "Mom, I checked the data myself ten minutes ago. The defense wall is secure. No signs of intrusion. All those red alerts are false alarms Scarlett triggered manually from the control room!"

I snatched the mic. "I did not! It's zombies! The sensors were physically destroyed!"

"That's enough, Scarlett!" Ethan's voice rose. "You'd sabotage the sensors just to start a panic and ruin my night with Chloe? That's a court-martial offense, Scarlett."

"Ethan, there's something in the snow out there…"

"It's your paranoia!" he snapped. "To stop you from spreading more chaos and inciting a riot out of jealousy, I've remotely locked all exit gates on the B3 level. You're safer staying put, as long as you keep your hands off the control panel."

"You locked the gates? Ethan, you'll kill everyone!"

"I'm protecting everyone from you, you lunatic!" His tone was cold, certain. "When the blizzard stops tomorrow, I'll come down with the military police. Scarlett, get ready for a court-martial."

Chloe's voice, sweet as poison, cooed through the speaker. "Aunt Martha, don't let Scarlett fool you. She's just trying to trick Ethan into coming down here so she can ruin our Christmas. Don't worry, Ethan's the best. We're perfectly safe."

"Ethan! I'm your mother, you will listen to me—"

"And *because* you're my mother, I can't let that psycho use you."

The line went dead.

He really believed I was the girl who cried wolf.

Locking the gates was his idea of "keeping the peace."

Just then, the last light on the monitor flickered out.

Darkness fell.

Marcus looked at me, his eyes filled with despair. "He locked us in… with those things."