Good Night: An Apocalypse Story

The road stretched on, empty and quiet as Stephanie neared the border crossing. The sun was high now, casting harsh shadows over the remnants of what was once a bustling checkpoint between two countries. The dilapidated border building came into view, its faded signs and broken windows a testament to the years of neglect. Her father had told her stories about borders, places where people once waited in lines, showing papers and passports. Now, it was just another relic of a world long gone.

She stopped her bike just outside the building, killing the engine to listen. Silence. Too silent.

Stephanie dismounted, eyes scanning the area for any sign of movement. Nothing. It seemed abandoned, like so many other places she had passed on the journey. Still, it was always worth checking for supplies. Old buildings like this sometimes held hidden treasures—leftover fuel, canned food, maybe even a weapon or two. If she was lucky.

She slipped inside, moving cautiously through the dusty hallways. Her boots scuffed against the cracked linoleum, the air thick with the stale smell of mildew and decay. The border building had clearly been looted long ago, but some things were too well-hidden to be found at first glance.

As she rummaged through a half-open locker, her fingers brushed against something cold and metallic—a switch.

Without thinking, she flipped it.

The moment the lever clicked into place, a loud, mechanical hum began to build from deep within the walls. Stephanie’s eyes widened as she realized what she had done.

An alarm.

For a second, she froze, staring in disbelief as the noise grew louder, filling the air with a piercing wail that shattered the quiet. Fifteen years into the apocalypse, and an alarm still works? How the hell was that even possible? She had no time to question it.

Her heart jumped into her throat. Shit.

Stephanie bolted from the building, sprinting toward her bike as the sound of the alarm blared through the border crossing. It echoed off the trees and through the empty streets, a sound that carried far too well. Too far.

She swung her leg over the bike, fumbling with the ignition as panic surged through her veins. Then, in the distance, she heard it—a sound that chilled her blood.

The unmistakable screeches of Freaks.

She glanced over her shoulder and her breath caught in her chest. Emerging from the dark forest beyond the border was a horde—hundreds of Freaks, their pale, twisted bodies crawling out of the shadows. Their movements were erratic, desperate, like a swarm of starving animals smelling blood.

The forest they came from was a place of nightmares, its trees so dense that no light could penetrate it, a haven for creatures that hated the sun. But now, the alarm had woken them, and they surged forward like a tidal wave, all hunger and fury.

Stephanie’s heart pounded in her chest. No time.

She kicked the bike into gear, the engine roaring to life just as the first of the Freaks broke free from the treeline. Revving the throttle, she shot forward, the tires skidding on the loose gravel as she sped away from the border. Her body leaned into the bike, urging it to go faster, faster than it ever had before. The road blurred beneath her as she raced ahead, but she could still hear them behind her—the shrieks, the pounding of feet, the growing swarm that chased her relentlessly.

She risked a glance over her shoulder, and her stomach tightened. The horde was massive. Hundreds of them, moving as one, their pale skin glistening in the sunlight as they sprinted after her. Some were faster than others, their limbs carrying them with terrifying speed. They were gaining on her, their screeches filling the air, clawing at her mind.

But then—the sun. She could see it, high in the sky, burning down on them.

As she pushed the bike harder, she began to notice a change in the horde’s behavior. The Freaks at the front, those closest to her, were starting to slow down, their skin blistering a bit under the heat. They hated the sunlight, but their hunger had driven them out of the darkness. Now, it was taking its toll.

Kilometer after kilometer, Stephanie raced down the road, feeling the sweat on her back, her hands tight on the handlebars. The Freaks kept coming, relentless, but soon their numbers began to thin. The farther they ran, the slower they became. And then, as if some unseen force called them back, the entire horde came to a sudden halt.

She glanced back again—this time, relief flooding her chest. The Freaks had stopped. They stood at the edge of the road, their pale forms trembling in the sunlight, watching as their prey escaped.

They didn’t follow.

Stephanie didn’t slow down. Not until the border and the horde were far behind her. Her heart still pounded in her chest, the adrenaline coursing through her veins. That was close.

Only when the landscape shifted—rolling hills and distant mountain ranges ahead—did she ease off the throttle, her breathing still heavy. The engine hummed beneath her, steady and strong.

---

Stephanie pulled into the outskirts of a small, forgotten city. The mechanic’s shop caught her eye immediately—a squat building with rusted tools and debris scattered around the entrance. Her bike had taken a beating lately, and she could use a few parts to make sure it would hold together for the long ride ahead. Kicking down the bike’s stand, she swung off and cautiously made her way inside.

The smell of oil and metal greeted her, along with dust that hadn’t been disturbed in years. She moved quietly through the aisles, her eyes scanning for anything she could salvage—spark plugs, chains, anything that might be useful for future repairs. Nothing goes to waste, her father had always said.

As she inspected a row of old engine parts, something moved above her—a quick blur, too fast for her to react. Before she knew it, a weight crashed onto her from the rafters, tiny teeth sinking into her arm with a sharp, burning pain.

"Fuck!" she shouted, stumbling back as she grabbed the creature by the neck. It was a small Freak, barely the size of a child, its eyes wild with hunger, mouth gnashing as it clung to her arm. The surprise mixed with the sharp sting of pain sent a wave of anger through her.

She slammed it against the wall with all the force she could muster. Crack—its skull collided with the concrete, the back of its head caving in. Blood sprayed across the wall as the tiny creature went limp, falling to the floor with a sickening thud.

Breathing heavily, Stephanie stepped back, holding her injured arm close. She stared at the dead Freak, anger still simmering beneath the surface, her heart racing. She hadn’t expected an attack, let alone from something so small. But small or not, it had drawn blood.

The bite throbbed, a deep, pulsing pain shooting up her arm. Gritting her teeth, she rummaged through her pack, pulling out a small canteen of water and a bottle of alcohol. She poured the alcohol over the wound, wincing as it burned, but the sting was familiar—she’d dealt with worse injuries before. She quickly wrapped the bite with a bandage, tightening it with practiced hands. It didn’t look too deep, but she’d have to keep an eye on it.

Back outside, the sun was beginning to dip lower in the sky. She got back on her bike, starting it up again, the sound drawing out scattered Freaks from their hiding places. She saw them moving now—alone, some wandering out of ruined houses, others standing in open courtyards, their heads jerking toward the noise. They weren’t in a full pack yet, which was lucky for her, but the longer she stayed, the more attention she would attract.

Pushing the bike hard, she made her way through the small city, weaving past ruined cars and debris-strewn streets. When she reached the other side of town, she spotted a small house on the outskirts. It didn’t look like a nest, and the windows were intact—likely uninhabited.

Perfect.

Stephanie parked her bike in a shadowed corner and slipped inside the house, checking for any signs of danger. It was quiet. Safe enough for the night.

She barred the door and took stock of her surroundings—a dusty bed in the corner, a few tattered blankets, and a broken lamp. She dragged a chair in front of the window, setting up a small lookout. After a quick, methodical sweep, she settled down on the bed, exhausted. Her muscles ached, and the pain from the bite still throbbed in her arm. Her mind drifted, overwhelmed by the events of the day.

But in her fatigue, she forgot to activate her UV lamp.

Sleep came quickly, but it wasn’t peaceful. Her dreams twisted and churned—visions of a sterile room, bright lights overhead, and the cold touch of gloved hands. She was small, vulnerable, lying on a table. Above her, scientists loomed, their faces hidden behind masks, their voices muffled. They were doing something to her, injecting something into her veins, whispering in words she couldn’t understand. She tried to cry out, to move, but her body wouldn’t obey. She felt trapped, helpless, as they continued their experiments.

She woke with a start, gasping for air. Her heart pounded in her chest as she sat up, drenched in sweat. For a moment, she couldn’t remember where she was—then the familiar sight of the small house brought her back to reality. She exhaled sharply, relieved to be alive.

The lamp. She had forgotten to turn it on. How had she survived the night? The room was still, the dawn light filtering through the broken blinds. No Freaks had found her.

Pushing the disturbing dreams aside, she checked her bandaged arm. The wound had healed—too quickly. As she unwrapped the bandage, she stared in disbelief. Nearly a third of the wound had closed overnight, the skin knitting together as if days had passed, not hours. The pain had faded too, leaving her arm almost good as new.

How the hell...?

Stephanie shook her head, standing up. She felt stronger, more alive than she had before, the fatigue of yesterday’s events melting away. Whatever was happening to her, it wasn’t normal. But there was no time to dwell on it.

Her stomach growled—a deep, ravenous hunger gnawing at her insides. She hadn’t eaten much in days, but this hunger felt different. More primal. She needed to hunt. She needed something substantial.

Packing her gear, she got back on her bike, the engine roaring as she left the city behind. Ahead lay the forest, thick and full of game. She would hunt something big today. She could feel it—her body craved it.

Without another thought, she sped toward the treeline, the hunger driving her forward.

---

Stephanie crouched low in the underbrush, her breath steady as her eyes locked onto the deer a few yards ahead. The animal was alone, separated from its herd, grazing quietly in the shadow of the forest. Perfect prey.

She nocked an arrow, the familiar feel of the bowstring taut against her fingers, but this time something felt different. Her senses were sharper, her grip firmer. She could hear every rustle of the leaves, the soft crunch of the deer's hooves against the undergrowth. The clarity of the moment was almost unnerving—like the world had slowed just for her.

In one fluid motion, she drew the string back, her focus narrowing in on the deer's eye. She exhaled, releasing the arrow.

It flew with deadly precision, cutting through the air before embedding itself directly into the deer's eye. The animal dropped instantly, its body crumpling to the ground without a sound.

Stephanie blinked, surprised. One shot. She had always been a good shot, but this…this was something else. She hadn’t even felt the usual tension in her muscles, the slight wavering of aim that came with drawing a bow. The shot had been perfect—too perfect.

She stood up slowly, her heart still steady despite the excitement of the kill. As she approached the fallen deer, the reality of what she had just done hit her fully. Her strength, her control, even her eyesight—everything had improved. She felt more in tune with her body, as though every movement was guided by instinct, faster, more precise than before.

The changes were undeniable.

Her thoughts drifted to the bite wound on her arm. She had noticed it healing far quicker than it should have, and now this. Something inside her was shifting, evolving.

But there was no time to dwell on it. Stephanie knelt beside the deer, pulling the arrow free from its skull. She wiped the blood from the shaft, tucking it back into her quiver. Taking out her knife, she made quick work of the carcass, cutting the animal cleanly and efficiently. Her hands moved with ease, slicing through muscle and sinew as she prepared the deer for transport.

Strapping the deer to her bike, she set off again, the road ahead leading her deeper into the wilderness. After some time, she came upon a small cave, its mouth dark and inviting—a temporary refuge. She parked the bike just inside, where the rocky walls would keep her hidden.

With a flick of her wrist, she activated the UV lamp, filling the cave with its soft, protective glow. She laid the deer down, then gathered wood for a fire from the surrounding area. The warmth of the flames soon filled the cave as she began skinning the deer, her knife moving swiftly. The hide would be useful—she rolled it up carefully, stowing it on her bike for later use.

Next came the meat. She cut thick slabs, laying them over the fire, the smell of roasting flesh filling the air. The rich scent made her stomach rumble. She was hungrier than she had ever been, the craving for food gnawing at her insides in a way that felt almost primal.

As the night wore on, she ate—more than she thought possible. Piece after piece, the meat disappeared into her hands, the hunger driving her to consume until there was nothing left but bones. She had never eaten so much in one sitting, and yet she felt no discomfort. Instead, she felt sated, her body energized, her mind sharper.

When sleep finally overtook her, it was deep and dreamless.