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The Age of Darkness
An unreleased short story from the book:
The Infection Spreads How the World Became Undead
In the shadow of the ancient mountains, beyond the reach of civilization, a long-forgotten tomb lay hidden beneath the sands. It was an ancient burial site, believed to be the final resting place of a forgotten civilization, a culture that had once thrived and then vanished into obscurity. The tombs were old, older than anything historians had ever written about, older than any known records. But with the passage of time, the whispers of this ancient place had faded into myth, until it was nothing more than a legend.
But then, everything changed.
A team of archaeologists, led by the ambitious Dr. Edward Sinclair, had discovered the entrance to the tomb, buried deep beneath the earth. The site was untouched, hidden from the prying eyes of looters and thieves. Dr. Sinclair, who had spent his entire career searching for lost civilizations, believed he had finally found something that would cement his legacy. This was the discovery of a lifetime. Little did he know, he was about to unleash an ancient terror far beyond his understanding.
Inside the tomb, the air was thick with dust and age. Their lanterns flickered as they moved deeper into the labyrinth of stone corridors, their footsteps echoing off the walls like distant whispers. They uncovered what appeared to be burial chambers, each one filled with ancient artifacts—ceremonial weapons, gold coins, pottery, and strange symbols etched into the walls. But as they went further into the tomb, they found something else. A dark, foreboding presence that seemed to seep from the walls.
In the heart of the tomb, they uncovered a sarcophagus, unlike any they had seen before. It was larger than the others, made of dark, smooth stone, covered in strange markings that pulsed faintly, as if alive. Dr. Sinclair’s hands trembled as he reached for the artifact, the air growing inexplicably colder. His team warned him against disturbing it, but his curiosity pushed him forward. With a sickening crack, the lid of the sarcophagus was lifted.
What they found inside was not a body—but something far worse.
Inside the sarcophagus lay a dark, viscous liquid, swirling with an otherworldly glow. It seemed to move on its own, pulsating as if breathing. Dr. Sinclair reached out with a gloved hand, fascinated by the eerie glow. His fingers barely brushed the surface when the ground beneath them trembled, and the air thickened with a chilling pressure. The liquid suddenly surged up, enveloping his arm in an instant. His scream was short-lived, drowned by the sound of grinding stone.
And then, the world changed.
The tomb seemed to come alive, as though the very walls were breathing with an ancient, malignant force. Dr. Sinclair’s body convulsed as the liquid crawled up his arm, covering his skin, and burrowing into his flesh. His eyes bulged with terror as his body began to distort. His mouth opened in a silent scream, but his voice was lost to something deeper—something that had been awakened. The liquid began to rot him from the inside out, dissolving his flesh and altering his very DNA, turning him into something unrecognizable.
The team watched in horror as Dr. Sinclair’s body twisted into a grotesque mockery of life. His skin turned black and shriveled, his eyes became hollow pits, and his jaw stretched unnaturally, revealing jagged, needle-like teeth. The last shred of humanity was gone. In its place was a creature—a thing driven by a singular, unholy hunger.
The infected Dr. Sinclair, now a shadow of the man he had been, lunged at his colleagues with savage force, tearing into them with the ferocity of a wild animal. His once-human body moved with unnatural speed, his hands grasping, clawing, and rending the living apart. The other archaeologists tried to flee, but there was no escape. The tomb had become a nightmare, and its curse had been unleashed.
But it didn’t stop there. The virus—the plague—spread like wildfire, more infectious than any disease ever known. The ancient liquid, released from the tomb, was not just a curse; it was a contagion, an ancient plague designed to consume the living and bring forth the dead. It was not simply a virus—it was a weapon, a means of reviving the dead and turning them into mindless, flesh-hungry creatures. The curse spread quickly across the town as the infected, once human, sought to spread the plague to others. The town fell into chaos as people turned on each other, desperate to survive, while the infected moved through the streets like shadows, hunting for fresh victims.
It wasn’t long before the infection spread beyond the town, carried by the infected and the remnants of Dr. Sinclair’s team. The plague grew, crossing borders, infecting cities, and turning the entire world into a sprawling hellscape of decay and death. Governments fell. Armies crumbled. The world that had once been so full of life, of technology and civilization, became a dark wasteland, consumed by the plague’s insatiable hunger.
The infected—no longer human—roamed the earth, their bodies decomposing yet still alive, driven by an insidious need to feed. They tore apart anyone they could find, infecting them with the ancient virus that had been unleashed from the tomb. As the years passed, the world fell into an irreversible darkness. The air grew thick with the scent of decay, the streets filled with the hollow-eyed, rotting creatures that had once been people. Humanity was no more.
In the ruins of the old city, a small group of survivors had managed to hide away, holding onto their last scraps of humanity. But they knew it was only a matter of time before the infection found them, too. They were living in borrowed time, desperate and broken, with no hope of salvation.
Every night, they could hear the distant groans of the infected, their voices growing louder as they closed in. The survivors had no weapons left. No food. No shelter. The world outside had turned into a wasteland, and every last breath they took was one closer to death.
The survivors had become the hunted. And as the creatures closed in on them, the true horror of what had happened became clear: the plague wasn’t just a disease. It was the end. The Age of Darkness had begun, and there would be no dawn.
The spirits of the ancient tomb had claimed the world, and now, the living would join the dead in an endless, relentless nightmare.
There was no escape.
The darkness had already won.
If you enjoyed this short story you will probably like our latest release available now:
The Infection Spreads How the World Became Undead
$3.99
The Infection Spreads: How the World Became Undead is a chilling collection of dark, morbid, and mind-bending short stories that explore the terrifying origins of the zombie apocalypse. Each story reveals a new, unexpected cause of the outbreak, blending science fiction, horror, and dystopian terror in one unforgettable anthology.
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