Eclipse of the Dead

It was a typical morning when I first noticed the news reports. The kind of day where you have your coffee, sit down at your desk, and brace yourself for a full day of research. Nothing extraordinary. The university was buzzing, my students were chattering in the hallways, and I was buried in my work—like any other day. But when the first report came in about a strange fever spreading across the world, I didn’t think much of it. Viruses emerge all the time, don’t they? The usual panic and precaution followed. Was it something serious? Maybe. But we were all too busy with our own lives to think it was anything world-altering.

The virus started in a remote region, a small village somewhere in Southeast Asia. At first, the cases were isolated—doctors reported that patients were experiencing extreme fevers, nausea, headaches, and muscle convulsions. “Probably just another strain of flu,” we all said. I remember the news reports running through my head as I read the medical journals on my desk, trying to focus. That was until the next report came in.

“This is a major public health emergency,” I heard on the television in the background. “The outbreak is now spreading beyond borders, with confirmed cases in multiple countries.”

Something in me jolted when I heard the news anchor’s voice crack. This wasn’t just a fever anymore. The pandemic wasn’t something we could easily shrug off.

The following days were a blur. Every news outlet was talking about it, and it seemed like more and more people were being affected. I couldn’t focus on anything else. I had to know more. I couldn’t sit back and watch without understanding what was happening. As a virologist, it was my job to understand viruses, to combat them, to stop them. But this virus—it was unlike anything I’d seen before.

“Julian, you’re going to want to see this.”

I turned around to see Dr. Rebecca Tan, one of my colleagues, standing in the doorway of my office. Her face was pale, a look of dread on her features.

“Not now, Becca. I’m deep into this,” I replied, gesturing toward the papers on my desk. “This virus is spreading rapidly. We need to get to the bottom of it.”

Rebecca stepped into my office and turned on the small television in the corner. “You should see this,” she said, voice shaking.

The screen flickered as the anchor’s face appeared again, now clearly distressed.

“The number of cases has reached catastrophic levels,” the reporter said. “But there’s something else we’re seeing. Some patients who survive the fever are…changing. They’re violent, aggressive, and exhibit behavior far beyond what we’ve seen before. There’s no word yet on how many have been affected, but we are receiving reports of bizarre incidents across the globe.”

My heart sank. This wasn’t just a virus anymore—it was something else. Something far more sinister. Something that could wipe humanity off the map.

“The ones who survive… are becoming… something else,” I murmured under my breath, barely able to believe it. “Zombies,” I whispered. The word hung in the air.

Rebecca shuddered. “I can’t believe it. It’s happening so fast. What do we do?”

“We study it,” I said firmly, more to myself than to her. “I need to get to the bottom of this. We need samples, data, whatever we can get our hands on.”

But it wasn’t that simple. Over the next few weeks, the world began to unravel. The virus didn’t just spread—it mutated. Each day, it seemed like it was evolving in ways no one had predicted. And the survivors—those who had managed to survive the fever—weren’t the same. They looked like shells of their former selves, with a hunger in their eyes that wasn’t human. They had become creatures driven by something primal. Something terrifying.

Every corner of the world was affected—no country was spared. Cities fell into chaos as the infected attacked anything they could find. Governments scrambled to contain the spread, and martial law was declared in several places. The global economy came to a screeching halt. I remember reading about entire cities being locked down, their inhabitants either fleeing or being taken over by the infected. The fear was palpable, and I could almost feel it in the air around me. People were desperate.

I tried to stay calm. I tried to focus. But the truth was, I was scared. I wasn’t immune to the panic. How could I be? The virus was out of control, and I couldn’t find a way to stop it.

But then something happened that I couldn’t explain. I had become the center of attention. As the virus continued to spread, there was a growing realization that I had been unaffected. My colleagues, family, even the media—they all started to notice. It was unsettling, to say the least.

One morning, while I was reviewing my data in the lab, my phone rang. It was an unknown number.

“Dr. Vance?” The voice on the other end was gruff, professional. “This is General Ethan Cole of the military. We need your expertise. The situation is escalating, and we need answers. The country is on the brink of collapse, and we need you to help us.”

The name struck me like a bolt of lightning. General Ethan Cole. A rising star in the military, known for his tactical brilliance and unflinching determination. I had seen his face in the media—strong, stoic, a man of few words. A man who led with force and charisma.

“I don’t know what I can do, General,” I said, trying to mask my shock. “I’m a virologist. I don’t have a cure. I’ve been researching this, but nothing’s working.”

“We need your immunity, Dr. Vance. It’s the only thing we have left. We’re assembling a team, and we need you on it. The country’s safety depends on you.”

I felt a wave of uncertainty wash over me. Could I really be the key to stopping this? Was I even capable of helping?

“Fine,” I said after a pause. “I’ll meet you. Where?”

“Tomorrow. I’ll send you the details. We don’t have much time.”

---

The next day, I found myself on a military plane, heading to a secured base outside of the city. I couldn’t help but feel out of place. A university researcher surrounded by soldiers, all of them staring at me with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. It was strange, being thrust into this environment. I wasn’t one for battle tactics or combat. But I wasn’t there to fight—I was there to help find a solution, if such a thing even existed.

When I arrived at the base, I was escorted straight to a command center, where a group of high-ranking officers and military personnel waited for me. And there, standing at the front of the room, was General Ethan Cole.

His piercing blue eyes met mine as I entered. He gave me a small nod of acknowledgment, but his face remained unreadable.

“Dr. Vance,” he said, his voice calm and authoritative, “thank you for coming. We’ve got a situation that’s gone beyond anything we could have imagined.”

I nodded, swallowing my nerves. “What’s the plan?”

“We need you to examine the virus—find out why you’re immune. We’ve seen reports of people like you, people who have survived without becoming infected. If we can understand why you’re immune, we might be able to develop a cure. Or at least a vaccine.”

I studied him for a moment, trying to read his expression. There was no panic, no fear in his eyes. Just a quiet determination. It was clear he wasn’t the kind of man who panicked. But there was something else in his gaze, something I couldn’t quite place.

“Are you sure this is the right approach?” I asked, my voice wavering slightly. “We don’t even know if it’s possible to replicate immunity. And we’re running out of time.”

Ethan’s gaze softened for a moment, a flicker of something beneath the surface. “We have to try. The alternative is too dangerous.”

And so, it began. My journey into the heart of the outbreak. As I worked side by side with Ethan and his team, I couldn’t shake the feeling that everything was spiraling out of control faster than we could handle. But one thing was clear: I had no choice but to keep going. The world was depending on me. And for the first time in my life, I had no idea what would happen next.