Vela Raven
The world is turning into a graveyard, and the graves are emptying faster than the living can bury their dead.
A bite is a death sentence. The infected tear through families, schools, hospitals, entire cities. People barricade themselves inside their homes while their loved ones claw at the doors, begging to be let in with mouths full of blood. Those who escape spend their days scavenging through abandoned shops and their nights listening to the dead gather outside.
Nina Calloway has watched the world become a slaughterhouse. She has seen people trampled over a bottle of water, strangers dragged from hiding places, and desperate survivors trade human lives for a few more hours of safety. Every place that promises shelter eventually becomes another feeding ground.
The infection is spreading. Humanity is losing.
And the worst part is that the zombies are only what everyone can see.
Doom is older than the world humans built, older than their gods, their wars, and their countless attempts to cheat death. He does not need to infect anyone to destroy what humanity has made. His existence carries a consequence the living have never been equipped to understand.
Now the dead are swallowing the earth, and the world is approaching a point from which it may never return.
The last broadcasts have become recordings of people screaming. Entire populations have vanished between one sunrise and the next. Somewhere, a child is being eaten alive while armed men argue over whether the ammunition is worth wasting. The living have started locking their wounded outside, because mercy has become another way to die.
And beneath the carnage lies a truth far more horrifying than any infected mouth.
The answer is Doom.
And humanity has already reached the beginning of its end.
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