Dead To The World Novel Novels & Stories

The morgue was cold, carrying a foul, sterile smell. Expressionless staff pushed me into a metal drawer. With a soft "click," the door closed. The system's voice echoed in my mind. [Death confirmed. Final storyline completed.] [Countdown to soul departure: 71 hours 59 minutes.] [Please await the opening of the passage.] I drifted in the cold, hollow air and let out a breath. Finally, things were coming to an end.

The sound was not a bang, but a hum—a singular, impossibly loud note that silenced the groan of the city, the roar of the flood, and the frantic beating of Nikos’s own heart. As the light engulfed everything, the last thing Nikos felt was the cold, unyielding press of the floor beneath him and the terrified, frantic kick of the life growing within him—the only pulse left in a dead world. Then, the world shattered into silence.

Whimpers echoed in my throat, my face scrunching up as tears started to stream again. Everyone was dead, except me, but I would be soon. Maybe his fast death was the better way to go, rather than experiencing the cruel torture of waiting, of being subjected to restraint. Hope was slipping from me, as much as I clung to it. Breathing became difficult. I couldn’t get enough air, and it felt like I was going to suffocate. The more I thought about it, the worse it became. Every shot echoed. The smell of the room. Dead. Everyone. After a few minutes, the world went black.

~~~ R-O-M-12:12—12|13|14|15 - hope II-C-O-R-4:10—31|32|33|34|35 - dying J-O-H-N-3:16—17|18|19|20|21 - world 4_2_3_5_5 H O P E _ _ _ _ _ D Y I N G W O R L D 4 2 3 5 5 ~~~ “Hope on the Dying World?” - Xol “Hope in the Dying World?” - Czaquira “Hope of the Dying World.” Timotheus uttered.

However, as bizarre as that sight was, it was nothing compared to what lay in the snow next to them. At first Emily thought it was her husband, his skull cracked open in twilight once more. Only no. It couldn’t be. The Ministry no longer exterminated the infected in their homes, dragging them out into the streets and slaughtering them like dogs as they had her husband. In fact, Jordan was the last person to have his life prematurely ended that way in all fifty states. It was his death that led to the revolt, catching the entire country off guard. Emily had been proud of South Carolina then, despite their betrayal coming from those very streets—from people she had trusted no less. The zombie

Pathetic! I tried to push myself up again, but my arms trembled and gave out. I hit the ground with a dull thud, breath leaving my lungs. So, this is how I would die? Flad on my back, without even putting up a fight. What a joke. If I had known it would end like this, I would have let the fire take me. he watched me for a moment, unreadable. Then he moved. Before I could react, he bent down and lifted me as if I weight nothing. The world tilted, and suddenly I was slung over his shoulder like I was nothing more than a sack.

***TRIGGER WARNING: Extreme violence and gore! There is torture in this chapter, if this is something that triggers you please forgo this chapter. ~ENZO POV~ I can feel everything. Whether I am awake or asleep, it doesn’t matter. The pain settles deep in my bones, in the recesses of my mind, and buries itself deep. It’s rotting me from the fucking inside out. My muscles contract involuntarily as something as simple as the blood pumping through my veins becomes agonizing. Death has never been a fear of mine, but it has also never been something I crave. Until now.

I was dead, I knew that, however I didn’t think the very last thing I would ever hear would be my queen, telling someone else not to let her die while wearing my mark. My heart suddenly stopped beating altogether and a single tear fell out of my eye. The last thing my eyes saw before I succumbed was Lewis, biting down gently on the part of Dylan’s flesh that I had claimed. Successfully replacing my mark with his own. I died… without a single ounce of affection from the one I called mate, I died knowing that my demise had also ended the new world as we knew it. Wolves and humans would never be segregated the way we had been. My version of a perfect world had undoubtably perushed with me.

I heard the clicking of camera shutters, but no one called the ambulance. My blood drained dry. My body became cold. Finally, Yvette Skye was no more. I died all alone at the corner of the street. No one cared. My corpse was not a pretty sight. My eyes were wide, unseeing, and there was a large hole in my stomach. My legs were twisted together. One of my arms was flung by the side of the road. My legs were useless now. I was ugly. No wonder the little girl cried. Floating in the air, I stared at my mutilated corpse.

He had a way of making decisions without ever needing to speak them aloud, as if he could sense the right path before it even appeared. I nodded, gripping the edge of my seat as the vehicle bounced over uneven terrain. The tension in the air was palpable. I knew we were walking into a hot zone, and I didn’t know how bad it was going to be. I wasn’t used to seeing people—human beings—turn into mindless, rotting monsters, but in this new world, that’s exactly what I had to witness every day. It was hard not to feel like we were losing something with every encounter.