The Dead Are Asleep And Know Nothing Novels & Stories

It was late, and the base was quieter than I had ever heard it. The usual hum of voices and movement had faded, leaving only the low buzz of the generators and the occasional sound of footsteps outside. Everyone was either asleep or too exhausted to speak. I couldn’t blame them. It had been a long, grueling day, one of the worst we’d had in weeks.

"If you don't want to live, then you can die too." To my surprise, that one strike had not only killed Tyler but also awakened Evelyn. But Edith had already stopped listening to Evelyn's words. She stared blankly ahead, like her soul had left her body. I followed her gaze. It was where Tyler had fallen. I sighed and left the hospital.

He suddenly felt a burning longing. Felen tried to get up, but her body was no longer listening to her brain's commands. Moreover, her eyelids felt very heavy. She wanted so badly to run into Leon's arms, and tell her everything that had happened to her today. The last thing Felen met before the pitch black darkness greeted her was Leon's soft yet firm voice saying, "Sleep for no, Felenia, but you must remember one thing—you are not allowed to die, yet. Until I grant you permission to die, stay alive and fullfil your role properly."

Willow truly didn't love him anymore. When Nathan saw the paper bag in the nurse's hand, he snatched it and tore it open. Inside the bag was the rosary Willow had thrown away at the hospital. "Willow left this behind when she was discharged days ago," the nurse said. "I heard she passed away. As her family, you should have it." Nathan clutched the rosary tightly, his voice trembling as he said, "You're lying. Willow can't be dead!" Lily didn't want to watch him lose it any further and bluntly said, "Nate, snap out of it! You've been in a coma for three days, and her burial is today."

C H A P T E R 1 1 : S U P E R M A N G O T N O T H I N G O N M E Stupid creatures we humans are, often poisoning ourselves unconsciously with our own hands and finding the cure elsewhere. ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ Did you know the curious state in between waking and dreaming? That stagnant moment where your eyes refused to open even when your mind knew it was time to wake up?

It only made sense they were fuming. The next day, Aria tried her old trick again, offering me a cup laced with a sleeping draught. I played along, pretending to drink, and acted as if I had drifted off. As night fell, Aria and Melissa crept in, up to no good. Brandon shot up in bed, thinking that if even someone in a coma had to shift positions periodically, he certainly should too. I jerked my head up, staring at him, my eyes wide with disbelief.

I knew better; the fish I gave her was boneless. Jane's lips trembled as she tried to steady her voice, "That's because the nurses cleaned her up before they brought her here." "Cleaned her up, huh?" My voice turned icy. "Then answer me this: after death, the body cools, starting with the limbs." I pressed down on my daughter's rigid arms and belly. "So why is her stomach colder than her arms and legs?" I yanked up her sleeve to reveal more than just cold skin. "Livor mortis already? That was fast."

Coleman padded along the walls, the secretions holding him to the surface like Velcro knitting together. Andrew continued to climb down the ladder, Suzanne over his shoulder in a fireman’s lift. Timms, hanging on above, but below Jackson, was the first to shoot up at the thing... because it was no longer a man, no longer technically alive anymore—which caused another problem for those trying to combat the Sleepers. If the virus was inside you when you died—the air getting to Coleman’s bullet wounds as he lay bleeding to death—then apparently it wouldn’t let you go without a fight. They hadn’t hung around to see, but maybe back there during the first battle the burnt up sleepers had carried o

The dead did not breathe was an odd thing for elora to think. That was the first thing Elora noticed as they began to close in. No rise or fall of chests. No puff of white in the frigid night air. Just silence—an oppressive, smothering kind of silence—broken only by the faint drag of limbs over the forest floor.

“Out of…what?” She gestures down and Tony turns his head to look off of some stark cliff that wasn’t there a moment ago and sees – indeed – a strange gossamer current of air, all brown and grey and beige, and floating in it…forms. People. All asleep, or half awake, like he was a moment ago. “Where are they going?” he whispers. “To the Deadlands,” she replies, and Tony looks back up at her, his stomach sinking. “In the Underworld.”