All Chapters of Eclipse of the Dead: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

It was strange how quickly things had changed between Ethan and me. Not long ago, we were just colleagues—partners thrown together by necessity, trying to survive in a world that seemed intent on tearing itself apart. But now, things were different. We were different.I wouldn’t have believed it if someone had told me months ago that I’d fall for a military commander in the middle of an apocalypse, but here we were. Ethan and I had crossed a line neither of us had intended to, and now we were trying to navigate what that meant while the world around us continued to crumble.It wasn’t easy. Our relationship, if you could even call it that yet, felt fragile—like a thin thread holding us together amidst the chaos. Ethan was still the commander, still the leader that everyone looked to for strength and guidance. And I was still the scientist, tasked with finding a cure for the virus that had brought the world to its knees. We had responsibilities, roles we couldn’t ignore. But in the quie

The base felt quieter than usual that evening. Maybe it was the weight of the day, or maybe it was because we’d spent the entire afternoon in a state of heightened alertness, dealing with the aftermath of yet another mission. We’d secured supplies, yes, but the cost had been high—another group of infected had forced us to abandon the plan sooner than we’d hoped. A few soldiers had been injured, and we had barely made it out alive.But tonight, it was just the two of us.Ethan and I had settled into a routine of sorts—one that had become more natural over time, even in a world where everything else felt unpredictable. After a long day, we found ourselves in the mess hall, sitting at a small table tucked away in the corner, as if we were trying to create some semblance of normalcy in the middle of the chaos. The meal was simple—rations we’d grown accustomed to—but it was the quiet companionship that mattered more than anything else.“Could really use a real meal,” I said with a sigh, pi

The hum of the fluorescent lights above me seemed to be the only sound in the lab. I had been here for hours, immersed in the data—charts, graphs, and genetic sequences swirling before my eyes in a blur of information. The virus, the mutations, the potential cure—it all felt so close, yet so far away. I had always been driven by my work, by the relentless pursuit of understanding, but the pressure was different now. The world was counting on me. Ethan was counting on me.I had never allowed myself to feel the weight of it before, but now it felt like it was pressing down on me, suffocating me with every failed test, every new complication. Each trial brought me closer to something—at least, I hoped it did—but the results, or lack thereof, were eating away at me.I sat back in my chair, rubbing my eyes with the heels of my palms. The numbers, the sequences—they didn’t add up. I couldn’t find the answer. It was like looking at a puzzle that I couldn’t solve, no matter how hard I tried.

It was one of those rare nights when the world seemed to hold its breath. The base was quiet, the usual hum of activity reduced to a gentle murmur as most of the team rested. For once, there were no immediate missions, no alarms, no frantic calls for help. Just stillness. Ethan and I sat outside on a makeshift bench near the edge of the base, the cool night air brushing against our faces. Above us, the stars stretched out endlessly, tiny pinpricks of light scattered across the dark canvas of the sky. It was one of the few constants left in this broken world, the stars—untouched by the chaos below. I pulled my jacket tighter around me, leaning back against the wall. Ethan sat beside me, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp, scanning the horizon out of habit. He was always alert, always ready, even in moments like this. “I can’t remember the last time it was this quiet,” I said softly, breaking the silence. Ethan glanced at me, his lips curving into a faint smile. “Enjoy it while

The tension in the air was almost palpable as I made my way back to the command tent. Ethan hadn’t said much after the last mission—a supply run that had gone sideways when the infected ambushed us yet again. His silence wasn’t unusual after something went wrong, but this time it felt different. He had barely looked at me when we returned to the base, and now, hours later, he still hadn’t come to see me. I found him inside the tent, leaning over a map spread out on the table. His shoulders were rigid, his head bowed as he studied the layout. I could tell by the way his fingers tapped impatiently against the edge of the table that he was upset. “Ethan,” I said softly, stepping inside and closing the flap behind me. He didn’t look up. “You shouldn’t be here,” he said, his voice tight. That wasn’t the greeting I’d expected. I frowned, crossing the room to stand beside him. “I’m exactly where I need to be. What’s going on?” Ethan straightened, his hands braced against the table as h