All Chapters of Eclipse of the Dead: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

The day had started out like any other—like all the others since the outbreak. We’d geared up, prepared for the mission, and set out with the same goal in mind: secure supplies, find survivors, and get back to the base without incident. The plan was simple, but as we had learned, the simpler the plan, the more unpredictable the execution. This time, we were heading to a nearby supply depot. It was relatively close, but the area was known to be heavily infested. Still, it seemed manageable enough. Or so we thought. The sun had already begun to dip below the horizon when we reached the depot’s perimeter. Ethan’s hand signaled for the team to stop. His sharp eyes scanned the area, always alert, always calculating. I could feel the tension in the air, but I tried to ignore it. It was just another mission. What could go wrong? I should’ve known better. --- The ambush came out of nowhere. One moment, we were moving cautiously through the cracked, crumbling walls of the supply depot, c

The days had been long, the missions draining. But even in the thick of everything—the constant chaos, the ever-present threat of infection, and the weight of our responsibilities—Ethan and I found ourselves slipping into moments of quiet connection. It wasn’t something we planned; it wasn’t even something we said out loud. It just happened, these stolen moments, these brief respites from the endless fight. I hadn’t realized how much I needed them until they became a part of my routine, something I actively looked forward to, even in the darkest hours. But more than that, I hadn’t realized how much those quiet moments were changing me, or how deeply they were shifting the way I felt about Ethan. It started innocently enough—just a walk around the perimeter of the camp after a particularly grueling mission. The team was all inside, debriefing, but I had been restless. It was one of those nights where the weight of everything felt like it might crush me, and I couldn’t stay still. I

It was becoming harder to ignore. The subtle shifts, the glances that lasted just a fraction too long, the way our movements seemed to naturally align as we worked side by side. At first, it was easy to pretend—easy to hide behind our professional facades, to bury the growing connection between us beneath the weight of the mission. But the longer we spent together, the more impossible it became to pretend that there was nothing between us. We were more than just teammates now. We were something else, something deeper, something unspoken but undeniable. Ethan and I had always been close, at least by professional standards. I had trusted him from the moment we met, respected him for his leadership, his dedication, and his ability to keep his emotions in check even in the most dire of situations. But recently, I had started to notice something else—something that hadn’t been there before. The way he looked at me when we spoke, the way his presence seemed to calm me even in the middle o

The night after the mission, I was laying in the medic tent, still groggy from the painkillers they’d given me to numb the wound on my side. I could feel the steady hum of the camp around me—the sounds of people talking, the distant crackle of the radio, and the muffled thuds of boots on gravel as soldiers moved about. But through all of that, the only thing I could focus on was the memory of Ethan’s face when he’d seen me injured. The fear in his eyes was unmistakable. I had known that Ethan cared. We’d crossed that line already, and the unspoken bond between us was undeniable. But in the moments when I had been hurt—when I had been on the brink of losing my life—it became so much more than care. It was love. And it terrified him. When I had stumbled back to cover after being injured, I had seen his face, a mask of concentration and determination, but underneath that, there had been a deep, unmistakable fear. Fear of losing me. Fear of what I meant to him. It wasn’t just the miss

The world around us was crumbling. That much was undeniable. Each day brought new threats—whether it was the infected, the hostile survivors, or the overwhelming weight of the mission we were trying to complete. Every decision we made could mean life or death, and the consequences of failure felt more real with each passing day. But through all of that, through all the chaos and the bloodshed, there was one thing that kept me grounded—Ethan. It wasn’t just that he was my partner, my teammate, or even my lover—it was that, in a world that had taken so much from us, he had become the one thing I could rely on. Our relationship had started as something simple, an undeniable connection forged under the pressure of the outbreak. But as the days wore on, as the dangers around us grew more real, I began to see just how powerful our bond had become. It was no longer a distraction. No longer something that could cloud our judgment. It was the source of our strength. It was the reason we ke