Cosmic Plague

Cosmic Plague

It was the evening that the stars seemed to fall. In a remote stretch of desert, beyond the jagged peaks and endless dunes, something from the vast darkness above broke through the sky. It landed with a force that sent a shockwave of dust and rock into the air, shaking the earth beneath the feet of those few who were unlucky enough to be nearby.

The first responders were the soldiers stationed at a nearby military base, an isolated fortress of concrete and steel, designed to protect the country from threats unknown. At first, they believed it was a meteorite—just a rare but not unheard-of space rock hurtling to Earth. They’d dealt with debris from outer space before, but nothing like this. No one could have known that the object they retrieved from the crater was not just a rock—it was a vessel. A deadly one.

Sergeant Thomas Pierce was one of the first to arrive at the crash site. The heat from the meteorite still radiated as he cautiously approached, wearing his protective gear. His boots crunched on the ground, and his breath came in short bursts from beneath his helmet. His team had already set up a perimeter. The crater was smoking, the earth around it blackened and scorched, yet there was something otherworldly about the metallic sheen of the meteorite. It glowed faintly under the desert sky, almost as if alive.

As they moved closer, a strange humming noise filled the air. Pierce could feel a tingling sensation in his fingertips, as though the very atmosphere had changed. His commanding officer, Colonel Vick, ordered the team to begin their assessment. They didn’t know that their curiosity would soon turn into a nightmare.

A soldier, Corporal Scott, was the first to touch the meteorite’s surface. The moment his fingers made contact with the alien substance, his body jerked violently. His face twisted in agony, and before anyone could react, his skin began to ripple, as though something was crawling beneath it. His comrades watched in terror as his flesh split open in horrifying ways, revealing a grotesque, alien appendage pushing through his body. The air around him filled with a sickening, organic smell—something between decay and chemicals.

"Scott!" Pierce shouted, trying to reach him, but it was too late. The corporal’s body contorted, and with one final scream, he collapsed to the ground, twitching. But then he began to rise again. His eyes were glassy and unseeing, his face a mask of horror, his mouth agape as if seeking something—anything—to consume. It was the moment the infection began.

The soldiers opened fire on him, but the bullets didn’t stop him. He kept advancing, mindless, aggressive, his skin sloughing off in places, revealing an inhuman form beneath. The others tried to fight back, but it was useless. The infection spread so quickly that within hours, the military base itself was overrun.

Within days, the plague had spread beyond the base, and the world began to learn the horrifying truth. The meteorite had released an unknown alien substance that rewrote the very biology of those it touched. It reprogrammed their cells, turning them into something monstrous. The infected were no longer human—they were creatures of hunger, driven by an insatiable need to feed. The first signs were fever, delirium, and severe pain. But within hours, the transformation was complete. They became zombies, grotesque versions of their former selves, with skin that bubbled and blackened, eyes that glowed an eerie red, and mouths that could only scream for flesh.

As the world watched in terror, civilization began to crumble. News outlets tried to report on the outbreak, but their broadcasts were cut short as the infection spread like wildfire. Cities fell in the span of hours, communication lines severed, governments scrambling to respond. No one could contain it. No one knew how to stop it.

The survivors were few and far between.

Inside the military base, Sergeant Pierce and a small group of soldiers had managed to barricade themselves in the command center. Their resources were dwindling, but they held on—locked in a battle with time and terror. The few civilians who had made it into the base were infected before long. Those who weren’t had begun to show signs of the virus’s influence. It was only a matter of time before it turned them all into mindless predators.

The base became a fortress under siege. Outside, the desert winds howled, carrying with them the faint cries of the infected. The survivors inside were haunted by the constant fear of being overrun, of being consumed. They could hear the distant growls and screeches as the infected tore through their comrades. And yet, they fought on, holding their fragile little bastion together with the thinnest strands of hope.

But hope was fleeting. One by one, the survivors succumbed. Corporal Miller was the first to go. He had been a strong and reliable soldier, but when the infection finally took hold, his body betrayed him. The transformation was brutal. His skin bubbled, and his bones snapped and reformed in unnatural ways. His mind shattered, replaced by a hunger that left him no choice but to attack his comrades.

Pierce had to put him down.

As the days stretched on, the reality of their situation began to sink in. They were fighting against something beyond comprehension—an infection so alien, so fast, that the usual methods of survival were meaningless. Nothing could stop it. It spread too quickly, too efficiently.

Outside, entire cities fell to the infected. The military tried to mobilize, but every attempt to push back was met with overwhelming force. The plague spread across countries, consuming everything in its path. Hospitals, once sanctuaries, became breeding grounds for the infected. Major cities became warzones, their streets littered with the bodies of the dead and dying.

It wasn’t long before the survivors of the base realized that there was no escaping it. There was no "safe zone." They had been lied to. The government promised them safety, but in the end, it was all a lie. The infection knew no borders. No walls could contain it. No plan could stop it.

Sergeant Pierce found himself alone. The rest of his squad was gone, either infected or lost to the chaos. The world outside had fallen silent—except for the constant, low moan of the infected that echoed across the world. As he made his way through the desolate base, Pierce found remnants of the life that once was. Empty rooms, scattered papers, and forgotten belongings. But the people—his comrades, the civilians—were gone. The infection had taken them all, just as it had taken the world.

As Pierce stumbled through the shattered remnants of the military base, he knew there was no hope left. The infection was unstoppable. The alien substance had done its work, and there would be no cure. Humanity had been rewritten, transformed into something grotesque and monstrous, its very essence consumed by the plague that had come from the stars.

The world was no longer a place for the living.

It was a world of the dead.

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