The Silent Spread -1

The city was waking up to another quiet morning, unaware of the storm that was brewing just beneath its surface. The early sunlight filtered through the smog, casting long shadows over the quiet streets. But in the heart of the city, something was wrong.

In the sterile, white-lit halls of the morgue, a body lay waiting. It had been there for hours, lifeless and untouched. The man who had been brought in, Liam Bennett, was thought to be the victim of a brutal murder. A deep wound to the abdomen had left him bloodied and broken, but the worst was yet to come.

Ryan, the young medical assistant, ran his hands over the body, preparing for the routine autopsy. He had seen countless cases like this before—violent deaths, senseless acts of brutality. But something about this case felt different. A strange energy clung to the air, and there was an odd heaviness to the room. He didn't know why, but he felt a chill crawl down his spine.

As he prepared to make the first incision, the door creaked open behind him.

"Ryan," a voice called softly.

He turned to see Detective James Callahan standing in the doorway. The older man's sharp eyes took in the scene in a glance, already knowing what the medical assistant was thinking.

"You're sure it's him?" James asked, stepping closer to the table.

Ryan nodded. "No ID, but the wound matches the reports. Same MO. The body was found near the edge of the city, dumped like trash." He paused, feeling the weight of the moment. "But there's something off about it. I can't explain it."

James eyed the body, his mind already racing. "We'll figure it out. Let's see what the autopsy says."

Ryan took a deep breath, gloved hands trembling slightly as he began to cut. The moment the blade pierced the skin, a strange sound echoed through the morgue—a soft, almost imperceptible click, followed by the faintest tremor in the body.

"Did you feel that?" Ryan asked, his voice tight.

James didn't answer at first, his focus entirely on the body. Then, without warning, the temperature in the room seemed to drop. He stepped closer, peering at the man's face, which had a pallor that went beyond the typical post-mortem color. Something wasn't right.

"Ryan, stop."

But it was too late.

The body jerked. A violent, unnatural motion. The hands, once cold and lifeless, reached up toward Ryan with a speed that defied reason. The young man barely had time to react before the fingers closed around his throat, squeezing with terrifying strength.

James lunged forward, pulling the corpse away from Ryan with all his might, but it was no use. The dead man's mouth snapped open, revealing teeth that were far too sharp and much too eager.

"What the hell?" James muttered under his breath, as Ryan stumbled back, gasping for air.

Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the attack stopped. The body fell limp again, as if the life had drained from it once more.

Ryan, his heart racing, looked at James. "What... what was that?"

"I don't know," James replied, his voice calm but his mind running wild. "But I think we've just seen the first sign of something far worse than a simple murder."

The silence that followed was suffocating, broken only by the distant hum of the morgue's fluorescent lights. In that moment, they both knew that the world they once knew was slipping away.

Outside the morgue, the city continued its slow, steady march toward oblivion. But within those cold walls, something ancient and deadly was beginning to spread.

And it would be silent at first.

But soon, everyone would know.

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