JADC

Waking up in a hospital with a broken leg and a splitting headache was bad enough. But being trapped there as the world collapsed? That was something else.

It started small. A patient down the hall coughing—a wet, ragged sound that never seemed to stop. Then the whispers between nurses, the frantic pages over the intercom. By the time the first screams echoed through the corridors, it was already too late. The infection didn’t start today. It had been building, spreading, hiding in plain sight. We just didn’t see it—until the doors burst open and the blood began to flow.

I was awake for all of it. I heard the gurgled cries of those who couldn’t run. The ones who tried to fight. The ones who turned. I smelled the decay before the bodies even cooled. And when the world outside finally went quiet—when the sirens faded and the streets emptied—it felt like nothing was left.

But survival isn’t just about escaping. It’s about something more. I don’t believe the world ends just because the rules change. I don’t believe we’re meant to scatter and die alone. Because even now, in the ruins of everything we built, there are still people out there fighting, surviving, searching.

And as long as we remember that, we have something left to fight for.

Table of They Who Hunger

Table of contents

Volume 1