The disease started in a small town, unnoticed at first. No one could predict what would follow. Dogs, calm and loyal, began to change. The early signs were subtle. At first, they would just grow a bit bigger than usual, a slight twitch in their behavior. But soon, it was clear: something much worse had taken hold.
By the time the government realized the scope of the epidemic, it was too late. People tried to keep their pets inside, but it didn't help. The dogs grew faster, their bodies stretching in unnatural ways, their muscles bulging, skin splitting as they transformed into horrific, monstrous versions of themselves. At first, they attacked only other animals, but it wasn't long before they turned on humans.
The panic was immediate. In less than a week, the world's major cities had fallen into chaos. Families locked themselves away in their homes, hiding from the creatures that had once been their companions.
Others fled to underground bunkers, hoping to escape the rampage. The streets were filled with the sound of dogs, monstrous and wild, hunting anyone they could find. People who had been brave enough to venture out were found torn apart, their bodies savaged beyond recognition.
The disease spread rapidly, devastating communities, cities, countries. Every dog was a potential weapon, and even those who had been friendly just days before had become savage killers, their eyes glazed over with the primal hunger of a predator. It was a war that no one had been prepared for, and the survivors were losing ground.
Tommy had seen it all unfold from the safety of his house. He had no family left; they had all disappeared, likely to the streets, probably dead. His old dog, Sam, a retriever who had been his companion for years, had been one of the first to show signs of the disease.
Tommy had watched in horror as the dog's body began to swell, its face twisted in pain, and its mind shattered. It had been Sam for so long—Tommy never thought his pet could turn into something so vicious, so monstrous.
But Sam was gone now. It had been several weeks since Tommy had to put him down. He couldn't bring himself to do it at first. He had tried everything—locked him in the garage, fed him scraps of food, hoping the old dog would return to normal.
But it didn't happen. The more time passed, the more Sam grew. He eventually became too big for the garage, knocking down doors, windows. It was as though the dog was a ticking time bomb, growing larger and more unstable by the day.
Tommy had no choice but to end it. He had done it with a knife, the blade cold in his trembling hands. Sam hadn't even barked when the end came, just stared at him with those crazed, glassy eyes. The whole thing had felt wrong, but Tommy had no choice. He had heard too many stories, seen too many bodies, to not act.
The memory haunted him, but it was nothing compared to what lay ahead. The disease didn't stop at dogs. Soon, there were rumors of cats, other animals. Anything with a pulse, it seemed, was susceptible. People locked their doors and stayed indoors, too afraid to leave their homes. The world became a place of silence, broken only by the occasional crash of something heavy or the growl of an unseen beast.
Tommy had nowhere to go. He didn't know how much longer his house would hold out. The food supplies were dwindling, and the city's power had gone out days ago. It was cold now, and he could hear the wind howling outside, its voice harsh, desperate.
He tried to block out the sounds of the world dying around him. He tried to pretend things were normal, that everything would be okay, but the truth was, he could feel it—he could feel the world closing in on him.
He hadn't heard any dogs for the last couple of days, but he knew they were still out there. He knew that sooner or later, they would find him. That was the truth everyone had learned in the early days: dogs didn't stop. They hunted. They were predators now. They couldn't be reasoned with, couldn't be avoided. And when the disease changed them, it didn't just make them bigger. It made them hungry for blood.
Tommy had tried to prepare. He had gathered what little he could from stores that still had supplies. The windows were boarded up, and he had barricaded the door with furniture, desperate to hold back anything that might come knocking. He kept his rifle close at hand. He wasn't sure if it would do any good, but he kept it there just in case.
It was the silence that drove him crazy. It was the fear of knowing that at any moment, something could change. The thought that one day he would hear the unmistakable sound of paws scraping against his door, the low growl that would follow, the weight of something huge pounding toward him.
That day came sooner than he expected.
It started with a distant noise, a thud. Tommy's heart skipped a beat. He held his breath, straining to listen. Another thud, this time louder, closer. And then… the growl.
It was unmistakable. The growl of something large, something angry.
Tommy's hands shook as he gripped his rifle tighter. He moved quickly, checking the windows, making sure the boards were still secure. Another thud, louder now, right outside the door. He turned, frantic, searching the room. His pulse was racing. He could feel the panic creeping up his spine.
Another thud, followed by a scraping sound. A claw, sharp and long, dragged against the wood of the door. Tommy backed away from it, his breath shallow.
He was trapped. There was nowhere to run.
The growl came again, closer now. The beast was outside, its massive form pressing against the door. Tommy could hear it breathing, heavy and labored. And then, the scratching started again, louder this time, as though the creature was trying to claw its way in.
Tommy took a deep breath, his fingers trembling around the rifle. The noise grew louder, the creature relentless. His eyes darted to the only window left unblocked—the one in the back of the house. It was high up, but it could be his only way out. He had to move fast.
Just as he was about to turn, he heard it. The door creaked, splintering under the weight of the creature's force. The wood was cracking, breaking. His time was up.
The dog, now the size of a horse, burst through the door, its eyes wild with hunger. Tommy didn't have time to react. The creature lunged, knocking him to the floor. It's massive jaws snapped around his torso, and everything went black.
Tommy's last thought wasn't fear, but sadness. He thought of Sam, the dog he had once known, the dog he had loved. And now, in the end, he was the one being consumed.
The house, once a refuge, became a tomb. And outside, the world was just one giant wasteland, overrun by creatures that no longer resembled the animals they had once been.
In the end, it wasn't the disease that killed Tommy. It was the loss of humanity that tore everything apart.