THE DEAD ARE STILL ALIVE

Chapter 1 The last thing Miriam remembered was the screaming—not from her own throat, but inside her mind. She had been lying on the snow-dusted concrete outside her villa, her cheek pressed against the cold ground as her husband, Mark, locked the heavy iron gate from the inside. Beside him stood Clara, Miriam's first cousin, her silk scarf moving in the cold wind. Clara's hands trembled, but her eyes showed no fear. "I'm so sorry, Miri," Mark shouted through the bars, his voice loud enough for the guards behind him to hear. "You've been exposed! I can't risk the family estate! You would want us to survive!" Then came the infection. The parasite virus invaded her lungs and took control of her nervous system, forcing her body to move against her will. But her mind remained awake. That wasn't the worst part: the infected were fully conscious, trapped inside their own decaying bodies while the organism forced them to attack their loved ones. Through the fungal network, Miriam heard the voices of millions. They weren't crying out for meat. They were terrified, screaming inside their own minds as they fled from something deep beneath the earth that controlled the surface virus. Then the world fell apart. Her pupils contracted as she watched a military jet dropped a bomb, where she stood. And it all went pitch black and flames. Miriam's eyes flew open again. Her lungs expanded as she drew in clean air. No spores. No rot. No blood in her mouth. She gasped, clutching her chest, her fingers tangled in soft ivory tulle. She stumbled forward, her vision blurred by the bright light before settling on a full-length mirror. A woman stared back at her. She had smooth skin, bright emerald eyes, and wore a lace dress fitted to her body before spreading into a mermaid tail. She held a bouquet of white calla lilies. Her bridal suite. Miriam stared at her delicate, unmarked hands. The digital clock on the wall flickered, displaying a strange message beside the time: "10:14 AM." [SYSTEM ACTIVATED] A sharp sound rang in her ears, making her cover them with both hands. The pain lasted five seconds before stopping. She looked at the clock again. [FIRST TASK: HOST. BUILD A SECURE FORTRESS WITH LABORATORIES.] She stared at the message, then checked the date on her phone. It was six months before the outbreak. Looking down at her wedding dress and veil, she realized the truth: she hadn't simply survived. She had returned to the exact day she was supposed to marry Mark. Her heart raced. Six months before the infection. Six months before the world fell apart. Six months to prepare, build a fortress, gather supplies, and discover what had terrified the infected. And she had no time to waste on her husband. A knock sounded at the mahogany door. "Miri, darling? Five minutes!" Clara called cheerfully. "Mark is already at the altar. He looks like he's about to faint from excitement." Miriam stared at the door. In her past life, she had discovered Mark and Clara in her matrimonial bed three months after their wedding. She had believed Mark's tearful apologies and his claims that Clara had seduced him and that it was a one-time mistake. She had forgiven him, desperate to protect her father's legacy and preserve her marriage. That mistake had cost her life, her estate, and her humanity. Miriam picked up her veil, pinned it to her hair, and smiled at her reflection. The smile didn't reach her eyes. "I'm coming, Clara," she replied. The Cathedral of St. Jude was grand, with stained-glass windows casting colored light across the floor. Three hundred distinguished guests had gathered to watch the heiress of Vance Tech Corporation marry Mark Sterling, the middle-class architect who had won her heart after her parents died. Organ music played as the congregation turned in their seats. Miriam walked down the aisle alone, refusing her uncle's offer to escort her. She kept her chin lifted and her gaze fixed ahead. At the end of the aisle stood Mark, looking handsome in his midnight-blue tuxedo. He was sweating slightly, a rehearsed smile on his lips. To his left stood Clara, the maid of honor, holding Miriam's spare ring box and wearing a muted rose dress. To the guests, Clara looked like a happy cousin sharing in the occasion. Miriam knew better. She watched Mark straighten his tie. Look at him, she thought. He's already thinking about my family's wealth and the company shares he'll control. She reached the altar. Mark stepped forward and took her gloved hands in his. His palms were warm, unlike the cold iron gate he would later lock against her. "You look beautiful," Mark whispered, his voice full of emotion. Miriam said nothing. She stared at him, remembering the way he had spoken when he told her she was infected. The elderly bishop cleared his throat and began the ceremony, speaking about marriage, commitment, and standing together through hardship. Miriam stood still, waiting for him to finish. Finally, the bishop turned to Mark. "Mark Sterling, do you take Miriam Vance to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?" Mark looked into Miriam's eyes and squeezed her hands tighter. "I do," he answered confidently. A few guests chuckled. The bishop turned to Miriam. "And do you, Miriam Vance, take Mark Sterling to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?" The church fell silent, waiting for the answer everyone expected from the love-struck heiress. Everyone knew how much she adored Mark. She had bought him cars, funded his firm, and given him a vice-presidential position at her company. Miriam slowly pulled her hands from his grip. She took a step back, her heels clicking against the marble floor. "Miriam?" Mark whispered, his brow furrowing as his smile faded. Miriam raised her voice, making sure everyone could hear her. "No." The guests gasped. Chairs scraped against the floor. Mark went pale. "Miri... what are you doing? Is this a joke?" Beside them, Clara stepped forward, looking confused. "Miri, sweetie, what's wrong? Are you having a panic attack? Bishop, give her a moment—" "I said no," Miriam repeated. She looked at Mark before turning to Clara. "Miri, please," Mark whispered, stepping toward her. His face reddened with embarrassment. "Everyone is watching. Stop this madness. If you're nervous—" "I am completely sane, Mark," Miriam said, removing her veil and dropping it to the floor. "I've never been more certain about anything." "Miriam, think of your family's reputation!" her uncle shouted, standing from the front pew. "Think of the company!" "I am thinking of the company," Miriam replied, turning to face the guests. "Effective immediately, Mark Sterling is stripped of his board seat and position at Vance Tech. His access to the corporate accounts is revoked." "You can't do this!" Mark snapped, his anger replacing his usual charm. "You love me! You've spent months begging me to settle down!" "That was the naive Miriam," she replied quietly, leaning closer so only Mark and Clara could hear her. "The Miriam standing here knows exactly what you two do when you think I'm not looking. And she knows what you're both worth." Clara gasped and stepped back, her face pale. Mark froze, panic showing in his eyes. Miriam turned away from the altar. She gathered her wedding dress and walked back down the aisle. The guests watched in silence, but Miriam ignored them. She saw the six months ahead of her. Six months to secure her assets and build a self-sustaining underground bunker beneath her family estate. Six months to gather firearms, medical supplies, and filtration systems. And, most importantly, six months to prepare for the thing the infected had feared so deeply.