Stand by for Redeployment
We were already running hot, sirens tearing through the morning traffic.
9 stories
Pandemic Apocalypse Stories
A pandemic apocalypse is a collapse narrative caused by disease, contagion, plague, engineered pathogens, or ecological illness spreading beyond the ability of communities to contain it. These stories are not only about infection; they are also about quarantine, misinformation, triage, grief, institutional failure, and the eerie intimacy of danger carried by breath, touch, blood, travel, and trust.
Read original pandemic apocalypse short stories on this page from world-class authors, selected from the Ash Tales archive.
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Digging
Fire took out the whole damn block down to the foundations, but not our place. Nope. Of course not. I couldn’t be that lucky, could I?
Happy New Year
Michael grinned widely to see the little girl in the pink puffa jacket, bouncing as she ran towards him, probably more vertical motion than forward movement.
Ground Zero
Dawn. Huntington. The high pitch squawk of a large crow interrupts the still air, as it picks at rubbish strewn over the pavements. A few moments later, the bird takes flight, flapping its wings in exaggerated fashion.
Remains
I had to go out. That meant a full hazardous materials suit to avoid the possibility of airborne contagion.
Suspirium Viridae
That summer was so hot the eucalyptus tree in the back garden dripped oil, making the whole neighbourhood smell disinfected and clean.
The Sleepers
After we burned the beds in the backyard, I watched Bruce tie a rope around his wife to keep her from wandering off and falling asleep. After three days awake, he wasn’t the only one with frayed nerves.
The Warming Sickness
The year is 2096. The setting could be anywhere. You won’t be alive then. Read on.
Snapshots of the End
I crossed the boundary line, entering familiar space as each breath of morning air drew knives into my lungs. The entire trip had taken three and a half days, less than I thought, but more than I would have liked. Most of the access roads were now obsolete, either blocked with rusting, snow covered cars, or patrolled by packs of ferals where nature thrived. None of that mattered now, as the last of my world depended on the few things I brought back with me.