Chapter Text
When the plague first started, it was only a simple pathogen. It could only survive in warm, fresh water. It could only be in the air if suspended on dust particles. Its only symptoms were coughing, rash and sneezing, and it had a weak bacterial shell. Because of the simple nature of the bacteria, humanity ignored it.
But 1 man saw the danger in it, recognising its potential to mutate and become unstoppable. In response, he stocked a bunker he already owned (he’d always been a paranoid man) and hid in it until it all blew over.
Well, it blew over alright, just not in the way he wanted.
Instead of humanity curing the disease, as he predicted, it mutated impossibly fast into a killing machine. Extreme zoonosis, antibiotic resistance, necrosis, comas, dysentery, even total organ failure were no strangers to the disease. Humanity almost immediately caved in on itself; developing a cure started all too late, and on the outside, all life ceased to exist: animal, human, plant or other. All of it was gone and taken over completely by this singular disease. Men, women, not even babies or adorable kittens were safe.
This man underground was the only survivor. But that wouldn’t last long.
Not only did he have a limited food supply, but the disease hadn’t finished mutating yet. Of course, he had the most complex and high-quality air filters known to man installed in his vents that would keep the air completely sterile and not allow a single pathogen to enter his uncontaminated area. Unfortunately, the last thing it evolved was extreme bioaerosol. Those mega-expensive and super high-quality air filters were suddenly rendered useless.
One day he woke up to see his hands covered in a rash. Soon after, he started coughing and sneezing.
That was the moment he knew he was done for.
And that was when humanity ended for good, and the pathogen reigned supreme as the sole living creature on Earth.