NOTE: I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THESE CHARACTERS. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED TO DC COMICS.
As most know, the world is slowing coming to an end, especially with how these modern people are suppose to live blindly. They all walk around, smiles plastered on their faces as they concentrate on the distractions; the distractions being the things that nobody really needs to know, but they find their attention is glued to people building some new houses, and the new thread that came in from the nearby, safe trees. They are all focused on the most unimportant problems that they forget the real things that are going on outside, the real problems that are happening outside their little bubble that they keep themselves in to forget about the real issues.
Of course, there is those who still know what is going on in this world that we live in, that know the problems and are trying to do something that will fix all the world issues. They call these people "The Rebels." You can never really tell who is a rebel or not, so sometimes you just have to guess. The rebels go out of the bubble that everyone else is living in. The people living in the bubbles don't go out, nor do they know who the rebels are and what they are really doing.
Most people believe that inside the bubble, you are safest, which is true, but it is really no way to be living your life, stuck inside some walls that do not allow you to exist. There are hundreds of cities that are like this, that have big and thick walls blocking them from the other side so everyone will stay safe. It didn't always use to be like this though.
Fifty years ago, an outbreak of a deadly virus occurred. The virus was known as "Mors Non Est Finis"(which means "Death Is Not The End" in latin), but most people just referred to it as "The Virus." Nobody is really sure where the virus was created, or how it happened, but everyone knows that one day, people just started dropping dead, then coming back up as something…. Undead. A zombie, for lack of better word. When the Mors Non Est Finis virus started slowly spreading, almost everyone started looking for some type of cure, but nothing seemed to work, which just led to more people turning into walking corpses. Eventually, the virus became stronger, more powerful, taking millions and millions. By this point, the people who were alive and fighting decided that there was no cure, that they would have to find an alternative, so, people started building walls, making a city, keeping everyone inside safe, and keeping all the bad things on the outside.
When word got out that this was the alternative solution, people living started doing this. Of course, it took years to finish, and many lives were still lost in the process, but it managed working. The bad thing was that all the evil things in the world still walked, still waiting for prey. This was how the world worked now, people inside walls, a bubble basically, preventing you from leaving, but it managed keeping you safe, too.
Naturally, not everyone agreed with the methods of solving the problem. This is where The Rebels come in.
Despite the fact the walls had been put up to keep people in, there was always a way out. The Rebels found that way out, and left. Some came back, and some didn't. Another issue had risen from this. Those who came back were sometimes infected by the virus, which would lead to another outbreak in the small city that the wall provided. Most of the time, the issue was erased by shooting what was infected, but that didn't really erase the issue because there was still some who wished to venture out, maybe get a cure for this. But, the person who ran each small, walled-in city did not approve of The Rebels, so certain rebels who were discovered were killed. Others, the ones who were not discovered, kept doing what they were doing in secret. It has been like this for fifty years, and not one day has passed by where a rebel has gone close enough to figuring out how to fix the virus, but it still does not keep them from trying.
Now, here we are, in a small, walled-in city where people "live."
Her brush-stroke pressed against the side of her house, a red circle being made where she had pressed the paintbrush to. A content smile was on her lips, and despite the fact the world was basically ruined, the young woman managed to keep her hopes up, fortunately.
She hummed blissfully to herself, painting and painting, because this is what she did every day since she graduated high school. She painted, painted, and painted. And what she painted was the beautiful thing, because on the side of the house, where she stood, used to be a blank white wall. When the girl was younger, about 6 or 7, she realized the wall was too bland, so she had gone to her mother, informing her that she wanted to paint it, make it pretty. Her mother told her when she was of age, she could paint freely upon it, but for now she would focus on school. The girl had agreed.
The young woman was now eighteen, had turned that age three months ago, and this was her masterpiece so far. She didn't quite know if it was correct or not, seeing as she had never seen the world like it had used to be, but it looked beautiful to her.
On what used to be a blank, white wall, was now a painted growing tree, apples hanging, a meadow behind, and flowers pricking the painted on grass. Each brush-stroke looked as if it was taken with care, perfectly done to make the most beautiful artwork the small, walled-in city had ever seen, and it was. A few citizens over the past three months had stopped and stared, admiring the hopefulness the girl had possessed.
After all, she just wanted to see the world for how it used to be, not the disaster as it was, but some things are just wishful thinking, unfortunately.
"Kori!" A voice had shouted before a head popped from the window, staring down at the girl who was painting happily. "Dinner was ready like thirty minutes ago and you're still down there painting! Get your ass back up here already, or I'm throwing your food away." Then, the head disappeared, and all that was heard was a sigh escaping the lips of the redhead, known as Kori Anders.
"Fine," the girl grumbled, placing her painting set down before she made her way to the front of the house, opening the door, then closing it behind her softly. Her eyes flickered to the living room, which held her best friend, Donna Troy.
"Your lovely sister already threw your food away," Said Donna, a sad smile gracing her lips as she tucked away of black hair from her blue eyes. "But, luckily for you, your lovely best friend, known as me, saved you some." She grinned, and Kori returned the smile.
"Thanks, Donna," the redhead said gratefully, jumping onto the couch as Donna pulled out the wrapped plate from behind the cushioned pillow and handed it over to the emerald-eyed beauty. "You would think with the apocalypse and everything that Kom would be saving food, not wasting it by throwing it away just to torture me." With that being said, Kori dug in, savoring each bite like it was her last.
"I know!" Donna rolled her eyes. "If your parents were still around, she'd be in so much trouble right about now."
"Yeah, mom and dad would kill her, metaphorically speaking, of course," Kori clarified, yet talked with her mouth full. Her mother and father had disappeared two years ago. Kori refused to face the fact they were dead, but nobody really knows what happened to them, or if they are still alive. But, in respect of Kori, Donna refused to classify Kori's parents as dead.
"So, how's your painting going?" Donna asked curiously, crisscrossing her legs then resting her head in her palms.
"Good," Kori answered, setting her now empty plate down. "I am almost finished with it. I would go out now and finish it up, but since it is getting dark, I do not wish to accidentally ruin my creation." She leaned back, and Donna nodded. "Do you—Do you think the way I am drawing was really what the world use to look like? Or, am I just looking at too many old pictures?"
"I think it looks exactly like the world looks—like how the world used to look." Donna told Kori, before reaching under the coffee table and pulling out old magazines that dated back more than fifty years ago. Kori and Donna had a good friend named Victor who, somehow, managed to get old things that nobody had seen in over fifty years. Of course, things that were discovered like that looked highly suspicious to find, so instead of giving it over to the authorities, Victor—Vic for short—would bring it to Kori and Donna, allowing them to look at things first before Victor sold it to others that wanted the items.
"Look," Donna flipped through the pages of the magazine, careful not to cause any damage. She went straight to one of the pages that had a picture of a meadow. "It looks exactly like the way you are drawing it. You're doing a wonderful job, sweetie."
Kori nodded slowly, her emerald orbs looking at every detail then mentally comparing it to her own artwork. "I wish we could… be somewhere like that…" She trailed off and Donna nodded, understanding how her best friends mind worked.
Kori wanted more in life, but she knew with how the world works that it was just something along the lines of mindless dreaming and wishful thinking. The small, walled-in cities did not really classify being an artist as a real occupation. You had to be something that could help the world, like a doctor, nurse, scientist, or something along the lines of that. Kori wanted to help the world, she really did, but painting was more of her calling, and it was unfortunate that some would disrespect her because of how she chose to live her life. Of course, most couldn't really say anything rude in front of her because her grandparents were the people, along with a few other deceased, that created the walls, made the plan for it. Kori's family was sort of legendary because of it, so nobody could say mean things in front of her, or her older sister, or Donna.
Donna wasn't blood, but she was family. Donna Troy was known as a small miracle around here. Eighteen years ago, a one year old child was brought into the small city. The child was Donna. A man known as Bruce Wayne rescued her, everyone thought him to be a rebel, but the accusation was soon dismissed. Donna was found helpless though because she was merely a child with nobody with her during the rescue. Kori's family decided to take her in and raise her as one of their own before Kori was born, so Donna was basically family, and people respected her just as much.
As silence took over with both girls staring at the picture, wishing for more, a knock was then heard, causing both girls to draw their attention away.
"Get the door!" Kom, the older sister of Kori, shouted. Donna and Kori rolled their eyes, but Donna got up, letting Kori take her time to once again look at the magazine for the hundredth time.
Donna stood on her toes, looking through the small hole to see who it was. "It's Victor," she said, which then took Kori's attention. Because Victor was known by Kori and Donna for about ten years, there was no asking permission of Kom if they could let him in, Donna opened the door, revealing the 6'5" African-American man with boxes in his muscled arms, and a smile on his face.
"Ladies," Victor greeted as Donna took a step back, allowing him to enter.
"Did you bring us presents?" Kori asked, a giggle leaving her lips as she set the magazine down then crisscrossed her legs while Donna shut the door and stole Victor's seat before he could take it.
"Do I ever come here without bringing gifts?" The twenty-year old smirked, setting the boxes down, but quickly placing his big hands upon them before the girls could take a peek. "You know you ladies can't—"
"—Tell anyone about the gifts." Donna and Kori finished in unison, already having this conversation with Victor multiple times before.
"No use in really explaining it to both of you, huh?" He chuckled, taking his seat in the old, squeaky chair. "Okay, have at it." Before the words could even leave him, Donna and Kori were already peeling open the boxes, gasps leaving girls lips by what they saw.
"Is that what I think it is?" They both spoke softly the same words, delight filling them instantly, overwhelming their very souls because they had not seen this in so many years. It was delight to both of them immensely.
Make-Up.
Authors Note: Okay, obviously, as you see, this is a zombie story, and it will get much more interesting as it goes on. I will be updating once a week, I promise. If I don't, then it's probably just me procrastinating or having issues. I recently went through a break-up and it was hard on me, so forgive me.