Prologue
Great Britain. So great it must have been before it fell. The historic architecture had crumbled from the shockwaves; fragments from the missiles burnt deep within the old folk tales; and the thick smog masked what was left of broken Britain. Through the smoke emerged slick, rotten corpses left behind from the carnage. All of them had families, ones they cherished dearly, but now they were subjected to lead the soulless, mindless life of a zombie.
It took two weeks before the survivors came out of their hiding places and decided it was their time to cause more destruction. Heads of the corpses lay throughout the once luscious countryside. It hadn't taken long for the wise ones to discover that the corpses slushy brains were the only way to stop them. However, they were fresh corpses which meant they were fast.
Those who had lived in small towns stayed there until the supplies ran out. From there, they had progressed onto the outskirts of the cities. It was rare for others to cross paths further up North, but down South, near London, was where frequent clashes occurred. Food wasn't scarce, however, the chance that somebody was eyeing up the food you wanted, was likely. The cities were a deathtrap, and attempting them in groups was the worst approach, as running through the dense streets huddled together meant the zombies had more to grab.
As the years passed, more survivors died and the large population of humans died down. Those who were smart set up communities, but they were often open to attacks from other people. It soon became more likely that you would be killed by a human than a zombie.
Six years in and the long frost coated Britain. Its natural climate was familiar with the nippy colds that came throughout autumn and winter, but the frost was hard to bear. It was wiping out more of the survivors and it had caused the zombies to adapt. They were now glazed with ice, although their movements were stiff, their sharpened nails and teeth were more deadly.
The rivers, lakes and streams were frozen over and it took hard grafting to get to the water beneath. It seemed barbaric that humans had to go back to their caveman ways, living in the few holes in hillsides and the crevices of the seaside. Fires were only lit inside for two hours a night because the zombies would easily catch on and other people would try to fight them for the shelter.
Fire seemed to be the zombies weakness, but it often just melted their frosted layers and revealed their old rotting flesh. Either way, the fire didn't damage the brain unless thrusted into the skull.
It was apparent that this new age had changed many innocents. People who were once breakable by a single word, now stood tall and valiant. Some were reflected from their innocence and turned towards the evil embedded inside of them. The scared ones continued to soldier on for a reason beyond their knowledge. The ones that had been fierce with confidence and beauty, were now withered down into a sheltered being. It was sad to watch those who had suffered when the world was right, take hit after hit from sadistic people and somehow end up on the other side, only to take them blows again.