Chapter One: The Collapse
The theory of evolution states the survival of the fittest. That therein itself meant that I should have died long ago. Logic, and being able to think on your feet were a necessity in this new world, and so many had already died… It was almost like a plague, festering and feeding on the people, and the few who survived were left to wander the madness and decay. Zombies. It sounds utterly ridiculous. The rest of the population thought so, too, and, well… Quarantine was almost impossible, the symptoms undetectable except for the bite. Once faced with the facts, the general population couldn't deny the fact that we were being plagued. There were riots. People panicked, and scientists dropped everything to find a cure.
The day that the president was bitten is currently undetermined, but once he fell, the entire population collapsed into panic. People desperately tried to book flights, but foreign countries didn't want us to contaminate their citizens. Boats overseas were the second option; after all, zombies couldn't possibly survive against the waves, right? Once again, there was no way to tell who had been bitten in the pandemonium. Security was horrible, and spots on ships were awarded the highest bidder. Horror stories that were unfortunately a reality were passed around. Stories of ships that were contaminated, and turned into zombie's playhouses. Stories of the apocalypse.
Food was rationed on trucks that ran through the neighborhood; shops were closed down, and under the table dealings were the norm. Society was caving in on itself, and drastic measures were inevitable. People suspected of the illness were killed by their neighbors in a desperate attempt to stamp out the disease. There were rebellions; and although the military gave us food, it was always the bare minimum. Bodies littered the streets, nicknamed "zombie bait." People simply couldn't keep up with the influx of corpses.
In some ways the dead were considered the lucky ones; immune from the mourning, the zombies, and the hunger. Suicide rates skyrocketed, and health plummeted. Hospitals were unreachable and useless once materials were depleted and the power lines were cut. "Doctors" made house calls for ridiculous prices. Medical licenses meant nothing in this new world; laws were invalid with no strong law enforcement. The black market expanded and grew.
It was inevitable that society would crumble, collapsing in upon itself in a horrifyingly morbid fashion. Immunity to the bite was rare, and those who possessed it quickly learned to keep quiet. Scientists would cart them off, looking for the odd characteristics that separated those select few from the zombies. Being immune to the bite was one thing; you could survive with a few battle scars and flesh wounds. This didn't stop you from being eaten alive.
The zombies were a peculiar race, nothing quite like what anyone expected. Their origins are unknown, along with how they function, and their unquenchable hunger for muscle and skin. They were not alive, but obviously not dead. They flocked in small groups and seemed to be incapable of communication. Mobs of zombies were less common than the nomads. Their skin was pallid, stained with open wounds and rotting flesh. Seemingly incapable of healing, their grotesque limbs and distorted figures haunted everyone.
The population was dropping at an extreme rate. No one would wish children into this world, and those unable to fend for themselves quickly diminished. Towns were deserted, and small communities were born form those who banded together, trying to preserve humanity. Rumors of safe places were spread, but no one truly trusted each other. Sometimes, even your own flesh and blood would sacrifice their own kin so that they could survive.
It's from one of these communities that my story is born: a story of my desperate fight to go unnoticed in a society where paranoia, death, and treason were a part of daily life.
This is a story of survival.