FALLOUT WARS:

Land of the Free, Home of the Brave, Nation of the Dead.

Introduction: Stories From Across the Nation

Part 1: The Beginning of Humanity's End - The Fallout Wars

Part 2: Aftermath of the Apocalypse Re-Animator Virus

Part 3: The Fallout Plague Wars

Part 4: A 200 Year Cryogenic Sleep for the Chosen Few Awakens

Part 5: Fallout 1 Begins

Introduction:

Stories From Across the Nation

An Alternative Fallout World in Which the Dead Roam the Earth During a Centuries Old War That Knows no End.

This story will be about a collection of characters from across the country as they deal with an alternative history of the Fallout World. If you have seen parts of the story before that is because I have put it up on other fiction sites as separate stories under different unfinished story names.

But here those stories are used to give background to a large selection of characters who are fighting to survive global warming, drought, fuel shortages, war, food shortages, viruses, plagues, religious uprisings, the total annexation of the countries Canada, Greenland, Mexico and Central America.

The story begins at the start of January 2077 and follows the following years until about two hundred years have passed with many waiting out the nuclear fallout in cryogenic chambers in underground laboratories, facilities, bunkers, bases, outposts, vaults, arks and cities.

A short story from Alaska and New York

National Network News Channel 59:

Thursday June 4th, 2071, Alaska Today Program

"For the first time in our history the number of people who can claim to be a registered citizen of The United States of America has surpassed the one billion, one hundred million mark, bolstered by extremely high skyrocketing immigration figures from almost every European nation and allied African and Asian nations with a further total of five hundred million estimated illegal immigrants from South and Central America, Africa, the Middle East and Asia. A number that has spread so quickly over the past fifty years that every state, county, mega-metropolis, city, town and village has seen their numbers grow at an astonishing unsustainable rate. America has opened its doors to the world during this time of conflict and many are eager for the security only America can provide in such troubling times as Doomsday approaches.

"On Alaska Today we look at the flow of people into the unrecognizable far northern state from across much of the country. In 2020 the number of American citizens calling Alaska home was a paltry few of just over 700,000. Over the last 51 years of political turmoil and the ever growing drum beat of future war with China and Russia and their allies the population has exploded to just over 257 million registered citizens. With four to six million people making Alaska their home state every year from 2020 to 2071 it is the fastest growing state in the nation.

"From it's humble size of just 51 years ago Anchorage now boasts something of an economic mega-boom era with just over 38 million people calling the city home. Alaska is now the state that never sleeps. But only the wealthy will find a welcome here as illegal immigrants are turned away in their tens of millions and many see the state as the last true bastion of patriotic right wing nationalism where only those who fit in with the present and growing population will find any kind of place to call home. Alaska is a fortress state for the wealthy and the people who live there want everyone to know it.

"What is this sudden influx of people attributed to, you may ask. The main reasons for moving to the far northern state were given as escaping the extreme temperatures plaguing the rest of the country. For a safer life away from the truly massive metropolis mega cities down south where crime and overpopulation are driving many into the less populated rural states. Other reasons given included escaping the choking pollution of many urban cities.

"The rampant crime rate spreading across many states as people flock to the country and its urban zones already overpopulated from the wastelands of Mexico and nations further south scorching in the blistering heat. It is noted that few will find little respite as temperatures across the globe sore to new extremes.

"Many see a move to Alaska, Canada or Greenland as a new start away from the problems of the rest of the country. One particular area of economic growth is in the astonishing rise of very wealthy southerners wishing to purchase properties and along with those properties 'Doomsday Bunkers' for what many see as the inevitable nuclear war that seems to be getting ever closer as relationships sour with both enemies and allies alike.

"As the national military budget for the armed forces now exceeds 10.8 trillion dollars, new Army Groups are being created almost on a monthly basis. The newly formed 97th -107th Army Groups with a combined force of some 5,850,000 or more full time professional combat ready troops prepares to defend Alaska during wartime, these forces are backed by a further 17 million national guardsmen. All branches of the military have found a home in Alaska with multiple bases for each branch.

"As the state becomes ever more militarized due to the expectation of likely invasion, trillions of dollars are poured into strengthening the state. With the current national total of 59 million enlisted full time troops and a further 128 million national guards troops being surpassed almost monthly there is no end in sight to the crippling cost of maintaining such forces. But the consequences of not preparing for war are indeed unthinkable. Foreign powers on American land, Nazi like dictators ruling over our country. It seems impossible to most free living Americans that another country could ever rule over us but that is the challenge we face in the late twenty first century.

"Among those people willing to spend their life savings on prepping for 'Doomsday' are the notorious survivalist biker gang known as 'The Infernal Infidels of Alaska'. Said to boast over a hundred and ten thousand members mostly from ex service veterans and former law enforcers. The gang look to their wealthy president and club founder Eugene Montgomery Scott.

"Thought to be worth over five hundred and eighty billion dollars from a fortune that is attributed to his numerous defence contracts and mercenary for hire organizations. Mr Scott has been active in building a network of underground mega-bunkers for his fellow club members all across the state and beyond.

"Today we have the privilege of taking a look inside one of those bunkers at an undisclosed location in the mountains. First of all the bunker lies some 1500 meters below the surface surrounded by a 250 meter thick protective barrier of concrete and steel. It is reached by a series of lifts and vehicle lifts that take the occupants to the entrance which is a set of 10 interlocking blast doors each 5 meters thick.

"Inside we are told there are 10 or more accommodation and living sectors built side by side and each one has 5 or more levels. Each sector is home to approximately one hundred people with 20 living on a level for a total of around one thousand people per bunker. The rest of the bunker is split into different areas such as shower blocks, dining rooms, kitchens, social meeting areas, a well stocked armoury and shooting range, gyms, sports arena medical centre, pharmacy, command centre, security and surveillance, maintenance workshops, engineering and tech labs.

"Of most importance are numerous warehouse size storerooms with up to two hundred and twenty years of supplies each. For long lasting occupation a vast area of the bunker has been given over to hydroponics for sustainable food production. This is a truly wondrous sight and can keep the whole bunker fed when running at full capacity. In an armoured shell like surface area of the bunker there is room for over a thousand stored vehicles. The whole bunker is protected by military grade security measures and trespassing on the site would be extremely dangerous.

"Keeping the bunker running are a working team of five thousand or more professional staff, a two thousand strong armed security force and a Vault Council of 100 members. These include maintenance, engineers, technicians, scientists, security, culinary, botanists, doctors, nurses, teachers, electricians, plumbers, labourers and many other professions needed to keep over a thousand people in reasonable comfort for a possible long period of time. Lastly the whole place is powered by nuclear generators with back up generators when needed. This area was strictly off limits for security reasons but we are told it is housed in a different sector of the bunker reached only by underground tube train.

"For those with an interest in something similar contact E.M.S. Global Industries on the number below where a bunker of similar proportions will cost around ten billion or more dollars. But size isn't everything. For the more humble bunker built in the mountains to house up to a hundred people the costs range from 50 million to 500 million or more dollars. For the bare bones backyard bunkers to house a family of five the cost is around a more affordable 1,500,000 dollars.

"The backyard variety is the perfect family location to wait out the holocaust. Built 100 meters below the surface with a living area, 10 meter thick radiation resistant walls, shower room, bedrooms, storage, several generator rooms and fuel storage area, maintenance room, water storage/treatment/purification, small armory, small storehouse for up to five years of supplies for five people and any pets you may take with you. At extra cost the bunker can house several lower levels for extended family or friends along with more rooms and greater storage area. The surface area of your house can have an area to store vehicles and possessions. With 5 meter thick walls , blast doors and added security measures your property has never been in safer hands than with E.M.S. Global Security Industries."

"Jeremiah, are you watching this? There's something on the other channel I want to see." Rosa questioned her husband of thirty five years as he looked on with growing interest.

"I think I'm going to give them a call." Jeremiah answered while listening to the news channel.

"What, whatever for?" Rosa asked irritably.

"E.M.S. I think we need one of those bunkers. It will give me something to occupy my time when I retire. And it will be great for the family."

"It's a nuclear bunker, Jeremiah. Not a summer cabin."

"I've been thinking about it for a long time. We need to be sure and those commie bastards are always threatening to attack the country these days."

"You're going to waste your retirement money on a hole in the ground. This is not funny, Jeremiah."

"I'm serious. What else am I going to spend it on. One of the top range family bunkers in the mountains will cost around a hundred million dollars. I've not spent any of the money I inherited from grandpa and dad when they died. I've got over five hundred and twenty five million just sitting there in the bank doing nothing. If war breaks out and it definitely will soon. Then we need to have somewhere safe. Besides a move up north is just what we need. I hear Alaska is just a wonderful place to live these days. Away from all the overcrowding, crime, pollution and it would be great to take the family."

"What's wrong with New York, Jeremiah. We've lived here all our lives. I don't want to move to Alaska."

"My Dear Rosa. This city has become a crap hole. Too many people, not enough space for over hundred million people. Just think of the fresh air and the wilderness. I'm doing it. The more I think about it the more I want to go. I'm fifty three, I've got two more years at the bank and I retire with a massive pay off. What am I going to do with the rest of my time. I might have another thirty or forty years to go. Looking at this dreary polluted hell hole waiting to be stabbed or mugged or worse. Surely you can see it will be a good thing, Rosa."

"I don't know. What will we say to the kids?"

"I want them to come with us. We will buy a big family sized mansion with plenty of land and perhaps a farm and ranch. Then we can have a bunker built on our land. You know it makes sense. Just think about it, Rosa. You would love to have the family around us all the time and it would be a good place for Jack to get over going to that damned crap hole Afghanistan. He needs it and we can provide it. Especially now they have a family of their own. What do you say, Grandma?"

"Don't call me that. It makes me feel old."

"That's what your grandchildren call you isn't it?"

"If we take Jack, Lucianna, and the kids, we'll have to invite Erica and John and their kids. And what about Ryan he's just joined the Army. Melissa is still at university. They won't all be able to come with us will they? And my mom and dad and your mom they won't want to move."

"We'll find a way to make it work. Does this mean you will at least think about it, Rosa?"

"Only if they all agree to come with us."

"I will give them a call then and get some details."

Jeremiah Rosewood and Rosa Rosewood (Rosa Vega) Family

Frank 72 – Deceased (Jeremiah 53)

Eve 70

Edward 75 (Rosa 53, Ellen 48, Jen 40)

Hannah 71

Jeremiah 53 (Jack 35, Erica 30, Ryan 22, Melissa 18)

Rosa 53

Ellen 48 (Adopted – James 16, Eliza 15, Claire 14, Zach 12)

Nova 35

Jen 40 (Lizzie 12, Greg 10, Lee 5, Neve 3)

Harry 41

Jack 35 (Laura 16, Daniel 16, Emma 14, Jacob 10)

Luciana 33

Erica 30 (Joseph 11, Francesca 10, Emily 8, James 5)

John 31

Ryan 22 (Dean 3, Scott 3, Alicia 1)

Willow 22

Melissa 18

Jessica Rodriguez 19 Melissa's best friend - no other family

Shania Rodriguez 16 Jess's Sister - no other family

Johnny Rodriguez 16 Jess's Brother - no other family

A short story from New York

2076 New Years Eve,

December 31st, New York City

"Go on Mickey, hammer the fucking bastard, kick him in the head." Steve shouted from the crowd that had surrounded the homeless beggar.

Mickey was smiling and felt a little nervous. His elder brother Steve was shouting encouragement from the crowd of about forty young men, all out for a good old night out. Mickey felt the drugs in his system go straight to his head. He was seeing all kinds of weird shit ever since he'd taken it. This stuff was strong, unlike anything he'd ever felt before. If truth be told he only took it to impress his brother and his girlfriend who was now watching him beat the life out of some poor helpless filthy old man.

The beggar, Noah Nelson was his name. He raised his freezing hands to ward off the blows. He panicked as he saw his blood pooling in the snow all around him. He begged and pleaded to be left alone. His terrible plight was bad enough without these young hooligans giving him a hard time. He felt the blood pouring out of his mouth and broken nose. His two front teeth lay on the pavement covered in his blood.

Was this anyway to celebrate his 70th birthday. He'd lost his home five years ago and run away from the nursing home they had tried to put him in. He had been on the streets for the last five years and didn't mind taking charity when it was offered. He even had friends among the homeless community of New York City. But he was on his own now, alone with people who seemed like they wanted to kill him.

The crowd were shouting for blood, giving encouragement to the young thug as his punches and kicks connected with Noah. Noah had been feeling ill all day, ever since that bomb had gone off earlier that day. He had heard that many people were killed and injured and other homeless folks had told him that the police had cordoned off the area and the mention of something called a dirty bomb was going around.

They had said that people in protective hazmat suits were in the area, though he didn't know the details and had dismissed it it as rubbish. The bomb blast hadn't been enough to catch him as he was too far away but whatever had been in that bomb had spread throughout the area infecting everyone in close proximity with a deadly strain of bio engineered virus straight out of a chemists lab in the middle east.

What Noah hadn't heard was that around the world, there were fifty two more bombings, all timed to go off simultaneously in the world's busiest and largest cities. All were crafted in the middle east and all were capable of spreading a deadly new virus. If Noah had stayed around long enough to be treated he would have been quarantined along with the thousand or more other people who survived the blast.

But Noah had quickly and stealthily disappeared into the backstreets of New York where he had suffered the effects of what was now being called the Apocalypse Re-Animator Virus by its creators and in TV broadcasts from the Middle East claiming responsibility for the atrocities.

If Mickey and his brother had paid attention to the news that night they would have seen that parts of New York were in lockdown. They would have also been aware of the warning from the government that if anyone was seen with a bleeding nose, mouth and eyes, and what appears to be rotting, flaking skin. Along with the fact that a victim is likely to have soiled themselves multiple times. Along with a whole list of other symptoms. Then they would have stayed away from this part of the city and found somewhere else to drink and celebrate new year.

But the brothers were the typical carefree youth of today and didn't give a crap about watching the news. Otherwise they wouldn't be battering a virus carrier with their bare fists, exposing themselves to the virus he now carried. Along with everyone else there who just couldn't resist taking a shot at the stinking vagrant with the flu, or so they thought it was the common flu.

Just as the clocks struck midnight, a strange thing happened. Noah passed away from the beating he had taken and the combined effects of the virus. The crowd went silent and some began to panic as the realization of what they had done set in.

Within moments Noah had awoken, his eyes had rolled back into his head and showed bloodshot white. He clawed at the floor trying to stand and the stink of him was only too apparent to those around him. Whether it be rotting flesh or from fouling himself, they couldn't tell but everyone present knew something was very wrong with him. Mickey too slow to move found Noah had latched onto his ankle and was taking a large bite out of his flesh.

Mickey Carlton screamed at the top of his voice. The drugs didn't help him at all as he saw ravenous monsters gnawing on his flesh and bones. But this wasn't a bad trip this was very real. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled a six inch blade out and immediately began stabbing the beggar in the back and neck.

Laura Stevenson, Mickey's long time girlfriend since they were in junior school screamed at the others to help him.

Steve pulled a twelve inch long iron bar from inside his coat and began smashing it into the side of Noah's head.

Noah felt almost nothing except heightened senses and an uncontrollable urge to feed. He bit down hard on the prey's ankle and feasted. It was the best meal he had had in days. Despite the damage inflicted on him he carried on and took a chunk out of his prey's thigh. Then with incredible strength that he had never had in life he pulled the young man onto the floor and bit into his flesh, tearing at his neck and face.

Steve was screaming at his friends to help him get the disgusting thing off his brother.

National Network News Channel 59:

March 1st 2077, Alaska Today Program

"The Re-Animator Virus continues it's merciless invasion of every corner of the globe. Virtually all international flights have been suspended until further notice for fear of spreading it's relentless onslaught into major urbanized cities from other countries. All cities are under 24 hour a day quarantine and lockdown as the newly formed Army Groups are deployed on home soil to tackle the rise of re-animated corpses plaguing our nation as the virus enters its third month of deployment. The weaponized virus has spread at an alarming rate after being deployed in cities across the world by the billionaire funded Doomsday cult known as the Sons of the Apocalypse originating here in the United States of America.

The cult has a following of hundreds of millions across The Americas, Asia, Africa, The Middle East, and Russia. As tensions rise among the superpowers and the ideology of the cult is to bring forward the inevitable nuclear conflict to cleanse the Earth of all non believers and usher in a new age of enlightenment. To do this their multi billionaire founding fathers, created in secret labs a virus that would bring the dead back to life and infect those who do not share their faith. While the founding fathers built vast underground bunkers and vaults across the world to house their followers during the end times the rest of the world would destroy itself as the sickness took hold of vulnerable unsuspecting people and chaos engulfed every nation.

Since 2020 the world has been on a collision course as international alliances broke down and nationalism and patriotism took hold of many nations. Military budgets increased ten fold or more as tensions rose and nations were forced to deal with uprisings, riots, civil wars and revolutions. Many nations bankrupted themselves trying to fight the rise of conflicting ideologies among their own people and growing threats from once allied neighbours.

As the world holds its breath for the inevitable nuclear exchange they tackle the virus that destroys everything it touches. With a ninety percent infection rate and its ability to spread by contact with carriers through open wounds where the virus has got into the blood stream, hospitals across the country are filling up with the dying. To slow the spread of the virus people are being killed mercifully by military and police forces stretched to breaking point even despite their vastly increased numbers from just a decade ago. This is done by removing the head or a shot to the brain. Reports of cannibalistic infected and risen corpses feeding on the living is being downplayed by numerous governments as they try to contain the growing panic among their people.

National Network News Channel 59:

Thursday June 24h, 2077, Alaska Today Program

"What does a self styled spoilt brat and an only child with no living relatives do with an inherited fortune of more than five hundred and fifty five billion dollars? His choices were seemingly almost endless but he had only one thought on his mind. To prepare for the end of the world. For years he had lived as part of the Free American Patriots and Survivors of the Coming End Times. A large and quickly growing group of doomsday preppers, survivalists. And all of them were ex military, police, security experts, mercenaries and special ops with a shared goal of mutual survival in the event of what would likely be either a nuclear war or a virus that spreads around the world killing all in its path.

"Along with their families they numbered well over eighty five thousand combat ready men and women and approximately a hundred and seventy five thousand children under eighteen and older folk over seventy all of them family members. They had been preparing since the early days of the nineteen eighties for the eventual end of the world in whatever form that might take. This took the form of preparing heavily defended compounds and nuclear shelters deep beneath the earth.

"Their whole life savings went into these preparations and when in 2069 at the age of twenty one. Jack Kerrigan lost his only surviving relative. His doting billionaire grandfather who had funded much of the preparations along with a large group of wealthy like minded prepper millionaires and billionaires. With his grandfather's death he found himself the CEO of many large oil, diamond and gold mining and exporting companies and with considerable shares in several tech and weapons manufacturing corporations.

"His grandfather's close friends and business partners urged Jack to use the money wisely and combine his wealth with their own and prepare for what looked like a certainty would soon become World War 3. Over the following eight years until 2076 all the heavily defended compounds that had been built in every single one of the States were further fortified and prepared for large underground shelters that could hold up to five thousand people each quite comfortably. Each shelter came with a large gym, firing range, extensively well stocked armoury, doctors clinic and surgery, entertainment facilities, cinema, library, hydroponics farms, animal farms, bath and shower rooms, dining room and canteen, nursery, medical wards, various offices for those with positions of authority, holding cells, science and chemical labs, waste disposal system, air filtration system, mechanics workshop, large garage full of armoured vehicles of various sorts, underground aircraft hangar and fuel depot, control centre hub from which the entire facility was run and able to keep in touch with the other states.

"The storerooms were each as big as football fields stocked with an endless list of supplies and provisions, weapons, ammunition, food, everyday essentials and medical supplies to last for up to 250 years. Tools and clothes and all other manner of things that would be needed for a prolonged period underground. Every shelter was fitted with running water and numerous massive water tanks and electricity and power generators with contingency plans in place for backups should anything break down. Two thousand metres under the surface the families of the preppers settled into their new homes with all the comfort the trillions of dollars spent on the shelters could buy them.

"As well as the shelters and large compounds there were a number of smaller outposts that would be manned by those who were part of the preppers group but were unmarried without children or other family or who wished to live separate from the larger communities. The number of outposts per state depended on the size of the state with some states having as few as twenty five outposts and larger states having as many as a hundred and twenty or more.

"These outposts were only designed to last the occupants for at most ten years and their supplies reflected this. They were designed for twenty five to sixty occupants each. All knew their job would be to gather information on the outside world should anything still exist. This would involve taking their squads and travelling across the state to look for other survivor groups and find out if they were hostile or not. As well as gathering what supplies they could find to take back with them. They would also have to find out if the surface was habitable as there was no way of knowing what still remained.

2077 New Years Day, January 1st,

Day 175 of the Apocalypse Re-Animator Plague

Recent world events had pushed the various sides to the brink of world war 3. The crowd gathered around the large wall screen TV looking on in shock as the first of the missiles hit their targets throughout the middle east and Asia. Satellite photos showed the scale of the devastation and the complete annihilation of those cities that were hit. It was the last act of a dying nation, retaliation for the weaponized virus that had spread the Apocalypse Re -Animator Plague across America and Europe. It was too late to save the hundreds of millions who had fallen victim to the plague.

All they could do was wipe out their enemies and wait for the plague to burn itself out. If that was even possible. The initial shock was replaced with cheers at seeing hundreds of millions of people slaughtered for simply being of a different faith or nationality. But among this crowd the end of the world had come just as they all thought it would. For the Free American Patriots and Survivors of the Coming End Times Group this was just payment for what those 'Bastard middle eastern savages had done to America'.

Jack held on tight to his half drunken bottle of Jack Daniels and then pressed the bottle to his mouth and turned it upside down letting the liquid flow into his mouth until he could drink no more. Jack Kerrigan at the young age of twenty eight was responsible for the Alaskan branch of the group and commander of the 'Free People' who made their homes two thousand metres below the surface . Their headquarters was the command centre for the whole group, approx 255,000 men, women and children spread throughout the states in near identical underground nuclear shelters. They represented a tiny fragment of what remained of civilization on the American continent. It was thought that only the government, the military and certain powerful corporations, wealthy individuals and like minded survivalist groups had survived the worst of the plague.

When the plague hit the large urban areas of the largest cities in America, the Armed Forces were used only sparingly. Relying mostly on local police forces and the national guard to control the outbreak and those infected. The civilian population were left to fend for themselves. All military units were ordered to return from overseas operations and return to their respective bases to await further orders. Sixty years earlier, the government fearing such an attack had in 2017 began building its own facilities for the government and military to take shelter if it ever occurred.

Many trillions of dollars went into the preparation, all military and their immediate families would be given a place in the shelters. But unlike the comfort of the preppers group they had to stretch the cost over several hundred million people and there was no room for luxuries just basic facilities that would keep them alive and safe for at most twenty five years. Those who had no connection to the government or military were left with nowhere to go to get away from the ravages of the plague.

Within two months the whole of America had been affected and the cities became ruined wastelands as the last of those on the surface fought to survive. Before the plague America had a population of approx 1.64 billion there was no accurate account of all those that died due to the plague and those that still lived.

Several hundred million were sheltered in government and military facilities. A further few hundred thousand civilians mostly the very wealthiest who could afford to build elaborate shelters and fortified facilities managed to avoid the worst of the plague. Perhaps fifty percent of the population remains on the surface defending themselves and eking out a terrible existence as food and water become scarce.

The Alaskan branch of the Free American Patriots and Survivors of the Coming End Times Group was the largest with five thousand nine hundred and sixty five combat trained and ready men and women, along with nine thousand, five hundred and eighty nine family members and non combatants. The underground shelter was more than four times larger than any of the other states shelters and was thought to have enough supplies to last thirty years. It was designed to hold a maximum of twenty thousand people.

The combat units of the Alaskan Hub were one hundred platoons of fifty men and women, operating in five squads of ten. The other nine hundred and sixty five were special forces trained and operated either alone or in teams of up to twelve. There were a further five hundred or more receiving training in various forms of combat, most were under twenty one and considered non combatants until they became adults. The rest of the population either had specific jobs throughout the shelter or looked after family members who were too old, young or ill to look after themselves.

Spread throughout Alaska were the group's underground outposts. There were a hundred and twenty five in total within the boundaries of the Alaskan state. Each facility held thirty six armed and trained men and women who had volunteered to man the outpost until their supplies ran out in approx twenty five years time. Alongside them were a outpost commander, doctor, nurses, dentist, chemist, quartermaster, communications expert, mechanic, electrician, computer technician, security chief, cook, plumber, science officer, several general labourers for a total of sixty or more per outpost. And a total of up to five hundred family members.

The combat teams in each outpost were six six-man fire teams each with three riflemen, a sniper, medic and unit commander, usually someone who had a military background as an NCO or officer. All the outposts were fully capable of contacting every other outpost and command shelter throughout the country. Helped by a very expensive satellite that the group's wealthy backers had put into orbit.

While Jack Kerrigan was the informal leader of the Alaskan Hub, the real leader was retired and heavily decorated marine general Maxwell Carrington. A man of some sixty six years who looked more like he was in his forties. He was the brother of the billionaire property tycoon Jordana Carrington, said to be one of the wealthiest women in America with a fortune of over six hundred and thirty billion dollars. Her money had bought her and her family a luxury section of the shelter all to themselves. But neither of them were above the other inhabitants and regularly socialised with the other people in the shelter.

Though they had been in the shelters for over a year they considered this as Day 1 of the end of civilization. 175 days after the first virus bombs had struck the American cities the government had finally responded with nukes.

June 1st 2077, Day 175,

Anchorage, Alaska

Blake listened to the static of the local radio station. They had stopped broadcasting twenty five days ago on Day 150 of the Plague. The ex marine and mercenary had been inside his basement bunker for all the 175 days the plague had been sweeping across America. His food and water stocks in his small storehouse and freezer were almost depleted. He reckoned he had perhaps just over a weeks worth of food left and perhaps four days of water. The time had come to leave the shelter and go out in search of supplies.

He could make regular trips to the local stores to see if they had already been looted or were still well stocked. The truth was that he had no idea how bad the situation outside the bunker had become. He had not seen up close what the virus could do to a person who became infected. He had watched the news and listened to the radio but that only gave a spectators impression of the devastation. He had no idea if anything still lived outside, perhaps everyone who hadn't made it into a bunker or shelter was now either dead or one of the walking dead. That's what it had said on the news. 'The walking dead', it seemed impossible and more like a cheap film than reality but that was the situation he faced once he left the bunker.

Anchorage had been one of the last places to fall being far from the initial bomb blasts in New York and Washington DC. It took two months for the infected to spread to the state and in that time the stores were looted as riots took hold and the people of Anchorage prepared for the worst. The national guard and emergency services as well as local business volunteers prepared elaborate defences to keep the spread out of the state and city but that was before the second round of bombs went off.

The city suffered five bomb blasts all containing the virus. It spread like wildfire through every area of the city. The national guard abandoned their posts and fled to what were supposedly still safe zones in the rest of the state. But in truth there were few places that were still safe. The last organized resistance took place just over two weeks ago when the so called safe zones were finally overrun with the walking dead. Only individuals and small groups survived the onslaught.

He turned the radio off. There was no point in wasting power with so little fuel left for the generator. He wondered how his closest friend Jack Kerrigan was doing inside his underground bunker and the rest of the prepper group that Blake was supposedly still a part of. Jack had almost pleaded with him to take shelter in the bunker with the others. But Blake had insisted he try to sort out his marriage first and that meant staying at home with Erica who flatly refused to have anything to do with those 'Psycho Preppers', as she had taken to calling them.

The last he had heard from her was on Day 1 of the Apocalypse Plague. She had argued with him like a mad woman a week earlier than the first bombs went off because of the rising tension in the middle east and all the talk of nuclear war. She had insisted on visiting her parents in New York with the kids Sara and Michael. They were sixteen year old twins and the proudest thing Blake had ever done according to him. But they went with their mother to visit her parents and that was the last he ever saw of them.

As he had listened to the news on that first day and realised New York had seen the first bombs detonate. He could never have imagined how events would spiral out of control and take his family from him. Now he was alone. It was thirty miles to the nearest of the preppers outposts and a hundred miles to the Alaskan Hub Shelter where Jack and the others were located. He had heard all the roads were blocked into the city as people had tried to flee. It was likely he could travel on foot but there was no guarantee that they would allow him to enter the underground shelter.

They would probably be wary of letting anyone in who could have been exposed to the virus for fear of spreading it throughout the shelters and outposts. He really was alone and despite all the times during his military career when he had been on active duty in whatever combat zone he was operating inside of. He had never felt as alone as he had since the plague had begun to spread and he had retreated inside his basement bunker.

Like all the other preppers of his group he had for over a decade been preparing for such an event. But no one expected this. How do the dead come back to life if indeed that is what they did. He had a good stock of weapons and ammunition as well as clothing for all seasons.

Blake prepared himself for his first encounter with the walking dead. He had no idea what to expect. He took a scoped and silenced assault rifle and six spare magazines. A .44 silenced pistol and five spare magazines. The combat knife he placed in a leather knife sheath. It was a 30th birthday present from Jack. He took a map of the local area and a red permanent marker to show were he had looted. A powerful flashlight. A crowbar and wire cutters. He placed the pistol in a holster and slung the rifle over his shoulder.

He really hoped he wouldn't need them as things were really messed up if he had to use the six fragtmentation grenades he placed in his ammo bag. He took a medium sized empty backpack for carrying anything he might find and a large empty sports bag which he slung over his shoulder.

It was eight am. He had heard on the news that the walking dead were more active at night. He would try to get back before darkness fell. He checked the computer monitor for signs of activity on the house's security system. All cameras showed the place was still intact and no one had managed to break in. If he didn't find fuel for the generator then the security system would soon be no use. He took his Humvee keys and placed them inside his jacket pocket with the house keys.

He keyed in the door code and the reinforced steel door slid back and allowed him to leave the place that had kept him safe for the last six months. The house was as he had left it. The signs of Erica and the kids were everywhere he looked. Like they had been frozen in time since they had left for New York. He fought back tears knowing they were now dead or had become one the walking dead. He tried to avoid looking at their photographs that were framed all over the walls of the house. He failed miserably and almost changed his mind about going out with this on his mind. He knew it would make him careless. It was a distraction he could have well done without.

He stopped at a picture of the family and ran his fingers over the glass frame. He simply whispered to himself 'I'm sorry I wasn't there for you. I miss you all." He walked away trying to put it out of his mind and readied himself for what he was about to do.

He keyed in the code and used his keys to open the door. The alarm stayed silent. Who would answer an house alarm now anyway. There was no emergency services left. The house was a mile from the nearest part of the city. It stood out alone on cleared ground and was surrounded by a ten foot high electrified fence and an inner wall. He had had to turn the electricity off that powered the fence to save power but it still would prove to be an obstacle to any of the walking dead. Less so for humans who wanted to break in. He went to the garage and drove the Humvee out onto the driveway. He placed his bags and equipment in the front passenger seat and ten empty fuel cans and a syphoning hose in the back.

The Humvee pulled out of the driveway past the security gate that slid back into place. It was a hundred meters drive down the road before he joined the highway. Immediately he saw the problem those trying to escape encountered when they packed the roads full of traffic. The road out of Anchorage was impassable. The road into the city was virtually empty and nothing moved.

Within minutes he began noticing the corpses on the road, most were mutilated beyond recognition. He assumed those dead that had got back up had moved away by now to find fresh food as only dismembered rotting maggot filled carcasses remained. At least it looked that way from a first inspection. But who knew what really awaited him. He pulled the Humvee over beside several vehicles and climbed out of the vehicle. He scanned the area for signs of movement and life but as far as he could see there was none. He took two fuel cans from the back of the vehicle and went along the line of abandoned vehicles syphoning off as much as the fuel cans would hold. He did this until all ten of the fuel cans were full and placed them back in the Humvee.

He then went from vehicle to vehicle emptying them of anything of use. He found several small calibre pistols and a few magazines to go with them. They didn't have much stopping power but were usable in a desperate situation so he placed them in the back with everything else he found. By the time he had done he had seventeen cans of various foods and twenty two unopened bottles of water. Fifteen cans of various sodas and twelve bars of chocolate. He placed them all in the back of the Humvee and wondered why he hadn't found more. But these vehicles he thought to himself had likely already been looted and they had just left whatever they didn't find or couldn't carry. He hoped for a better find a half mile down the road at the local garage and fuel station but already he was having his doubts. That would have been the first place that would have been looted.

He got back in the vehicle and drove down the road at a steady thirty miles per hour looking for signs of life. He saw none. He thought about checking the cars further down the Highway but decided to look for more fruitful pickings as they were undoubtedly all looted.

He arrived at the garage and fuel station and immediately saw the horror of what had occurred there. Military vehicles were formed up in a defensive position. An uncountable number of corpses littered the floor, the blood stained ground various shades of red from all the blood that had been spilled. Then he saw them the first time he had seen one up close. It was not an impressive sight. What was left of the crawling dead had no limbs and very little meat left on its body but its mouth was moving as if to bite whatever came within biting distance. There were others in various stages of dismemberment. The whole place seemed like a scene straight out of some horror film. Blake was not easily scared but this unnerved him. He spent so long staring at the dead bodies that he was scared back into action as a bloody hand banged on the drivers side window. He looked to his side and saw one of them in all its gruesome detail but this one had all its limbs and was very much capable of moving and biting.

He didn't have to think about it he simply slammed his foot down on the pedal and drove away at top speed just as a horde of thirty or more walking corpses came stumbling towards him from inside the garage. He shouted to himself 'Fucking shit, shit, shit. That was too damn close for comfort got to get with it or I'm going to die out here."

July 2077 California

When the so called Apocalypse finally occurred it was hardly a surprise to anyone. We had years of warning. Years of war and years of threats and counter threats. In the end we had expected nuclear missiles to rain down death and destruction on us from our numerous enemies. We had spent the last hundred years preparing for such a day.

Trillions of dollars were spent ensuring we were ready for whatever came our way. From the hundreds of thousands of neighbourhood bomb shelters that sprang up in every city, town and village community to the stockpiling of arms and ammunition in armouries across the country. From the massive stockpiling of food, water and fuel mountains to the impressive array of defensive satellite missile and laser batteries that protected every inch of American and Allied territory.

The Nuclear Disaster Distribution Centres were to be the first place many would go for their basic needs. They would supply everything from blankets and tents, to cooking utensils and portable power generators and thousands of other everyday items that could be needed in the event of nuclear war.

Nothing was left to chance. Even the president and the rest of the government had been conducting the running of the country from a secret underground base. Along with their extended families and a full division of special forces trained troops. The nation's best and brightest teachers, scientists, technicians and engineers, professors and high ranking military leaders along with their extended families were placed in secret underground facilities from where they could work and live as normal a life as possible.

Whole extra army groups of the military trained and recruited outside the normal chain of command as specialist soldiers equipped to deal with a nuclear war were housed in underground bunkers ready for the inevitable invasion once the nukes fell. Each state would have at least one such division based on it's territory to halt the advance of any foreign enemies. These troops lived in their underground bases for prolonged periods with no contact with the outside world other than news and the usual methods of communication. But no one from outside ever entered these mysterious bases that had cost so much to build and occupy.

We thought we had done everything to ensure our survival as a nation. But we could never have predicted what would happen next. Like the scene from some late night Horror Film the first reports of unexplained deaths came in over the news networks. It seemed as though hundreds, perhaps thousands of immigrants, mostly from Muslim nations were dropping dead without any explanation. Fairly soon it seemed as though the hospitals and morgues of every city in America was full of these unexplained deaths. Then just like the films. Or at least that's how it seemed to us. The dead didn't stay dead. And now whatever was killing off these immigrants, was starting to spread to anyone they came into contact with.

All across the world, the reports were the same. America and its allies were suffering from some great outbreak. Within weeks the military had quarantined just about every city in America. The withdrawal of troops from around the world's battlefields began soon after as the troops were needed at home. After several more weeks it was determined that the outbreak was a man made virus. By this time the cities were in a state of panic and the rule of the gun had taken over as the military struggled to keep order and prevent the further spread of the virus.

Two and a half months after the first cases was reported America fired its nuclear missiles at every Muslim nation on the planet. All the initial dead had one thing in common, they had all travelled from Muslim nations to the USA within the last ten years and all had acted as carriers of the virus until the Doomsday trigger was activated. They were all willing martyrs in the fight against what they saw as the Great Satan. The initial casualties from around the world numbered in the hundreds of millions from the nuclear blasts alone. Hundreds of millions more would likely die from radiation sickness. The world responded with barely a murmur as it fought it's own battle to contain the spread of the virus.

All across America Muslims were rounded up and placed in hastily built internment camps. Those who remained were often hung or shot as the rule of law began to slip away. The cities were now battle grounds where the dead hunted the living. The army for the most part stood back and let it happen. It was decided early on that the military needed to be kept intact for fear of invasion if they were seen as too weak to defend themselves.

A month into the crisis and tens of millions had died and risen. The thousands of shelters that had been prepared for protection from nuclear fallout were being used to house the uninfected. News reports stated that sixty percent of people that came into contact with the virus would die within three days and rise between an hour and a day later. A further twenty percent were undergoing strange and horrific mutations as a result of being bitten and infected. It was thought that around twenty percent were immune to the virus but were themselves carriers who could also turn if killed. Less than one percent were thought to be completely immune and had the antibodies in their blood to ensure they were not carriers of the virus. These few million people were in great demand as the authorities sought to engineer a vaccine to stop the virus before it completely wiped out humanity.

Jericho Bay founded in 2020 by billionaire Charles Edmund Jericho the billionaire tech entrepreneur and owner of the multinational tech giant Jericho Cyber Sytems Corporation. The company had only been in existence for the past seventy years but had already made a name for itself worldwide as the new designer, manufacturer and distributor of many new age technologies that were revolutionizing the tech industry.

The city of Jericho Bay, population, 12,899,589 was the new place to be for all those extremely bright and accomplished university graduates who wanted to be a part of the fast growing phenomenon that was Jericho Cyber Systems. Everyone who lived in the millionaires playground of Jericho Bay was somehow connected to Charles Jericho. There were no working class people in the entire city. Everything was run by robots and robotic systems. The average minimum wage was 500,000 dollars a month. The city supplied hundreds of millions with cutting edge technology and brought in money by the trillions.

When the virus swept across America the city closed its doors with the outside world. A vast army of newly designed android, robotic and cyber soldiers protected the city from the flood of refugees wanting to find somewhere safe to get them through the Apocalypse. The hordes of undead were turned back and swiftly annihilated within close proximity to the cities energy shield barriers.

The experimental energy dome shields were used for the first time and proved successful at keeping everything out of the city that was not invited in. The residents of Jericho Bay went about their business and lived their lives almost without noticing the outside world had gone to Hell. As the last safe city on the countries surface the whole of America seemed to want to get inside but there was no welcome sign waiting for anyone trying to get inside the city. Millions had already been turned away. Many were killed by the cities robotic defenders uncaring and without any human morality to get in the way.

July 2077, 18.33 Friday,

Southern California. City of Lost Hope, Population 22,692 living, 284,598 zombies, 35,341 mutants.

Frank Briggs brought the hunting rifle up and peered intently through the scope at the sight across the street. A horde of undead were closing in on three young guys who looked as though they were no older than college students. Each carried a pistol and a backpack that seemed to be overflowing with much needed supplies. They were rushing to an old pickup truck that he could see had two young women in the front seats with the engine revved up and seemed to be shouting desperately for the young men to get back in the truck. The horde numbered over a hundred walking corpses. They were shambling forward and were close to cutting the men off from the truck. There was nothing he could do to help them. At least nothing he was going to risk doing to bring their attention onto himself. The vehicle shot around the edge of the horde and the three men managed just in time to jump into the back of the truck before it sped away down the road and quickly moved out of sight.

The horde were a good three hundred and eighty metres away and seemed to be swarming after the truck with little success. But whatever was in the store the men had just vacated and filled their packs there could be more to loot. He waited for ten minutes until the last of the zombies had disappeared down the road after their next meal.

Frank took a bottle of fresh bottled water and drank down half a pint in several long gulps. He took a half full bag of mints and placed two in his mouth. Immediately the taste was refreshing. When was the last time he had cleaned his teeth. It seemed like a lifetime ago. He let the flavour fill his mouth and crunched down on them with his teeth. He washed the mints down with another sip of water and readied himself for the trip across the street. He slung the rifle over his shoulder and brought out an auto-shotgun.

Checking it was fully loaded he then began moving across the street looking around for anyone or anything that might want to do him harm. Within a minute he was stood in front of three stores. A gun shop called Joe Westwoods Guns and Bullets. It looked like it had been the target of looting several times but its doors and shatter proof glass and metal cage had proved too much for the looters who had probably been in a hurry and disturbed some zombies while trying to get in.

The second store was Rose's Gardens and Groceries which looked as though it had probably been looted early on when the virus first started. But even here he could see several cans of food laying on the floor and the shelves were not fully picked clean.

The third store was Jack Bradley's Outdoor Pursuits. A store that sold everything from tents, sleeping bags, cooking utensils, maps, to outdoor rugged clothing for all weathers. Again the door hung open and the front window had been smashed and the the metal cage ripped open. It looked like something big had caused the damage. Undoubtedly one of the larger mutants that led the zombies around like alpha pack leaders.

He would try the gun store last. It was closed up tight and would be harder to get into. The camping store could wait awhile. He would start with the food store. Frank readied the shotgun and stepped inside. He counted ten aisles with shelves on either side of each aisle. He listened for the sounds he had come to recognize so well. Zombies and mutants all had a series of noises they made quite distinctly. He couldn't hear anything. It was completely silent. He walked down the aisles taking anything that looked like food or something he could drink and placed it in his backpack. The looters had left some things behind in their rush to get out of the place. When he was done he counted forty five cans of various types. Eighteen packets of food such as rice, potato chips, pasta, breakfast cereal and other assorted foods. When the aisles and floors were thoroughly checked he used a lock pick to get into the rear storage area.

His immediate thought was Jackpot. The room had remained untouched. But he wasn't going to manage moving boxes of canned food, bottled water and soda bottles on his own. Another thing he found that would be essential for the long term was hundreds of packets of seeds for growing vegetables and fruit. Also garden supplies and tools. This was a good find that had come not nearly soon enough and at the end of a particularly fruitless week of searching for meager scraps.

He took a radio out of his jacket pocket and spoke into it.

"Caleb, come in Caleb."

"That you Frank?"

"Round everyone up and get down to my location. It's clear of zombies and mutants for the moment and i've found a shit load of stuff. If we can get the SUV's loaded up we'll have enough to take back to the Hill."

"You certain? Don't want to pull everyone off looting for nothing."

"I'm stood right in front of it, Caleb. There's boxes of stuff everywhere. I've even got a shit ton of seeds for the farmers. There's two other stores that I haven't looked in yet. Might have to come back for those."

"Sounds like you got lucky at last. I'll get everyone over to you within the next ten minutes. Start moving the stuff to the door so we can get started straight away. I thought there was a horde around that area last time we looked."

"Some kids got lucky and filled their bags with stuff. Their truck went speeding out of here with the whole horde following close by. No sightings of mutants yet."

"Ok, Frank. See ya soon. Caleb out."

Frank spent the next ten minutes moving dozens of boxes to the front entrance. By the time they arrived he was almost out of breath. Six black armoured SUV's pulled up outside the store front and he counted twenty four men who got out of the vehicles. That was good it meant no casualties so far on this trip into the city. It took half an hour to clear the food store and the camping store of everything of value. Next was the gun store and that proved a little more troublesome. First they had to leaver open the steel shutters. Once that was done Frank set about the lock with his picks and took several minutes before finally opening the door. Christmas didn't come around much these days but that was what everyone present was thinking. The display cases and wall racks were full of all kinds of weapons, ammunition and the various accessories. The group of Hilltop residents as they called themselves set about completely emptying the store of its hundreds of weapons and thousands of rounds of ammunition. The store room and basement were full of stock. Weapons still boxed and ready for display. Enough ammunition to last them though the coming year.

When Frank found the secret room hidden away in the basement he could only imagine what was inside. The picks nimbly got the door open and Frank was stunned to say the least. It was a whole new section full of illegal weaponry. Fully automatic assault rifles of varying types and many different brands. Silencers to fit many of the weapons. Heavy duty machine guns and rocket launchers with their ammunition boxed and ready to be moved. It was an Aladdin's Cave of firearms. When the vehicles were fully loaded it was time to head back to the Hilltop. Eight more SUV's had arrived from the settlement to help move all the weapons and food.

Frank had found a Sniper Rifle hidden away in one of the lockers in the hidden room. He had taken it for himself along with six hundred rounds of .50 caliber ammunition for the sniper rifle. Nothing was left behind. For once they were not disturbed by the dead and their mutant masters. Frank took out his map of the city and marked off where they had fully looted. He took Caleb's map and quickly highlighted the areas on his own map that Caleb and his followers had searched. The vehicles were ready to leave and Frank felt a sense of relief as the last of the vehicles dissapeared into the distance. He felt better when he was out here alone. At least he didn't have to babysit anyone then or watch them die.

The food would keep the community well fed for months. They had enough weaponry to outfit a small army. And even some new tents and sleeping bags as well as other camping gear. All that remained was for Frank to stay in the city and locate a substantial amount of fuel. Caleb's group had spotted a fuel tanker down by the docks. But it had been swarming with undead. If he could get to it and check if it was full it could provide them with fuel for months.

He walked slowly back to his own vehicle. It was a black armoured SUV like the others the Hilltop folk had bought from the military before things went to hell. They had a hundred and sixty five of them left at the settlement on Hilltop. They had lost twenty five to other scavengers and some had been overrun by undead. Ten were stashed in a garage in the city of Lost Hope. His vehicle was one of those and they were used by the settlement's scouts and rangers to scour the city and the rest of the state for valuable goods.

Frank was starting to think it was about time he travelled back to Hilltop and saw his family. He had parents, aunties and uncles, brothers, sisters, nieces and nephews, sons and daughters and grandchildren even a small pack of dogs but mostly he had a wife he hadn't seen in over a month since he had agreed to Caleb's request for another scout in the city. At forty five years old he was feeling more than a little old. It hadn't slowed him down and he was still in good shape for a man approaching fifty. But it felt like his days were numbered. Like it was inevitable that one day he would get careless and fall victim to the undead.

Hilltop had been a little too busy for him at times. With well over fourteen hundred people living there it had become so crowded that he could hardly move without stepping into or over someone. His wife Martha had begged him not to go and his eight kids had done the same. Even his twelve grandchildren couldn't persuade him to stay and look after the family. He wondered if Martha was getting any friendlier with his cousin Leon whose shoulder she had chosen to cry on when Frank wasn't around. He thought they would make a good couple. He liked Leon and treated him like a brother. Frank just wasn't keen on playing happy families when he could be killed at any time. He even carried an extra pistol that he never used. It was fully loaded and he was saving it for himself should he ever be bitten. He didn't want to turn into one of those things. Surely that would be a fate so much worse than death.

He could use the help of Kara his closest contact in the city and a fellow scout. If she could contact one of the others to help. They could lure the horde away and drive off in the fuel tanker. The closest after Kara was Simeon a real bastard of a man who loved the Apocalypse and who delighted in killing zombies and mutants. But he was a tough son of a bitch and knew his job well. Frank had never gotten along with him and didn't particularly trust him. But he had a soft spot for Kara even though she was forty years his junior. Simeon would insist on driving the tanker. He liked the adulation of the folks in Hilltop when the scouts brought stuff back for the community. But Frank wasn't concerned. Before he had the chance to contact her she was on the radio to all fellow scouts in the area.

"This is Kara. Assistance needed immediately. Some bastards have me pinned down on Kingston Road at the Gas Station. They're armed with hunting rifles and I think scopes judging by how close some of their shots came to taking my head off. I've counted six of them so far but there could be more. I can't reach the SUV and i'm trapped behind some old truck. I'm not going to be able to hold them off much longer. Any help would be appreciated."

The radio was alive with activity. He counted at least ten replies including his own from the scouts and rangers of Hilltop. He wondered if Simeon would get the same replies. But Kara was young and pretty and more importantly single now her finance Brad had decided to leave Hilltop and drive across the country to New York. He slammed his foot down on the accelerator and drove towards the Gas Station. He could hear gunfire after several minutes of driving. He noticed immediately the six gunmen closing on Kara's position. He also noticed Simeon arrive at the scene first and pull up behind a waist high wall. He was armed with a semi automatic scoped rifle and quickly set about turning the streets red with the blood of these bastards. Simeon hadn't counted on the seventh man on the top floor of a parking lot across the street. The man took aim and fired. Simeon cried out as the bullet tore through his shoulder and caused him to drop the rifle. Within minutes eight black SUV's from Hilltop had descended on the scene and taken up positions surrounding the men who had taken cover and now realized their predicament.

What everyone had seemed to forget was the deafening noise of all these weapons being fired. Frank thought it must be attracting zombies from all over the city. He stepped out of the vehicle and readied his new sniper rifle at the man on the top of the parking lot. He fired a single shot and the man fell face forward into the concrete pavement below. The hunting rifles they were carrying simply didn't have the firepower of the Hilltop scouts and it soon became apparent as they began to take casualties. They were soon begging to surrender. Four of them who remained alive put down their weapons and stepped into the street where they would be easy targets for anyone looking to kill them.

Simeon didn't give them chance to explain and wouldn't listen to the protests of his fellow scouts. He took out a Desert Eagle and went to each of the men put the gun to their head and fired. Kara came running over and insisted on looking and treating his wounded shoulder and all the time thanking those who had risked their lives to help her. Simeon was still fuming and looked like he wanted to continue his killing spree. Frank checked the bodies of the murdered men and took anything of use. He loaded the vehicle up with their weapons and ammuntion and their backpacks.

Moments later the scouts were being approached from every direction by slow moving zombies and a pack of feral ghouls who ran along on all fours their mutant bodies stretched and distorted by the virus so that they were easy to spot among the zombies. The scouts got in their vehicles and agreed to meet up at the garage where they usually stored the SUV's in town and had become something of a temporary safehouse and barracks for the scouts operating in this part of the city. It was well defended and had a months supply of food, fuel and water for long stays in the city for as many as twenty five of the Hilltop scouts.

Frank led the charge through the horde and ploughed into the zombies its front bull-bars making quick work of the flesh bags that had blocked the street. The armoured wind shield was a godsend when the scouts were forced to drive through such a large number of undead. It took a minute to clear the mass of bodies but the vehicles were soon through the other side and driving across town to the safe-house. Everyone agreed that trying to loot with so many riled up zombies on the loose was pointless so they would stop for the rest of the day and get some sleep at the safe-house.

Fred Wilks had been a police sergeant for over thirty years and was now the safe-house commander for this district of the city. The police were no more in this city so he had plenty of time to run the safe-house for the Hilltop community. He had a permanent staff of of five men who kept the safe-house clear of zombies and any human threats. They opened the garage doors to let the ten vehicles into the safe-house. Frank watched them as they congratulated each other on a job well done. There wasn't even a mention of what Simeon had done. They had all seen and done too much to shed any tears over that scum they had just killed. If Simeon hadn't done it it was likely one of the others would have.

Leaving enemies alive was stupid and pointless. There was no law any more. No one would care if they killed those men, murdered those men. He put it out of his mind and went to sit down and put his feet up. The fuel tanker would have to wait for the roads to clear before they could attempt to move it. Simeon wouldn't be doing the driving afterall with that shoulder wound. The quartermaster for the safehouse was Ernie White. An old navy seal who was fast approaching seventy years old. He was a spritely man of a cheerful nature. The only thing he took seriously was his job of keeping the safehouse fully stocked and getting everything we brought him from around the city into its rightful place in the armoury or storehouse. He searched all the vehicles the scouts had used and emptied the looted contents onto a steel trolley to be moved to its place in the stores.

Frank didn't feel much like talking so wandered upto the barracks above the garage and sprawled out on his bunk. He loosened his boots and let them fall off his feet onto the floor. He lay back and was soon snoring loudly as the scouts downstairs celebrated a good day of looting and killing zombies.

July 2077, 19.56 Friday 13th . 10 miles east of the City of Lost Hope.

California Population 10,109,655 living civilians, 43,000 national guard – Outskirts of Los Angeles, 23,000 Army Personnel to secure the whole of California, 258,000 living military personnel and civilians in underground bases awaiting 'Mission Apocalypse' orders. 51,895,000 zombies, 10,709,000 mutants, 1,200,000 infant mutant spawn, 20,000,000 infant zombie spawn, 100,000,000+ spawning pods.

Brad had only left Hilltop a day ago to drive to his sister's place in New York to see if they were still alive. But here he was ten miles outside of Lost Hope and already he was regretting leaving. The vehicle had been checked before he set off by Ash Gilbert the resident mechanic at the city safehouse. But for some reason he was pulled up at the side of the road his engine overheating and steam pouring from under the hood.

"I don't need this shit right now." He complained to himself.

"I thought Ash had checked the damn thing before I left."

Is this really what he had broke up with Kara his fiance of two years for. It was a stupid idea anyway. How did he expect to travel all the way across the country to New York. He had no idea what it would be like there. Only the news reports out of the city when the virus first struck had told him of conditions in the city. It was hardly surprising that with so many millions of people packed into the city that this had been the worst affected place in the entire country. There was no hope that his family were still alive but yet he felt he had to make the effort to find out. He owed it to them, that's what he kept telling himself. But he knew what it would be like.

He had been in Los Angeles when the virus hit. He had seen the dead rise and the worst that humanity had to offer. He knew he couldn't make such a trip alone. It suddenly occurred to him. Simeon had been hanging around the garage before he left. That bastard was always trying his luck with Kara even though he knew it pissed Brad off. What did the old bastard want with her anyway. He was too old for any kind of meaningful relationship Brad thought. Besides Kara had said the man gave her the creeps and didn't like to be left alone with him. But that only made Simeon try harder. Brad wondered if Simeon had tampered with his vehicle before he left.

This was not a good place to be with so many zombies and mutants around. But really it was the living humans that scared Brad more than the monsters. They seemed to have no morality at all. Nothing was beneath them and they thrived on misery, pain and death. He had to get back to the city but in this heat it would be a struggle even if it was only ten miles away. He hated to leave the SUV here for anyone to steal but what choice did he have.

Brad was no mechanic. What he knew about cars other than their top speed he could write on the back of his hand. If only he had brought a radio with him like they had wanted him to. Come to think of it, Simeon had argued that they couldn't spare any radios and they were all needed for the scouts. The more Brad thought about it the more he realised he had been set up by the old man. No doubt he was filling Kara's head full of bullshit about him leaving her and how Brad had never been good enough for her. That piece of shit. That dirty disgusting bastard had set him up to die out here. A part of Brad said he should have spotted the signs weeks ago when Simeon started becoming aggressive towards him.

Brad knew the sun would set in about half an hour. He had to make the choice to either leave the vehicle and head back to the city on foot. The other alternative was to stay in the vehicle overnight. He had only seen about ten vehicles on the road since he left the city but this would be like a red rag to a bull for all the raiders and bandits out there. He had to get off the road and find somewhere safer to wait.

He looked in the backseat at all his worldly possessions. Most importantly his AK47 assault rifle. He had taken it off the dead body of a group of raiders a year ago and it had served him well ever since. A katana and scabbard that he had taken off a deranged lunatic who tried to attack his group of scouts. A machete and sheath that he kept around for close encounters with zombie kind. An auto shotgun for getting up close and personal. A Desert Eagle, signature weapon of the Hilltop scouts. He had a crate of various canned food and a crate of bottled water. He would have to leave most of the supplies behind. He had an ammo bag with 550 rounds for the AK47, 250 rounds for the shotgun, and 200 rounds for the handgun. He had a backpack he could fill with his stuff but he didn't want to make it too heavy to carry.

He checked his essentials. A map of California and a map of the local area around Lost Hope. His water canteen. He had a hooded jacket that he could fold up and carry in the backpack for the rare chance that it might rain. He had a compass that Kara had given him as a birthday present when he had got lost one night on his way to meet her and her parents. She had thought it was highly amusing and he had just been embarressed that his first meeting with her parents had started so badly.

A full beam flashlight that would be essential if he was travelling in the dark over rough terrain. A fully stocked medical kit and various medications and tools. He found a bag of batteries for the flashlight which he placed in the pocket in his jeans. Several spare sets of laces for his combat boots. An old Cowboy hat that he insisted on wearing even though Kara had told him he looked ridiculous. He pulled a red and black chequered shirt over his vest and looked at all the camping gear in the back of the vehicle. It would only weigh him down. He couldn't believe the stuff he would have to leave behind. It had taken months of looting to get this gear and now he was going to abandon it thanks to that scum Simeon. Brad wondered what he would do if he got back to the safehouse. Simeon would probably expect him to die out here. But he was going to have a surprise for the old man if he made it back.

His mind was made up. He would travel back to Lost Hope in the dark. He had no illusions about the danger he would face. But staying here for all to see at the edge of the road was an even worse idea. He counted out ten bottles of water and placed them in his backpack along with the rest of his gear. He then counted out ten cans of food and along with a tin opener, a steel plate and a knife, fork and spoon placed them alongside the water in his backpack. The sword he also placed inside the pack along with its scabbard. He couldn't see much use for it in the dark.

The machete he fastened to his belt. He placed the Desert Eagle in its holster and took a box of pistol ammunition from his ammo bag and placed them in his leather jacket for easy access. The assault rifle he swung over his shoulder by the attached strap. He took two full magazines from the ammo bag and placed them in his other pocket of his leather jacket. He would carry the shotgun and took a handful of shotgun shells, enough to fully load the weapon if he had reason to fire and empty its contents into something or someone. He placed the shotgun shells in an inside jacket pocket where he could reach them easily. A set of binoculars he wore around his neck, not that they would be much use in the dark.

Everything else that he didn't immediately need went into the seemingly bottomless backpack. It's not like he could get lost on his way back if he kept the road in sight. But he would have to travel far enough from the road so as not to be seen by anyone in a vehicle. He was lucky the SUV had stopped here and not a hundred miles into his journey. Even though he knew the journey was pointless he wondered if he should try again and perhaps take a mechanic along who was willing to go the whole distance across the country. That was a thought for another time. He gathered up what remained and left the rest in the vehicle. Hopefully it would still be here when they came back to reclaim it. He wound up the windows and locked the doors. The reinforced bulletproof glass would keep most out but there was nothing stopping someone simply torching the vehicle in frustration.

July 2077, 20.44 Friday 13th . 10 miles east of the City of Lost Hope.

Brad set off on his journey home. He carried the shotgun in his right hand and pointed the flashlight ahead of himself with his left hand. Forty minutes into his walk he heard the vehicle in the distance. He crouched down behind a large rock and turned off the flashlight so as not to give away his position. He waited for the vehicle to pass and then noticed a second vehicles headlights in the distance travelling at high speed in the same direction that the other vehicle had travelled. The second vehicle passed by moments later seemingly in a big hurry. Brad immediately wondered if the second vehicle had been chasing the first. He would have to be careful as he made his way forward.

Fifteen minutes later Brad saw the lights from the two vehicles a hundred metres from his position. Again he turned off his flash light and crouched down looking in the direction of the cars. One seemed to have crashed and was on its roof. Then he heard the screams in the distance. He tried looking at what was happening though the binoculars but the light was in the wrong place. It sounded like a woman or women screaming for help. He didn't know why but he steadily headed for the sound of the screams. He took off his backpack and laid it down on the ground. He placed his shotgun next to the backpack and readied his assault rifle. He marked his position and set of at speed towards the noise and the light from the vehicles. He hoped he would be able to find his gear again. He still had his flashlight even though it was turned off at the moment. A minute later he was crouched behind a bush and could see what was going on twenty metres away. A group of four men stood over two females who were laying on the floor each with a man sat over them.

It was immediately obvious what was happening. Six men and two females. The men had been in the second car. The women in the first. The second car had been chasing the first and had caught them here driving them off the road. He could tell they had been stripped of their clothing but anything more than that he couldn't make out in the darkness. The screams were haunting and the cherring from the men made his blood boil. As if things weren't bad enough these fuckers were just out to rape and terrorize. Before he even had chance to think about his actions he was running straight for the group of men who all had their backs to him.

He levelled the assault rifle and was firing before he thought of the possible consequences. He stopped ten metres away from the men who had just heard his footsteps running towards them. Brad fired a three round burst and took the first of the men in the chest. T|he man dropped to the ground dead before even noticing what was going on. A second man with a long straggly beard and long receading scruffy hair went for the pistol at his waist. Brad fired another burst and the man's head exploded in a shower of blood, bone and flesh. He fell on top of the man just killed and nocked one of his fellow raiders to the ground where he thrashed around trying to get back up.

The third man looked stunned like an animal in a vehicles headlights just before it was splattered all over the road. Brad fired a burst at the man's forhead, two went wide but one struck him right above his nose. He fell back silently and died. The fourth man had his pistol out and was firing wildly. Brad let the rifle fall to the floor and took out his machete and Desert Eagle. He was momentarilly shaken as a bullet grazed his left cheek leaving a trail of blood that covered his shirt. He charged forward firing the pistol and scoring a hit in the man's leg and gut. The man cried out in agony and fell to the floor shouting for his momma. Brad finished off with a shot to the mouth that wrecked his already decaying teeth. The bullet exiting out the back of his head. The two men on the floor had managed to get to their feet but their pants were still on the floor along with their weapons. The wild monstrous look in Brad's eyes was enough to have them begging for mercy. Brad was beyond listening. He took a full swing at the first of the two with his machete and took the top of his head clean off exposing brain matter and slattering blood all over the screaming woman on the floor.

The next he simply strode over to pointed the Desert Eagle in his eye and pulled the trigger. The man fell straight across the woman he had been on top of. Both of the women continued screaming as the blood soaked maniac went about his deadly business. As the last of the men fell a deathly silence came over them as they looked around at the bloody carnage he had wrought. They did their best to cover themselves as Brad went to each one and took any weapons and ammunition they had. He picked up his dropped rifle and slung it over his shoulder.

"Are you alright?"

"He simply asked them as they fumbled with their clothes trying to cover themselves from this monster.

"You killed them. You killed all of them." The blood soaked blonde kept repeating.

"Don't shed any tears for those scum. They would have taken what they wanted from you and left you out here to die."

"I'm not shedding tears for them. But you just killed six men like they were nothing."

"Wouldn't you have done the same given what they were doing to you?"

The second younger woman walked over to the man who had been on top of her and kicked him in the head repeatedly stamping on his face until it caved in. The blonde tried to console her but couldn't stop the sudden violent outburst. Brad took what looked like the drivers car keys for the old beat up pick up truck and placed them in his pocket. He took out the flashlight and wondered off in the direction he had left his gear.

"Hey you. You can't just leave us here." The blonde complained as Brad disappeared into the darkness.

"You bastard. We'll die out here if you don't help us." She screamed at the seemingly uncaring man. A few minutes later he had returned with his backpack and shotgun.

"You came back. Are you going to help us or what?" The younger woman asked.

"I thought that's what I just had done." He replied mischievously.

"Will you take us to Lost Hope. We have relatives there if they are still alive. We've driven all the way from Dallas."

"I'm going back there. My vehicle broke down a few miles back. I need to get to the city to arrange to have it towed back or fixed. And you need our doctor to take a look at you both. Check there's nothing wrong with you."

"There's plenty wrong with us. You saw what those bastards did to us. We'll get our things out of our car. We can ride in the back of that pickup if you'll drive us."

"Why not it saves me walking the whole way. We should move quick there's no telling how many zombies those shots attracted."

The two women finished dressing and wandered over to their car. They pulled out two backpacks and carried them over to the back of the pick up truck. They placed them in the truck and climbed into the back.

"Hey, thanks for what you did. |They would have killed us for certain if you hadn't come along."

"You're welcome. Lets get back to the city before we end up as the next course on a zombie menu."

"I'm Annie, this is my younger sister Ellie." The blonde said wiping a handful of gore out of her hair.

Brad couldn't really tell what they looked like. The blood was everywhere and covered what were probably two attractive faces. But they had put up with enough shit tonight and didn't need him leering at them like some deranged pervert.

"I wish we could have met under better circumstances. I'm Brad."

"Did you know your face is bleeding?" Ellie said pointing at his cheek.

"I'll get it fixed up once we reach the city."

"Do you know of a place called Hilltop on the outskirts of Lost Hope? Our family are supposed to be there." Annie questioned.

"That's were I came from. I was driving across country to New York."

"Haven't you heard? The whole east coast is overrun with zombies. If you had people there, they are probably dead. I'm sorry."

"I thought as much. Don't know why I thought I could get to see them. Sit back and hopefully enjoy a smooth ride. Its only about eight miles away. Shouldn't take us too long at all if the roads are clear."

2077/New Years Eve/10 Miles North of the Mexican-American Border/5 Minutes to Midnight/The Last Rites Biker Bar (Also Known as The Lone Preacher's Place).

Ramano Ramirez had known better days. In five minutes it would be another year over and he still had little to show for his miserable existence. At twenty five and three years since finishing college he would have expected life to have been kinder. But here he was in the most dangerous place for hundreds of miles in any direction about to play bodyguard to one of the most wanted men in America and Mexico while a deal played out between rival gangs.

They called themselves 'The Hellspawned Bastards', led by the most notorious gang leader of the 2070's. He named himself Lucifer. Originality wasn't one of his strong points. His real name was Alfredo Garcia, seven and half foot tall and built like a tank. He had led the 'Bastards' for seven years since the death of his father the gang founder. They were responsible for most of the drug trade crossing the border, as well as selling sex slaves to brothels, arms dealing, prostitution, protection rackets, assassinations, and a long list of other crimes that had put a bounty of one hundred million dollars on Garcia's head. For his death or capture. Everyone but him knew his days were numbered. Everyone wanted that pay day. But with ten thousand or more gang members spread throughout the two countries, no one was getting near him unless they had a damn good reason.

'The Mexican Headhunters' were a relatively new gang on the rise and making a name for themselves. Their main business was smuggling drugs and people from South and Central America into the United States. If the deal went well then both sides stood to make hundreds of millions of dollars. Ramano was there to make certain that nothing interfered with the deal. The Preacher, Jack Blackwood had arranged for them to use the upstairs private members club. A place where nothing was off limits to the right customer and for the right price. He'd had the place cleared of all locals and set up some entertainment for his valued guests.

Ramano had to wonder how he managed to get caught up in all this bullshit. A failed sports career led to drinking, whoring and drugs. By the time he had been left college for a year he had frittered away his two million dollar inheritance. Garcia found him in an alleyway getting the shit kicked out of him and high on cocaine. He cleaned him up and put him to work as a low ranking messenger and thug. Ramano rose through the ranks quicker than anyone. He learned all the tricks of the trade. Made a name for himself in the illegal death fights at which he seemed to excel. But it had it's price. He had finished with the drugs, but found new vices to quench his thirst for the seedier entertainment to which he was slowly becoming accustomed.

Cast of Characters

Main Character 32 – Jericho Santiago (Survivalist and Night Club Owner, Drunkard, Druggie, Wife Beater, Incestuous, Drug Dealer, Arms Dealer, Pimp, Sex Dealer, Ex Marine, People Trafficker, Slaver, Businessman, End of the World Prepper, Billionaire, Gambler, Casino Owner, Owns a private company that hires and trains mercenaries,

Ex Wife 32 – Daniella Forbes Santiago (Beaten Wife, Billionaire, Businesswoman, Drunkard, Druggie, Restraining Order Against Jericho, Her boyfriends keep disappearing thanks to Jerichos jealousy

Daughter 16 – Zara Santiago (High School Student, Cheerleader, Extremely Popular, Bitchy, Vengeful, Just started experimenting with drink and drugs – just like her parents, Hero worships her father, argues constantly with her mother

Brother 34 – Real Name Joshua Michael Santiago (Michael Hamilton) (Very Wealthy and successful businessman, company owner and CEO, billionaire, ruthless, charismatic, charming, good looking, athletic, sportsman, collects expensive things, has numerous mistresses, enjoys hunting, keeps eveything legal unlike his younger brother who he hates with a passion, very controlling, has a dark side to his personality,

Brothers Wife 40 – Christiana Hamilton

Brothers Daughter 18 – Ashleigh Hamilton

Brothers Daughter 18 – Kiera Hamilton

Brothers Son 17 – Charles Hamilton

Sister 28 (Divorced) Rosa Santiago (Singer and Dancer, Businesswoman, Billionaire, Lesbian, Hates most men other than her brothers who she totally despises

Mother 50 Francesca Santiago (Extremely Wealthy Widow, Billionaire, Company Owner and CEO, Likes Designer Drugs, Expensive Spirits, Young Muscular and Athletic men who don't have much to say for themselves and who she can easily use and discard at her whim,

Father (Disceased) Fransisco Santiago would be 64 died twelve years ago

Roadhouse Bar – House of Jericho, Biker Gang – Satan's Soldiers

As people get ready to celebrate the new year, terrorist bombs explode in many of the worlds largest cities. But these are no ordinary bombs. THey all carry a strain of what is now being called the Apocalypse Re-Animator Virus. Bio engineered to kill its host and then reanimate the dead body. The victims suffer terribly for about twelve hours and then die a horrible death only to become a ravenous flesh eating savage killer. `

Date: December, 2077 (twelve months since the virus killed its first victims).

Location: Oakwood City, New York State.

Population: 12,500,000+ Walking Corpses, 50,000+ Survivors Immune to the Virus – All are considered carriers and beyond help, no rescue is ever likely.

City Status: Heavily Quarantined by the Military, Considered a Dead Zone by the Authorities, no one enters the Zone and no one leaves. The city remains closed off to the outside world while the government decides the best way to tackle the outbreak of the virus.

The Dead Zone: An area of roughly 1,000 square miles centred on Oakwood City and quarantined by the military. The city is overrun with zombies and less likely to house any survivors. Most of the 50,000+ survivors are located in defensible buildings in remote areas. One such location is Kransdale Prison for the Criminally Insane.

The Prison: Current Population: 591

Kransdale is a newly built institution in the last days of its construction. At the time of the virus outbreak it was months away from receiving its first inmates. The prison was fully stocked ready for its grand opening. The only people inside the prison at this time were security guards, some doctors and nurses. There was also maintenance staff, cleaners and a small contingent of prison guards, all of whom were situated with their families in secure housing on the prison site but sectioned off from the main prison.

In all there were perhaps 50 people working in the prison and a further 300 living on the sight as part of their families. When the virus struck just like the rest of Oakwood City and the surrounding area the prison felt the full force of the virus and it killed ninety percent of those living there within the first few weeks. Families were torn apart as their loved ones died. Most of those who died were in the sectioned off living quarters and were easier to control once they rose from the dead. Among the small contingent of security guards and prison officers, only two remained alive. They led the survivors in a desperate attempt to rid the prison of its undead population. Virtually no family had more than one remaining survivor, leaving all of the children who survived as orphans. In all by the time the forty or so survivors had destroyed the undead within the prison there were no more than twenty five left, all the others having been bitten and rising from the dead themselves.

The prison survivors watched the alarming news unfold over the weeks since the outbreak began and over the weeks afterwards. It was made clear that everyone in what was being termed The Dead Zone was infected with the virus but up to 10% of people were immune. They watched as hope faded of a rescue as the military quarantined a massive area around the city and stated that those inside the quarantine area would have to remain there until a vaccine was found to combat the virus. Once it was clear that those who were going to die from the virus would do so in the first few weeks, the survivors started allowing other survivors from outside into their home.

In the three months since the outbreak, the survivors have been busy making the prison as liveable as possible. Regular scavenging runs are made into the city and surrounding area for things the survivors need. Regular radio transmissions have brought a further five hundred or more people to the prison. Most of them arrived in a terrible state of starvation, along with many other complaints such as tiredness, sickness, and hyperthermia. The prison had been built to house five thousand inmates and had been stocked with food and supplies for its opening. This would probably last the five to six hundred survivors for more than a year if they ate sparingly.

It was decided early on that the supplies would not be enough and so they would have to scavenge from the city. Every day between thirty and fifty cars and vans are taken out to find whatever they can and bring it back to the prison. Casualties have been high so far among the Scavengers with about a hundred people lost to the zombies who now plague the city.

In the early days of the outbreak, the military made around 1,000 humanitarian aid drops around the city and surrounding area. These supplies lie mostly unopened where they fell from the planes that dropped them. Although the survivors have found several of these aid supplies, they remain on the lookout for more. The drops were stopped after several weeks when the futility of the situation was realised.

The Prison Factions:

The Democrats – This is the largest group within the prison with about 120 members. It is led by the Chief of Security Dale Connolly. The Chief was one of the original security guards who led the survivors against their undead relatives to secure the prison. He has remained in a position of authority and been voted as The Chief by the prison population. The Democrats are made up of those who still believe in doing things the old way. They are looking for security and a decent way of life and generally back the Security Chief in his decisions regarding the running of the prison community.

The Survivalists – The Survivalists are perhaps the most content group within the prison as their dream of an Apocalypse slowly unfolds. What they have been preparing for all those years has now happened. They are the most fanatical and prepared group of the entire prison. The Survivalists revolve around a very tight-knit group of weapons enthusiasts. There are about fifteen families and twenty individuals. They number around seventy people in total. Jake Schneider represents the survivalists, a former special forces Vietnam veteran captured by the Viet Cong who managed to escape and fight his way through enemy held territory to reconnect with his unit.

The Orphans – Another large group and growing by the day are The Orphans. Led by Aran Reynolds an 18 year old college student who helped clear the prison in its earliest days. His father was one of the psychiatrists who were to work in the prison once it had opened. The Orphans range from new born babies to 18 year old youths. They number about eighty. The Orphans are extremely protective of their own and anyone wishing to harm one of them will find a large mob of angry teenagers are out for their blood.

The Techies – This small group of highly professional individuals contains everything from maintenance men to construction workers, electricians, carpenters, brick layers, farmers and generator maintenance personnel. There are perhaps no more than fifty in this group led by one of the original prison inhabitants Steve Corrigan, the Building Site Manager for the Kransdale Prison.

The story follows various groups of survivors as they try to find refuge from the ravages of the virus that is quickly sweeping across the globe killing all in its path. But that is not the worst of it. Once the victims die of the virus they are returned as the undead, zombies. The story will focus on the fictional city of Oakwood in New York State. As a centre for survivors in the beleaguered city, the Kransdale Prison for the Criminally Insane has become one of a few places where civilization tries desperately to

survive. As radio broadcasts are sent out from the prison to the local area, small groups of survivors attempt to make their way to the prison in the hope of finding some kind of sanctuary. Follow their journeys. Some will make it, while others will undoubtedly fall to the zombie hordes.

The Scavengers – This group of survivors are the backbone of the community. Without them the prison would be without much needed supplies. This is also the group that is most likely to get you killed. The scavengers are the ones most at risk from the undead as they are out every day scavenging. This was once the largest group with over two hundred members, but has been reduced to about one hundred. They are led by Matt Harrison, a New York police lieutenant, and Rihanna Weston a former sergeant in the Marines.

The Faithful – This group spends most of its time praying for a miracle to happen, hoping they will be delivered from the evil that surrounds them. They are led by Father John O'Malley. They number about one hundred members.

The Professors – The professors are a small group of twenty professionals who range from scientists and psychiatrists to school teachers and college lecturers. They are led by the group's leading psychiatrist Emilia Frederickson.

The Grunts – The Grunts are the remnants of a whole Mechanized Battalion who were sent into the city in the early days of the outbreak. They were swarmed by the undead and those who didn't die from exposure to the virus died of zombie bites or being eaten alive. There are 36 survivors among The Grunts. Like everyone else they can expect no rescue and must make the best of the situation they now find themselves in. They are led by Lieutenant Rosanna Sherringham. They bring with them a heavy amount of firepower and ammunition, salvaged from their temporary base inside the city. The Grunts are responsible for the prison's security, with the lieutenant second in command to The Security Chief.

The Prisoners – This is the smallest faction within the prison with only 15 members. The main difference with this faction is that no one chooses to join. These are members of the prison who have committed serious crimes while inside the prison and been sentenced to jail time by The Security Chief and a jury. Nobody represents The Prisoners, if most people had their way they would be marched out of the front gate and left to fend for themselves. This is something that is being considered by the town council who see the prisoners as a drain on resources and a danger to the community.

National Status: In the three months since the outbreak in Oakwood City began, there have been over fifty more locations hit by the virus. The whole country is now in a State of Emergency. The government is conducting its business from a secure underground facility. The Armed Forces including the National Guard are in place throughout the country. But the sheer number of outbreak locations is taking its toll and stretching the forces to breaking point. Rough estimates put the number of dead in the United States alone at 150 million to 200 million. The armed forces are at around ten to twenty percent of their usual strength, desertions are at an all time high as whole command groups are infected by the virus leaving only a skeleton staff to run operations throughout the country. No one has heard from the government in their supposedly protective bunker, most think them to be either ineffective at controlling the outbreak or are themselves infected and if not already turned then dead.

World Status: The virus continues to spread across the planet, killing almost every human it comes into contact with. Rough figures suggest that a billion to three billion people have died from the virus and rose from the dead. A further billion to two billion have been slaughtered by the zombie hordes. Estimates put the current figure of living humans at two to three billion. This will undoubtedly change as the virus sweeps across the globe.

Tuesday 1st December, 2077,

Outskirts of Oakwood City, New York State.

Ryan listened as the radio broadcast the same message for the 23rd time that day.

"This message comes from Kransdale Prison. We are a survivor community operating out of the newly built prison, 10 miles south east of Oakwood City. We have food, water and supplies. The prison is not occupied by any inmates and has been cleared of any threats. We have sufficient arms to defend ourselves and protect the community from any threats from outside.

"We invite and encourage anyone seeking safe refuge from the hordes to make their way to the prison. We have vehicles out on patrol throughout the area. All will be happy to transport or escort you to the prison if they see you. Bring what supplies with you that you can carry, as all is still needed and will help with any shortages we may suffer in the future. This is Chief of Security Dale Connolly. We hope to see you soon."

"What do you think, Caesar? Shall we go? It could just be a bunch of psychos got lose in the prison. But we've got fuck all to keep us here. The food's nearly all gone. The beers all been drunk, and these log cabins weren't designed for staying here during the winter. It's only a matter of time before one of those walking dead assholes turns up here and thinks he's found a fucking feast fit for a king." Ryan asked his dog who was sprawled lazily across the double bed chewing on a bone. Caesar gave a series of short loud barks and then went back to chewing his bone.

Ryan got up from his chair and threw the empty bottle of Bud he had been drinking into the rubbish bin. He walked over to the cupboards and started taking out what supplies he had left. He noted them as he went through them. Twenty two cans of beans, sixteen cans of ham, twelve cans of tuna, thirty two cans of potatoes, fifteen cans of beef curry, thirteen cans of chicken curry, five 2kg bags of pasta, eight 2kg bags of rice, fifteen large bags of potato chips, nine cans of chilli, thirty four cans of dog meat, forty two bottles of water, eighteen cans of Cola, ten jars of coffee, five bottles of Bud, half a bottle of whiskey, and two bottles of vodka. He looked in the freezer. There were twenty seven ready meals of various types, eighteen pizzas and six bags of mixed vegetables.

He thought maybe enough for another month or two at best. The biggest problem was the winter. Already the first signs of snowfall were on the ground. The cabin was only meant to be occupied during the summer months.

Ryan had been trapped here for three months while the quarantine had been in effect. He hadn't seen anyone in all that time, the cabin being in a remote valley far from the nearest town. He walked over to his wardrobe and began looking through his clothes, all were summer wear. He went to the weapons storage cabinet and looked through his small collection. A 9mm semi automatic pistol and sixteen twelve bullet magazines, A semi automatic shotgun and four boxes of fifty shotgun shells, A scoped hunting rifle and six hundred rounds, A AK 74 and twenty magazines, A hunting crossbow and fifty crossbow bolts, A machete, two hunting knives, A hand axe, A woodcutters axe, A crowbar, A baseball bat, A samurai sword and a pair of spiked knuckledusters. There were times when being a criminal really did have its good points. Not that he could see the benefit right at this moment. If he hadn't been hiding from the law he wouldn't have been trapped in this god forsaken place.

What use was the money he had stolen from the mob controlled underground casino in the heist he and his fellow gang members had done just before the outbreak of the virus. For a guess the rest of the gang were probably all zombie food or walking dead themselves. He had over a million dollars in untraceable notes, and not a place on Earth to spend them.

Ryan couldn't quite imagine what kind of community this prison had created but it had to be better than just him and Caesar for the rest of time. From the look of the news broadcasts there was no likelihood of any rescue for survivors who supposedly carried this disease even if they were immune to it themselves. He had to wonder, was he really one of the lucky ones to have survived. Or was this just the beginning of Hell on Earth for the survivors.

Without too much more thought, Ryan persuaded himself to give the prison a try. At worst he could fight his way out of there if the place was not what the man on the radio said it was. He would load the van up in the morning and drive the thirty or more miles to the prison and hope it was safe. The money he would stash somewhere near the cabin in as deep a hole as possible. It wouldn't look too good to the good citizens of this prison if he turned up with so much cash, they might start asking awkward questions. It seemed a bit of a joke that he had spent the whole thirty six years of his life trying to avoid being sent to prison, and here he was about to go there of his own free will. Tomorrow he would set out, now he intended to get as drunk as possible while he still could.

Ryan awoke to a throbbing headache. His mouth felt dry like sandpaper and tasted like he had swallowed something unpleasant. Caesar lay sprawled across his chest. The German Shepherd Dog seemed content and didn't attempt to move. The room span and his vision blurred until he could see a dozen lights above his bed. This wasn't the best start to his new life. He was to say the least extremely cold. The wood on the fire had died out hours ago and left the log cabin freezing along with the harsh conditions outside.

"Get up, Caesar. I need to get ready." He told the dog as it reluctantly moved down the bed and off Ryan.

Ryan got up and pulled on a pair of jeans and t-shirt. He went to the kitchen sink and took a swallow of bottled water from the refrigerator. That was another thing was getting low, fuel for the generator. He reckoned he had about another weeks worth left at most. Without electricity the place would be even more dismal than it appeared now. He was relying on bottled water for drinking at the moment, the water having been cut off in the first month of the outbreak. For washing he used melted snow, right about now a nice warm prison shower sounded like something he wouldn't mind.

Although he had to still question the wisdom of leaving this place. It was miles from anywhere and so it was off the track for shambling corpses. He doubted he would ever see one near the cabin, but who could really tell what would happen. He could probably scavenge the local area for supplies. He knew all the local towns and villages, not to mention all the highway road stops. But it was likely wherever he tried to scavenge from was overrun with walking corpses. But if he left it much later he would have to risk it.

Ryan had to wonder if anyone he knew still lived. He'd been in this place for three months now without word from anyone since the early days of the outbreak. The only voices he heard these days were the local radio stations.

He went to the wardrobe and pulled on another t-shirt and a short sleeved shirt, the only kind he had. He would have given anything for a jumper and a warm jacket. He hoped the heating in the van was still working or he would freeze his ass off getting to the prison. He looked in the mirror, what stared back at him was a bleary eyed stranger or so it seemed. He ran his hand through his black goatee and moustache. It was growing wild and needed some careful attention. His normally bold head was covered in inch long black hair and was desperately in need of a cut. He traced with his fingers the tattoo on his left side of his head and face that ran down his neck and left arm, a tribal gang tattoo from his youthful days of gang violence in the Bronx where he grew up. The other arm was decorated with a large tattoo of the Grim Reaper on his right forearm, and a picture of his first girlfriend on his right bicep. The rest of his body, about seventy percent of it, was likewise tattooed with gang affiliated markings that to this day he still wore with pride.

He flexed his muscles while looking into the mirror and decided he could do with some work in the gym. He was putting on weight with all this sitting around and nothing to do but eat and drink. He pulled on a pair of Adidas trainers and walked to the gun cabinet. A nagging doubt was forming in the back of his mind. Maybe he should scout this place out before committing himself to becoming one of the community.

Afterall he had no idea who these people were. They could be a group of escaped psychos, or deranged cannibals, or gangs. He was quickly going off the idea as he thought it through more carefully. But whether he went to them or not, he would have to scavenge for all the supplies he needed, starting with some warm clothes. He knew the nearest town to the log cabin was five miles away, named Springdale. It was a small town of approximately thirty thousand people. He had to wonder at how many still lived. From the early news reports it was estimated that fifty to ninety percent of those infected would die within the first week and rise during the next day. At best there might be three thousand survivors left in the town, if they haven't already been bitten or eaten. What could he expect from a bunch of trigger happy locals looking to hang on to what they've got and with a mind to shoot looters on sight?

He took out the pistol and its holster along with three magazines. That would be for last resort only. He had no idea if gunshots would attract those things and wasn't prepared to find out unless he absolutely had to. He took the machete and its sheath and strapped it on the other side to the holster. He took the hunting crossbow and counted out twenty crossbow bolts placing them in the crossbow quiver. He slung the quiver over his back and held onto the crossbow feeling its weight and balance.

He wasn't an expert marksman by any sense of the meaning. But he knew how to operate and maintain all his weapons, and had done so since he was twelve years old and been taught by his father. He was glad his mother and father had died of old age several years ago. He didn't think he could handle the thought of them being walking corpses. Luckily he had no brothers or sisters and had never married or had kids. The only people he gave a damn about were his old gang members. He hoped some of them had survived.

He'd already thought that the prison was a bad idea. He would scavenge for supplies and try to find some fuel for the generator. He didn't welcome the prospect of leaving the cabin, but at least he could secure the place while he was gone. It was built to last, even though it felt like living in the Arctic during the winter.

He took a bottle of water from the refrigerator and placed it in his bag, along with the three spare pistol magazines and his cigarettes and lighter. He slung his bag over his shoulder and picked up his van keys. He said his goodbyes to Caesar and locked the place up tight and secure, they would have to use explosives to get that door off.

The ground was covered in twelve inches of snow and still more was falling from the sky. He shivered as the cold bit deep into his exposed skin. After checking around the rest of the cabin and making certain everything was secure he was ready to go. He got into the van and started it up without any problem. He placed the crossbow on the seat next to him along with the quiver and his bag which were too uncomfortable to wear on his back while he was driving.

He followed the country lane track as best as he could but it was completely covered in snow and impossible to see. After ten minutes of crawling along at snail pace he was out onto the highway. The first thing he noticed was how quiet the normally busy road was. It wasn't just eerily quiet it was dead, nothing moved.

A mile down the road he came to his first sign of the ravages of the outbreak. A fifty car pile up blocked the road. All around the outside and inside of the wrecks he could see the utter devastation. Mutilated bodies littered the highway, headless, limbless. Little was left to the imagination. The snow was gradually building up around the corpses. An army truck lay on its side just off the road. What he assumed were soldiers lay around the truck, it looked like they had been eaten alive. He noticed bullet holes in the sides of many of the cars.

Whatever had happened here had left everyone involved dead and rotting at the side of the road. He assumed that many of the dead would have wondered off into the local countryside. This would put them dangerously close to his cabin. Suddenly the chances of walking corpses attacking the cabin didn't seem so unlikely. The thought of getting out of the van and searching through the vehicles and examining the bodies came to mind, but how could he be certain they were all truly dead. Maybe some of those walking corpses were just waiting for their next meal to come along.

Driving through the traffic wreck would be impossible, cars, trucks, vans and trailers littered every inch of the highway for hundreds of metres. He would have to take the van off road if he wanted to get around them. The temptation was getting the better of him. Perhaps he might find something warm to wear. He took a large sack from the backseat of the van, checked his pistol and drew his machete. Hoping this wasn't going to be his last day on earth as a living human being, he opened the door and stepped out into the shin high snow. The snow seemed to respond to his presence and fell all the more heavily once he was out of the car. Ryan gave a nervous giggle and what must have looked like a ridiculous smirk considering the circumstances. But he was getting more nervous by the second and wondered just what in the hell he was doing.

He slung the sack over his shoulder and moved forward, his machete held at the ready while he shivered uncontrollably in the harsh weather conditions. First he made his way to the truck and to his utter surprise and disgust found that not all the soldiers were dead. Heads opened their eyes at his approach and stained teeth clashed together seemingly trying to bite him even though they couldn't reach him. Then dismembered corpses with much of their innards tore out started crawling towards him. Ryan remembered an early news broadcast several months ago that said the only way to truly kill the walking corpses was to destroy the brain. As the hopelessly tragic creatures shuffled their way towards him he readied his machete and drew his pistol. Using it here would be unlikely to attract any more undead than he could already see and besides which he felt better for having it in his hand.

As the first Shambler approached he raised his machete and brought it down on the creature's skull splitting it in two. He went from corpse to corpse repeating the same thing and soon nothing else moved, he hadn't yet had need to fire a shot. What surprised him was the lack of blood. They must have bled out months ago when this tragedy happened. Having worked his way through what remained of the soldiers and any corpse crawlers nearby he walked over to the truck. The first thing that caught his attention was an army jacket in the front seat of the vehicle.

He made certain nothing was lurking inside the truck and reached in and pulled the jacket out. He immediately checked it for bloodstains or bullet holes but it seemed like it had escaped intact. He quickly pulled the jacket on and immediately appreciated the warmth it offered from the elements. It was a little big for him but it would do for now. Next he went around picking up the weapons and ammunition that was scattered around the ground. By the time he was done he had eighteen assault rifles and a hundred and eighty three full assault rifle magazines. He made several journeys to the van and placed them in the back, maybe they would come in useful later on. He also found two sniper rifles and twenty two magazines for them.

He thought about checking out the wrecked cars but decided against it. They were more densely packed and could easily hide a walking corpse. He climbed into the van and started the engine. Before he moved the van off the road to avoid the wrecks, he noticed several of the frozen corpses beginning to stand. They were unsteady on their feet and looked quite weak and feeble. But it was their bites and nails that could cause the damage. He locked the doors and looked out to both sides and behind, the way was clear.

The corpses began making their way toward the van their frozen and distorted features plain for Ryan to see. He actually felt pity for them. They had been human once and deserved better than this. They should be in their graves so they could be mourned. Although if the virus continued on its current path of destruction there wouldn't be anyone left to mourn the dead. He ignored the walking corpses, taking the van off road and simply driving around them. Within minutes he had cleared the site of the pileup.

Over the next four miles there were many similar scenes and corpses walking along and beside the highway. Ryan didn't stop for anything. There were undoubtedly valuable supplies, but the risk was too great. Ten minutes later he was on the outskirts of Springdale. He pulled up outside a roadside gas station. Hopefully they had fuel he could acquire, and the store was bound to have some supplies he could scavenge. He scanned the area looking all around. There was no sign of anyone moving about. The outside of the gas station was clear of vehicles. It was a relief, where there were vehicles there were likely people, or what used to be people. He left the crossbow in the van and stepped out, locking the door behind him. He again drew his machete and pulled out his 9MM.

He walked towards the gas station noting every bit of cover around it and being sure to check for walking corpses. He took out a flashlight and held it in the hand with his gun. It was daylight and visible inside but there may be dark places within the place that would be suicide to enter without a light. He tried the front door and found it open. He walked through the door and looked around the store. It didn't look like it had been looted yet, which he was very grateful for. As much as he just wanted to fill his sack and be away from here he needed to know if there was anyone alive in this place, as unlikely as it seemed. Before he had chance to think about anything else he heard a shuffling coming from the back room. He could have sworn he heard someone talking, but it could have just as easily been something moaning.

He readied himself and moved forward, on the count of three he pulled the door back just as something jumped out at him.

Chapter 2: The Garage Mechanics

Ryan jumped back just in time as the axe blade missed his head by no more than six inches. He pointed his gun and readied to fire at the bastard who had swung the axe. When he saw her face he hesitated for just a moment, it was not the face of a dead person, and he doubted the dead could swing an axe so accurately if at all. She looked up shocked and her mouth opened wide in disbelief at seeing a normal living person. The oil and grease that covered the young woman's face masked a pretty girl of about twenty years of age. Her shoulder length blonde hair was a complete mess and had seen better days. He looked at her for a moment longer and lowered the pistol and machete. Hopefully she wouldn't take his head off with another swing of the axe.

"I'm sorry. I thought you were one of them. I was looking for some things in the back storeroom when I heard the front door open. I thought one of them had wondered in here." She explained hesitantly, but kept a tight grip on the axe that she held ready for another strike should the situation turn sour.

"You're alive. I didn't expect to find anyone still breathing outside of the safe areas that have been sending out calls on the radio. What are you doing out here alone?" Ryan questioned.

"You heard them too? I didn't know if they would be safe so I've been hiding out here at the family business for over three months."

"The gas station?"

"And the Auto Repair garage next to it. It's all my fathers place, or was. I guess it's mine now for all that's worth."

"Then you are alone out here?"

"Don't get any ideas. I can take care of myself. And no I'm not alone. There are six of us. My Uncle Joshua, his daughter Amy, my friends Ashley and Chloe, and Gabriella an old friend of my mother's before she died of the fever. That's all that's left of my family and friends and theirs, everyone else died. We've barricaded ourselves in the best we could, with father's old hunting rifles and shotguns. We've been living off what we had stored in the storeroom but we're getting a bit low on supplies now. I was just about to start emptying the shop of all the food and drink, to take upstairs. I would have done it sooner but never really seemed to get around to it. I suppose I should have been more careful. I thought I'd locked that door into the store."

"You know you can't stay out here for ever, just the six of you. Sooner or later those things will find you and you won't have a chance. The road here was swarming with them, the dead from all the pileups on the highway. I was thinking of trying out that new prison they've just built. There's supposed to be a small community living there. It sounds like they're well supplied and managing to live as normal as can be expected considering what's happened with the virus and the walking corpses."

"I've heard that too, on the radio. Some of us want to try it. But I'm more cautious, there's no knowing who they are."

"I thought the same thing but what else can we do. I bet you're out of electricity and either have little or no fuel for the generator, if you even have one."

"We do. We've got enough for about another six months. But there is only enough food for about another month or two at most. What about you, what's your story?"

"I was vacationing up here during the summer. Got trapped here when the military closed us all in and been in my cabin ever since. You're the first person I've seen in three months."

"Well it's nice to meet you I suppose, considering the circumstances. I'm Kate Macarthur."

"Same here, pleasure to meet you, Kate. Ryan, Ryan Rodriguez."

Before either of them had chance to turn around, the door swung open and four shotguns were quickly aimed at Ryan's back.

"A friend of yours, Kate? Don't make any sudden moves or you're head will be decorating the wall." Gabriella said. She was the eldest of the group who had just entered the store, and the one that did all the talking as the group's leader.

"It's alright, Gabby, he seems ok. But now you're all here you can help get all this food upstairs, except the stuff in the freezers and refrigerators. What about you, Ryan, what's your plan for the day? We can't let you have anything, we need it ourselves. I guess that's what you were doing here, right?"

"I'll drive further into town and see what I can find. What I can offer you, is five assault rifles and fifty assault rifle magazines for five barrels of fuel for my generator back at the cabin."

"Assault rifles, where the hell did you get those from?" Gabby asked.

"From a platoon of dead army guys along the road. No doubt there's more to be found if what I've seen is any indication of the rest of the State."

"We could really use those rifles, Gabby. And fuel is the one thing we can probably spare. I say we let him have the fuel, those rifles will make a hell of a difference if we need to defend this place."

"Alright, you've got yourself a deal."

"I don't suppose you could throw in a few items of warm winter clothing could you. I've been freezing my ass off for the last few months." Ryan questioned.

"Sure, you can have my father's old stuff. He won't be needing it anymore." Kate replied.

"While I think about it, I found some radio's on those dead soldiers. I've got a box full of them in the van. I could leave a couple here so you can stay in contact, just in case you need help with anything. And I'll leave them with other survivors if I find any. That way we can all keep in touch."

"Sure why not, it can't do any harm to keep in contact with what's left of the outside world." Kate replied with a brief hint at a smile.

After the trade had been made and the barrels loaded into the back of the van they invited Ryan to dinner before he travelled back home. The house was as expected something of a fortress. The windows were completely covered both inside and out by nailed planks of wood. There were thick blankets nailed up on the inside so that not even a little light showed through. The doors were all nailed shut and heavy objects such as cabinets, bookcases and assorted junk piled high to make it near impossible to force the doors open. At various points throughout the house Ryan learned that Kate was quite handy with a welding torch and had put metal caging up to block off doorways and corridors and fastened with sturdy padlocks. The walls were literally covered in hunting rifles and shotguns and they had a store of several thousand rounds of ammunition.

The Auto Repair Garage was a massive construction that housed an 18 wheeler truck, a fuel tanker and a bus. There was also a humvee, a pickup truck, a tow truck and trailer, two off-road rough terrain bikes in the back of the pickup and a Snow Plough. All had been brought in for repairs just as the outbreak struck and then abandoned by their owners. Kate and the others had been working on them ever since with the intention of turning them into more secure vehicles with plating to give them a more armoured and sturdy look. And metal caging over the windows to make it harder for anything to break into them. They had spare tyres, barrels of fuel plus what was in the tanker, tools for almost any mechanical job that might need doing and enough space in the vehicles to transport everything they would need if they had to move quickly.

Ryan was impressed to say the least. They clearly knew what they were doing. But perhaps lacked a little knowledge of what they could really expect out there in the big wide world. But was he really any different. So far he hadn't had to face anything other than crawling dismembered corpses. A zombie horde of hundreds or thousands would be another matter entirely.

After the best meal he had eaten for months he said his goodbyes and promised to keep in touch at the same time everyday. They gave him several chargers and batteries for the radios and wished him a safe journey back to the cabin.

On the journey back, Ryan couldn't help but smile as a big grin passed across his face. The fuel would last him perhaps another two months. They had given him a pile of clothes that had belonged to Kate's father. Apparently a big man by the looks of the clothing but he couldn't afford to be too picky.

The going was slow along the road. The snow was relentless and had piled up several more inches since that morning. He probably had a few hours of daylight to get back home and hopefully safe inside the cabin. The first thing he intended to do was black out the windows. He had already boarded them, but hadn't thought about light seeping through.

He arrived at the cabin an hour later after some tricky off-road driving. He had driven past hundreds of individual zombies as they shambled about aimlessly not knowing which way to go. He parked the van in the garage and unloaded the fuel barrels.

Everything was just as he had left it. Caesar was glad to see him as always and waited expectantly for his next meal. Ryan placed the clothes in the bottom of the wardrobe and put the weapons back in their place. The remaining weapons he had scavenged he brought inside with the intention of cleaning them up to be used for barter. Although he put two assault rifles and both sniper rifles to one side to keep for himself along with all the ammunition for the sniper rifles and fifty magazines for the assault rifles, the rest he would use for trade.

After blacking out the windows with some spare bed sheets he put a pizza in the microwave and opened a bottle of beer. He sat down and took hold of one of the rifles and began to meticulously strip it down and clean it. He had a long night ahead of him.

2078, December 15th , Alaska

Jack dug his shovel deep into the ground. Mary Morgan had been his only surviving relative until she eventually succumbed to old age. Ninety eight was one hell of an accomplishment in today's apocalyptic world. Jack's great, great grandmother had been a fighter until her dying breath. She had survived seven pandemics of varying nature. All designed to wipe the Earth clean of humans by equally deadly methods. In the end it was simple old age that took her. She was desperate to last until her hundredth birthday but the bitter cold was too much for the old girl.

Some of the Family Gravestones

John Henry Morgan – Born 1978 – Died 2052 at Age 74

Mary Jane Foster/Morgan - Born 1980 – Died 2078 at Age 98

Zach Morgan – Born 1997 – Died 2047 at age 50

Ellie May Turner/Morgan – Born 2000 – Died 2055 at age 55

Oscar Morgan – Born 2020 – Died 2046 at age 26

Sarah Jane Cutler/Morgan – Born 2021 – Died 2046 at age 25

William Morgan – Born 2038 – Died 2065 at age 27

Jeanie Rose Smith/Morgan – Born 2017 – Died 2043 at age 26

Jack Morgan – Born 2055 – Still Living age 23

Lilly Jade Moore – Morgan Born 2055 – Walked into the winter wastes in 2075 after their 1 year old son James had died. He believes she is dead and has never seen her since then.

Jack looked around the old family bunker and outpost. It had served his family well. But with each passing year came deadlier viruses and ever more dangerous people not to mention the feral humans and mutated wildlife. He had lost count of the number of times the outpost was attacked. Gradually his family, friends, acquaintances and those others that Mary and John Morgan had welcomed into their home were taken one by one until only the two of them remained.

He had counted the graves inside the grounds of the outpost earlier that day. 243 lost souls, of those 129 had been lost to the pandemics, 110 fell in combat and the other four died of old age. This was grave 244. Mary Jane Foster-Morgan born December 16th 1980 – Died December 15th 2078.

He lowered her body into the grave and began filling it in before the snow started again. After he was finished he stopped to say a silent prayer for her. There were no tears of farewell. He had done this too many times over the years. Mary's dog's Benny and Betty whimpered at the side of the grave. Both were old themselves, two twelve year old German Shepherd dogs. He thought of what he could do with them. Both probably only had another winter left in them. But it had been Mary's dying request. She wanted him to take care of the dogs before he left. Mary had known he intended to leave. What was once a lively and friendly place to call home. Albeit one built like a fortress. Was now just a lifeless graveyard.

There were supplies in the outpost for another two to three years. But Jack had decided there was no reason to stay. He clung on to the hope that Lilly Jade his wife would return. But she must be dead by now. Out there with the cannibals, the ferals, with the mutants, the crazies and the infected. How could she possibly survive that. There had been over two hundred and fifty in the outpost and he was the last of them.

Jack finished at the graveside and left the dogs to whine over Mary. He checked the gates were triple padlocked and barred with a large thick plank of wood between the two steel guards on either side of the gates.

He wondered what to do with the horses when he left. There were still over fifty horses in the heated stables. He spent a lot of time caring for them. Feeding cleaning, exercising, watering and everything else that went with it. The local militia had expressed an interest in buying fifty of the fifty four he had remaining. They were reliable men and women and generally kept the peace when it looked like the area was going to be overrun with scum. It had been mentioned by the local militia garrison commander Major Robert Stilton that the outpost would make a good second base for his growing militia.

Jack had even thought of joining the militia and had been promised a fast track promotion if the outpost were sold to the Major. It was a good idea he thought to himself. Not that money was worth crap these days since the Great Fall of 2025. But he would be given all the equipment he needed to take him into the States down south of Alaska.

The locals had done well to establish law and order after everything went to hell. They had formed the militia from the remnants of all the regional police forces and disbanded or deserted military. As well as local gangs who weren't ready to see their territory taken over by the filth that was swarming all over the land now the regular authorities had broken down. It had been a rough thirty plus years and only in the last five years or so had things begun to calm down with order restored.

It had been due to the ever worsening weather that the hordes had been stopped and turned back or destroyed. Whatever was happening with the climate it did not bode well for anyone out in the open or with relatively little shelter. The snow was seemingly all year round now until you reached as far south as the Independent Northern Californian Free State Border. After which the temperature began to rise sharply upwards along with floods, earthquakes, wildfires and tornadoes, even the occasional Tsunami.

As he closed the stables that evening. Zeus his only remaining pup from Mary's dogs' 7th litter. Came up beside him and nuzzled his hand. Always the biggest and strongest of all the dogs that were once stationed at the outpost. Zeus was a mean tempered wild beast to all but family and the other dogs. He wore his battle scars with pride. Attacks from mutants, infected, bears, wolves, and all manner of other things had not killed off the mutant guard dog.

The mansion was barely used these days and everything inside was covered in white dust sheets. Standing tall and proud the grand house stood five floors high and stretched 300 meters from east to west and 200 meters from north to south. It had once housed the entire population of the outpost until the underground bunker was built and the house abandoned. Now it was locked down with state of the art security, including a thick steel shell that encased the whole house and was controllable by a remote that Jack carried with him. The house would not be sold to the militia. It had been in the family for a hundred years or more and was worth a small fortune. If he ever returned he would settle back in the house if circumstances permitted it.

The bunker could house and support two hundred and fifty militia quite comfortably. He already knew the officer who would take charge. Captain Salvatore Giovanni age 53. A hard as nails old mercenary who loved drinking, fighting, whoring and animals. He had tried to run his own ranch until his entire household was slaughtered by a tribal gang of mutants. He was the only one to survive and even then after a year and a half in intensive care. He had vowed since then to kill any worthless scum that entered the local region. He had kept to his word and now commanded three hundred roving militia but the outpost was what the captain desired. They could have taken it by force long ago. But that was the kind of behavior that he hated and had vowed to fight.

Jack checked the underground garage and the hundred or more vehicles that were parked there. They mostly went unused since the Great Fall. It was fully kitted out with garage workshop, any tool imaginable and enough spare parts to keep them all running.

He closed and locked the blast doors leading down to the garage. Such a massive outpost and responsibility for one person. He entered the underground bunker and pressed the series of buttons that sent the double blast doors into place.

Zeus, Benny and Betty followed behind him. Last nights leftovers were covered up in the refrigerator. He took out the plate and placed it in the microwave oven. Set it to ten minutes and then grabbed some moonshine. He filled the dogs bowls with food and water. When the food was ready he took the plate and his jug of moonshine over to the settee and sat down. He turned on the news channel and listened.

"News Network #77. Cheryl Hardy reporting from the frozen American city of Seattle. The Seattle Underground Ark City is home to the remnants of this once magnificent city. 187,569 residents call The Ark their home. Connected by underground rail to all the major towns and cities that were able to complete their Arks they have become the bastions of civilization in a post apocalyptic world. While the surface cities still exist. They are not the places they once were before The Great Fall. The cities are now plagued by constant snow and ice and freezing temperatures. All manner of dangerous feral humans and creatures now roam the streets and lair in those buildings that remain standing. The sewers and metro train stations are pockets of borderline civilization but also home to numerous foul creatures and gangs. Those living in the metro's have built settlements deep below ground of several thousand to upwards of fifty thousand people in some places. Scattered units of remnant military forces provide dystopian like rules for those settlements and rule with an iron fist and weapons full of bullets. In all the settlements number about a further three hundred and fifty thousand people.

But they are outnumbered greatly by the horrors that lurk in the shadows. Some reckon millions of infected wander the surface city and the local region. This picture is repeated throughout the Free States of America. While some cities further south are blazing in the red hot temperatures of almost year long summers. They have turned their cities into gigantic fortresses ruled by various factions vying for power. Life is strictly regimented in these places with armed gangs, militias, corporations or military's keeping order with an authoritarian presence that some welcome while others tolerate and some fight against.

An example of a city would be Haven's Hope on the Mexico border. Population 12,000,000+. Life here is strict. Streets are walled off by hundred foot high walls and military checkpoints and barracks. The cities outer walls encase the entire city and stand two hundred feet high. Machine gun nests. Watch towers with snipers. Barbed wire no go areas. Dog and horse patrols. Military convoy patrols. Tanks and APC's.

The scum have been driven from the city by determined efforts over the last thirty or more years. But people have paid a price with their freedom. Outside the city walls is certain death. Even the military don't patrol outside the walls any more and very rarely does anyone leave. Exile has become commonplace for even the most minor of crimes. A death sentence for anyone who suffers that fate.

December 2278, Los Angeles

Cryo Ark Under-City Facility #2077-001/A

Californian Government Controlled Cryogenic Experimental Facility #2077

Number of Functional Cryo-Sleep Pods:-15,000,000 Total

Resident Cryogenically Frozen Occupants:- 5,725,850 Male/5,728,550 Female Alive – Deaths Since Entering Cryo-Sleep – (110,204)

Age Range of Cryo-Sleep Pod Occupants:- 18-60

Number of Years in Cryo-Sleep:- 212 Years to Present Day

Number of Employed Operational Facility Personnel:-

1 President

1 Vice President

1 Senate Cryo Ark Head of Overseers

5 Elected Cryo Ark Facility Overseers

10 Ruling Governors

100 Controlling Council/Senate Represetatives

15 Field Marshalls

15 Military Joint Chiefs of Staff

15 Generals

1,000+ Facility Council Personnel

2,000+ Military Officers/NCO Personnel

1,000+ Heads/Deputies of Departments

1,000+ Religious Studies Personnel

1,000+ Biological Personnel

1,000+ Science Personnel

1,000+ Technical Personnel

1,000+ Maintenance Personnel

1,000+ Security Personnel

1,000+ Educational Personnel

50,000+ Military Personnel

5,000+ Supervisory Personnel

5,000+ Water/Waste Treatment Personnel

1,000+ Pilots/Drivers/Ship Crewmen

2,000+ Construction Personnel

15,000+ Cryo-Sleep Pod Monitoring/Engineering Personnel

13,000+ Ark Facility Wasteland Rangers

2,000+ Robotics Tech Personnel

3,000+ Hydroponics Farming Personnel

2,000+ Information Media Technology Personnel

5,000+ Medical Personnel

45,000+ Military Support Personnel/Trainee Recruits

590,000 Wasteland Frontier Pioneer Settlers Tasked and Trained to Resettle the Wasteland

50,000+ Facility Support Personnel

50,000+ Production Personnel

5,000,000+ Animals Dependant on the Ark Facility

5,000,000+ Lab Animals for Experimentation

50,000+ Animal Workers – Scientists/Habitat Keepers/Feeding and Animal Welfare Personnel

50,000+ Wasteland Creatures Captured and Studied Since the Facility Went Operational

50,000+ Wastelanders Quarantined, Captured and Studied Since the Facility Went Operational

500,000+ Family Dependants and other Residents –

16,000+ Operational Robots of Various Kinds

525,000 Residents Undergoing Training for One of the Listed Professions

255,500+ Residents Incarcerated in Correctional Facility

The Grand Purging of Ark City #2077 -001/A

"Overseer for Security of Correctional Facilities Roberto Chavez speaking over the 'Caifornian Undercity Metropolis Cryo Ark Facility Information Network' (C.U.C.M.A.F.I.N.) to all residents of the Ark City."

"Tomorrow the planned purging of the prison population takes place. 235,000+ inmates from our correctional facilities will be the first people from the Cryo Ark to enter the wasteland for the first time in over 200 years. What they will find we already know is a nuclear blasted, radiation filled, mutant infested wasteland.

"But these people are a drain on our resources and regardless of their crimes they will be required to undertake an experimental journey into those wastes to determine the liklihood our frontiersmen and women can survive the harshest of environments.

"The Ark's Wasteland Rangers will be responsible for equiping these inmates for their long and arduous journey. The inmates will recieve enviromental suits, clothes, tools, backpacks, supplies, medication, food, water, maps, shelter, weapons and ammunition. Every man and woman of them shall recieve the same amount of equipment.

"They will leave the Ark City in groups of one hundred inmates with an hour between that group and the next until all prisoners have left the city.I realise some of you are not happy with the ruling council, governors and overseers' for making this judgement but the number of crimes as of late has increased to the point where the prison places are no longer available for more prisoners.

"Those inmates with family members may take them with them on their journey if the family member is over the age of twenty two and they are in agreement. Prisoners age 18-22 will be the exception and will leave with the rest of the prison population. May you find sanctuary in the wastes and someplace more to your liking. Prisoners under the age of 18 will remain in the city until they are either released or the next purge takes place and they are over 18."

2307 May 7th Day 1 of Leaving the Ark

Group 17 of the Grand Purging Leaves the Cryo Ark

"Embedded within each of the thirty five groups of one hundred inmates are a small group of five Wasteland Rangers. Their goal is to steer the inmates in the right direction. This means setting up working settlements that are of use to the Cryo Ark. While little is expected from these criminals they may surprise us all and turn out to be productive and resourceful members of the Ark who can one day be welcomed back."

Captain James McGregor of the embedded Wasteland Rangers joined the waiting line of prisoners who were part of Group 17. A group 107 inmates, among them were five Rangers who's identity had not been revealed to the other prisoners. The first 16 Groups were well on their way out into the unkown

The Quartermaster read from the list and ordered his store workers to fetch 107 pre sorted bundles of kit for the men and women waiting in line.

A Cryo Ark environmental suit included the partially armoured light combat chest, arms, legs, hands, feet and helmet. All were designed to fit together and worn over a full body radiation suit with two tanks of self replenishing oxygen that would ensure total coverage from the harsh environemtal wasteland that waited for them.

The chest piece was fitted with a self injecting fast healing super stim pack that held twenty doses before needing to be replenished. Alongside the stim pack injector was the rad-x and radaway injector with ten doses of each medication. The injector has a built in rad detector that determines when a dose should be administered. These injectors are located in a compartment on the inside of the chest armour piece in a strong metal casing thatcan be accessed via a keycard which is carried by the suit wearer.

The Helmet has built in low-light, infra-red, rangefinder and enhanced vision. Also located in the helmet is a med-x injector for combat situations. The injector holds twenty doses of med-x before it needs refilling. The helmet also acts as a air and radiation filter and gas mask.

Each inmate will be issued a standard assault rifle with combat scope and beyonet. The ammunition will be given to the inmates when out of sight of the entrance to the Cryo Ark. Also issued will be a combat automatic shotgun, Sniper Rifle with an assortment of scopes and a combat knife and machete for clearing away overgrown vegetation. The assault rifle is fitted with an under barrel grenade launcher and comes with 20 grenades.

For nourishment the inmates are provided with 200 MRE's, generally powder that turns into food with added boiling purified water. Two eight pint water containers with built in water purifier. A pack of 1000 water purification tablets. Fifty high energy chocolate bars. One bottle of whiskey.

A one man waterproof tent with anti-rad coverings. A thermal sleeping bag and blow up pillow and ground covering. Cooking utensils, maps of California and adjacent states as well as Mexico. Hand held pip boys for the many tasks they are capable of, and updated with local information. Two extra changes of clothes suitable for the environment as well as one that will be worn when leaving. Various tools for camping, building and tinkering.

Extra medical support kit with spare doses of all needed medications. A years supply worth of personal medication tailored to that specific individual inmate. A sturdy backpack with armoured frame capable of carrying 120 pounds worth of gear, waterproof and capable of stopping knifes and similar slashing, piercing weapons due to the strong material used.

1 Exploding Collar to be worn at all times. Any attempt to remove it will result in the charge beind detonated. To be explained clearly to all inmates during their leaving orientation seminar. These collars can track the location of every inmate sent out into the wastes and can be triggered from the safety of the Cryo Ark.

Captain McGregor was surprisingly pleased with the upbeat mood of the group. They had gone clear of the miles of underground access tunnels rising up gradually until they led into the outskirts of Old Los Angeles. It was now very much a ruined city nuked back to the stone age.

For the first time in his life he wasn't several miles beneath the surface of the Earth. It was unusual to look up and see the sky. Although it was not the clear blue skies in the books he had read. It was a dirty hue of greens, yellows, greys and browns. This was undoubedly from all the dirt and dust thrown into the atmosphere during the War of 2077. The occasional defening rumble of thunder and forked flash of lighting burst from the soup like clouds. The acid rain dribbled threatening a downpour that didn't come.