The Final Days of the Last Human Civilization

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It started small, as most things do, so insignificant at first that for the majority of the remaining population to pinpoint exactly where the outbreak began and the subsequent fall was impossible. Among the survivors there were many popular theories; some predictable and some quite absurd to hear but what was genuinely considered common knowledge is that no one who knows the truth was alive to tell it. Virtually no one knew what was going on as it was happening. The infection which made the dead rise showed no outward signs, no symptoms, and it didn’t even kill. It was impossible to tell a carrier from a healthy person and it’s safe to guess that now there isn’t a single uninfected person left on the planet. How many had caught and transmitted the disease or whatever it was before the first corpse even rose? Had it already been too late?

In Foxhill Downs, the local news first reported that a man a few towns over had lost his mind when what appeared to be his wife tried to kill him. So driven by rage and lunacy and possibly aided my drugs, he had ripped out her throat and begun to eat her. At least that was what appeared on the prime time thrill news just before the evening’s lineup of sitcoms aired. It would be days before another odd and vaguely cannibalistic tale made headlines but by the next day after that, the airwaves were flooded with reports of insanity, domestic violence, and every other such thing imaginable. There was no quarantine, too many towns and cities were having the same problem, but the national guard, reserves and armed forces were activated and meant to try and establish some kind of order among the chaos as everything else seems to disintegrate. They too would fail.