The Nation Chronicles

Hit the ground, Candace yelled as the kid opened fire with the deer rifle he had in his hands. Everyone hit the dirt except Lydia whose face registered astonishment as she turned slowly to the river to face the kid. Candace yelled again as she raised herself to both cut and bruised elbows and began to fire back across the river. The kid managed three shots before Candace hit him. He slowly toppled over and splashed into the river. Lydia stood: Her mouth wide open, staring across the river to where the kid had been. Candace raised her eyes to where Lydia stood and they caught on the ragged, gaping hole blown through the back of her t-shirt. She continued to stand: Seeming to still be looking out over the river; her mouth working. Lydia, Candace whispered. Lydia slowly turned, her mouth still working but silent. A small neat hole wept blood down the front of her shirt. Her chest hitched and her eyes fluttered. Tom lunged to his feet, his eyes dazed and ran to her, catching her as she slumped forward. Her eyes flickered once more as he eased her to the ground. A small tight smile came to her mouth. Killed me, she wheezed. Her eyes closed and her chest stopped its struggle for breath. It is the end of polite society... What is left is instinct, might, will... A devastating virus is spreading, changing those it touches, in death and in some sort of false life again. The cities have fallen to destruction, gangs, and the dead. There are few places for those who have survived to gather to rebuild themselves, and as the days pass fewer still left to join them, while the dead grow in numbers daily...